Two hundred years "of peace had taught Helen Curtis nothing about peaceful demonstration.
It was such a small issue, Alan told himself bewilderedly, such a small issue that could have been settled by a hundred angry letters instead of a mob of thousands.
The crowd was attempting to press past the police barrier.
Finally the barrier broke and fights between the police and the demonstrators broke out. Several times Alan saw a policeman lose his temper and strike a demonstrator.
He was disgusted and perturbed, but there was nothing he could do.
Wearily, he walked away from the scene. For the time being all emotion had been driven from him.
CHAPTER FIVE
MISERABLY, unsure of his direction, Alan let his feet carry him aimlessly.
He was sure that the riot marked some important change in the course of Earth's history, but knew with equal certainty that it would be twenty years before he could look back and judge why it had happened.
Helen, I love you, he thought, Helen I love you. But it was no good. They were completely separated now. He had picked an old scab. He should have left it well alone.
He looked up and found that he was approaching the building which housed his grandfather's apartment. He realized at the same time that he needed someone to talk to. There had been no one since he and Helen had parted. The stern old man would probably refuse to listen and would almost certainly refuse to give him any advice or help, but there was nothing else for it.
He did not have a sonarkey for the matterlift, so he climbed the stairs very slowly and went to the main door of the big apartment.
A servant answered and showed him in. Simon Powys was sitting in his lounge intently watching the laservid relaying scenes of the riots outside. He turned his great head and Alan saw that his brooding eyes held a hint of triumph.
"So the Fireclown was uninterested in power, was he?" Simon Powys smiled slightly and pointed at the set. "Then what's that, Alan?"
"A riot," Alan said hollowly. "But though it's in the name of the Fireclown he didn't encourage it."
"That seems unlikely. You were mixed up in it for a while, weren't you? I saw you on that"-he pointed again at the screen. "And Helen, too, is taking an active part."
"Very active," Alan kept his tone dry.
"You disapprove?"
"I tried to stop her."
"So you've changed your opinion of the Fireclown. You realize I was right. If I had my way, every one of those rioters would be flung into prison-and the Fireclown exiled from the planet!"
Slightly shocked by the savagery of his grandfather's last remark, Alan remained silent. Together they watched the laservid. The police seemed to be coping, though their numbers had had to be increased.
"I haven't changed my opinion, Grandfather," he said quietly. "Not really, anyway."
His grandfather also paused before replying: "I wish you knew what I knew-then you'd fight the Fireclown as strongly as I'm attempting to. The man's a criminal. Perhaps he's more than that. Perhaps this is the last night we'll be able to sit comfortably and watch the laservid."
"We both seemed to underestimate the Fireclown's popularity," Alan mused. "Are you going to continue your campaign against him?"
"Of course."
"I should have thought you would spend your time better trying to find out why the public is attracted to him?"
"The Fireclown's a menace…"
"Why?" Alan said grimly.
"Because he threatens the stability of society. We've had equilibrium for two hundred years…"
"Why does he threaten the stability of society?"
Simon Powys turned round in his chair. "Are you trying to be impertinent, Alan?"
"I'm trying to tell you that the Fireclown himself means nothing. The public is in this mood for another, a deeper, reason. I was down there in the cavern on the first level. I saw the Fireclown try to stop them from doing this but they wouldn't listen to him. Why?"
But the old man stubbornly refused to get drawn into an argument. And Alan felt a hollow sense of frustration. His urge to try to clarify his thoughts by means of conversation was unbearably strong. He tried again:
"Grandfather!"
"Yes?"
"The Fireclown pleaded with the crowd not to make this demonstration. I saw him.
But the crowd wasn't interested in what he said. They're using him, just as you and Helen are using him for your own reasons. There is something deeper going on. Can't you see that?"
Again the old man looked up at him. "Very well. The Fireclown symbolizes something-something wrong in our society, is that it? If that's the case we cannot strike at the general, we must strike at their particular, because that is what is tangible. I am striking at the Fireclown."
Alan wasn't satisfied. His grandfather's words were reasonable, yet he suspected that no thought or sensibility lay behind them. His answer had been too pat.
"I intend to do everything possible to bring the Fire-clown's activities to a halt," Simon Powys continued. "The public may be too blind to see what is happening to them, what dangerous power the Clown wields over them, but I will make them see, I will make them see!"
Alan shrugged. It seemed to him that the blind were accusing the blind.
"Politicians!" he said, suddenly angry. "What hollow individuals they are!"
Suddenly, his grandfather rose in his chair and got up, his back to the laservid, his face taut with suppressed emotion.
"By God, I brought you up as a Powys in spite of your mother's shaming me. I recognized you. I refused to take the easy way out and pay some woman to call you her own. You received the name of Powys and the benefits of that name. And this is how you reward me, by coming to my own house and insulting me! I fostered a bastard-and now that bastard reverts to type! You have never understood the responsibilities and the need to serve which mark our family. We are not power-seekers, we aren't meddlers in the affairs of others! We are dedicated to furthering civilization and humanity throughout the Solar System!
What do you understand of that, Alan whatever-your-name-is?"
"I think it most noble," Alan sneered, trying to hold back the tears of pain and anger in his eyes. His body trembled as it had done when, as an adolescent, he had been told the story of his birth. "Most noble, Grandfather, all you and the Powys clan have done for me! But you could not keep my mother alive with your high sentiments! You would not let her marry the man who fathered me! I know that much from Grandmother. Some rough spaceman, wasn't it? Could you kill him by shame, the way you killed my mother?"
"Your mother killed herself. I did everything for her…"
"And judged her for everything!"
"No…"The old man's face softened.
"I’ve always given you the benefit of every doubt, Grandfather. I've always respected you. But in this business of the Fireclown I've seen that you can be unreasoningly dogmatic, that perhaps what I've heard about you was true! Your attack on me was unfair-just as your attack on the Fireclown is unfair!"
"If you knew, Alan. If you knew just what…" The old man straightened his back.
"I apologize for what I said to you. I’m tired-busy day-not thinking properly.
I'll see you tomorrow, perhaps."
Alan nodded wordlessly and left, moved to an emotion towards his grandfather which, he decided, could only be love. Love? After what they had both said? It seemed to him that everything was turning upside down. The chaos of the mob, the chaos of his own moods, the chaos of his private life-all seemed to point towards something. Some remedy, perhaps, for his own and the world's ills?
On the roof of the building he looked around for a car which would carry him above the riot below to North Top, where he could probably use one of the small private elevators. Above the dome the sky was clear and the moon rode the sky in a casual arc. Near the edge of the roof he saw Junnar.