When the song ended, the low rumble of a drum replaced it, heartbeat steady. Tim felt tired already from the heat, and malleable, which was precisely the aim. Those around him seemed unnaturally relaxed, no doubt due to whatever concoction enhanced the punch.
Blond, fair-skinned, and slightly equine about the mouth, the couple who took the dais seemed peeled from a 1940s German propaganda poster. They gazed at each other with shared excitement, singers on the verge of a duet chorus.
"Hello, I'm Stanley John -"
"And I'm Janie."
Stanley John winked at the crowd, adjusting his head mike. "The Program was evolved by our teacher, Terrance Donald Betters, through years of research and study. You're going to get the opportunity to hear from TD soon. But first we've got to lay down some basic practices for what will be the most transforming experience of your life. Number One: Don't destabilize our techniques. The Program is precise. Success for all is reliant on no one's interrupting the process. It's not fair to everyone else if you cut in and derail their forward movement. Make sense?"
Janie was nodding for him. "Number Two: No leaving before the colloquium is finished. No matter what. The instruction and group work go all day and night. At five A.M. when you graduate, you'll be different people. But before then you must not leave. Not if your mother has a heart attack and they're reading her the last rites. Anyone who can't handle this level of commitment should go now. This is your chance." A dramatic pause during which no one moved. "Good -but this is an active commitment. So everyone who's strong enough to see this experience through, stand up."
About 90 percent of the attendees, including Tim, rose. Slowly, the others joined them, pulled by discomfort or obligation, until only three remained sitting.
One of them, a weary thirty-something, raised her hand. "I'm an only parent, and my kids are with a sitter. What if there's an emergency and I have to leave?"
"If you're an excuse maker, then you'll never learn to take control of your life. Just leave now. No reason to stay and interfere with everyone else's growth."
"But what if…?"
"Whoa, horsey." Stanley John chuckled kindly, Janie matching his Teutonic smile. Some scattered, nervous laughter from the crowd. "Ma'am, we explained the rules. We're not gonna take up everyone else's time holding your hand."
"Yeah, let's get on with it!" a plant shouted from the audience.
"If you want to be a victim of an emergency that hasn't happened yet, if you want to walk out on growth, the door's that way." Stanley John smiled benevolently at the woman, who wilted back in her chair, then pulled herself to her feet. He smiled even bigger, clapping, and the crowd slowly joined in. "Good for you."
During the applause one of the other dissenters stood, too, his face flushed. The last, an anxious-looking man in a bargain suit, scurried from the ballroom, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
Janie and Stanley John ran through the other rules in similar fashion. No questions during activities. No smoking or drinking. Eat only the food that's been provided.
"Why can't we take bathroom breaks without approval?" a frazzled woman wanted to know.
"Because TD found out it's too disruptive otherwise."
Tim began to rethink his plan for extracting Leah. Clearly he wouldn't have much mobility. He couldn't very well page her to a house phone or catch her on her way to the bathroom.
The recitation of the rules continued. Change seats now if you're sitting with anyone you know. Music will play between activities -get back to your chairs by the time it stops. You've got to participate fully.
The stifling heat, bursts of applause, and constant sitting and standing – enough to rival midnight mass – were working their magic, making the crowd at once obedient and lethargic. People with hesitations were mocked for being uncommitted, more people from the audience joining in each time.
Tim caught sight of Shanna at the far end of the horseshoe. Grinning dumbly, lips stained red with punch, she slouched in her chair, her head angled on a lenient neck. About five more people chose to leave before the lengthy introduction concluded, departing through a hail of hisses, boos, and – worse – sympathetic ohhs. The woman next to Tim, who wore a shell of egg-blond hair and no rings on her chubby fingers, appeared to be in a daze, humming to herself and nodding vehemently, her damp smock giving off an odor like curdled milk.
"All right!" Stanley John roared when the last rule had been summarily accepted. "Look around you. Everyone in this room has made the right choice. You've all chosen change and growth. From here forward, we're all in this together."
The room broke out in applause. Skate Daniels and the other likely knock-down man, a guy with a bald pate and a pronounced underbite, slid in front of the waitstaff doors and the Actspace partition gap -the only two exits. They stood like prison guards, arms crossed, expressionless. The herd was now corralled and Tim's extraction route blocked.
Jogging athletically around the horseshoe, Stanley John counted off the participants. More blue-shirts materialized to take control of the smaller groups. Tim looked for Leah to emerge, but evidently her technical skills were needed backstage.
"All right," Stanley John said breathily. "You twenty, come meet in Actspace."
Slipping on his jacket, Tim shuffled through the partition gap with the others. His neighbor introduced herself as Joanne, pumping his hand moistly. The gruff guy in the jean jacket was in their group, along with an appealing girl in a sorority sweatshirt who reminded Tim of Leah's college roommate. A gangly, thin-necked kid with comb marks gelled into his hair brought up the rear, his hands bunching the front of his Old Navy Swim Team shirt.
They formed a huddle of sorts, Stanley John in the middle, holding a plastic bin. "Let's put our watches in here. Cell phones, too."
Will's $30,000 Cartier disappeared in the heap.
They sat in a circle like kindergartners at storytime, filling out name tags that they were asked to wear at all times. Next a stack of forms magically appeared in Stanley John's hands. "These will help us keep track of your progress. Part of your job will be to look out for one another and provide feedback to me whenever you sense someone is getting Off Program."
Ben smoothed his name tag onto his denim jacket. "Big Brother's watching."
His joke was punished with disapproving silence.
"I'll do mine first." Tongue poking a point in his cheek, Stanley John bent over his form. He spoke the words slowly as he wrote. "My Program is: I experience empowerment as I follow guidance leading me to strength. My Old Programming is: I'm afraid to get angry." He looked up with a smile. "We want to stay On Program and reject our Old Programming. Get it? Now you guys go."
After everyone finished jotting, they went around the circle and read from their forms, the answers closely parroting Stanley John's examples. Blushing, Joanne read in a feeble voice, "My Program is: I experience fulfillment as I participate in my growth. My Old Programming is: I have a tough time standing up for myself."
Ray, the lanky kid, confessed that his Old Programming was that he was a bit of a control freak. Ben's was that he had a temper. Tom Altman confessed heavily that he often tried to solve his problems with money. The sorority girl, Shelly, admitted with obvious pride to using physicality to get a sense of self-worth.
"A consistent theme is an inability to express yourselves. Especially to express anger. We're going to do the Atavistic Yell to loosen up." Stanley John stood, the others following, and pointed at Joanne. "Go on. Yell at the top of your lungs."
She glanced around hesitantly. "What? I…Can't someone else go first?"
"Isn't your Program that you experience fulfillment as you participate in your growth? Are you participating in your growth by refusing to do the activity? Is she, folks?"