The Zimbabwean was also watching the distant rioters.
"You're too late," he said cheerfully. "You missed the best of it. They're dispersing now."
"I was in the best of it." Alan joined him and saw that a much smaller crowd continued to demonstrate, but that most of the people were moving slowly back towards the elevator-cone.
"Did you see any arrests?" Junnar asked.
"No. Did you?"
"The police didn't seem too keen. I think they took a couple in-probably examples."
"What does all this mean, Junnar? What's happening to the world?"
"I’m not with you?" Junnar stared at Alan in curiosity.
"Nobody is, I guess. I’m sure that these riots are not just the result of the Fireclown's speeches in his cavern. I'm sure they've been brewing for ages. Why are the people so frustrated they have to break out like this suddenly? What do they want? What do they lack? You may know as well as I do that mass demonstrations in the past often had nothing to do with the placards they waved and the cant they chanted-it was some universal need crying out for satisfaction, something that has always been in man, however happy and comfortable his world is. What is it this time?"
"I think I know what you mean." Junnar offered Alan a marijuana but he refused.
"That down there-the Fire-clown-the impatience to expand to the new Earth-type planets-the bitter arguments in the Solar House-individual frustration-the 'time for a change' leaders in the news-sheets and laservid programs. All threatening to topple society from its carefully maintained equilibrium. You mean it's some kind of-Junnar groped for a word- "force that's entered the race, that we should be doing something, changing our direction in some way?"
"I think that's roughly what I mean. I'm finding it hard to put it into words myself."
"Well, this is perhaps what the Fireclown means when he says we're turning our backs on the natural life. With all our material comfort, perhaps we should look inward at ourselves instead of looking outward at the new colony planets. Well, what do we do about it, Mr. Powys?"
"I wish I knew."
"So do I." Junnar exhaled the sweet smoke and leaned back against the rail.
"You seem to understand what the Fireclown's getting at. You must believe that he's innocent of causing these riots. Can't you tell my grandfather that?"
Junnar’s manner changed. "I didn't say the Fireclown was innocent, Mr. Powys. I agree with your grandfather. He's a menace!" He spoke fiercely, almost as fiercely as Simon Powys had done earlier.
Alan sighed. "Oh, all right. Goodnight, Junnar."
" 'Night, Mr. Powys."
As he climbed into an automatic car and set the control, he caught a final glimpse of the Negro's sad face staring up at the moon like a dog about to bay.
To Alan, the world seemed suddenly sick. All the people in it seemed equally sick. And it was bad enough today. What would it be like tomorrow? he wondered.
Next morning he breakfasted late, waiting for Carson to call him if he was wanted at the office'. Both laservid and news-sheet were full of last night's rioting. Not only had the City Council building been attacked but others, taking advantage of the demonstration, had indulged in sheer hooliganism, smashing shop-fronts in the consumer corridors, breaking light globes, and so on. Damage was considerable; arrests had been made, but the Press didn't seem to complain.
Instead, they had a better angle to spread:
C.A. MAN GRAPPLES PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE! Alan Powys attacks Fireclown supporters!
A picture showed him wrenching Helen's banner from her grasp. In the story he was described as an angry spokesman for the establishment and Helen as the heroine of the hour, going among the people to stand or fall with them. Maybe she had been playing her game better than he had at first thought, he decided.
On the laservid a commentator's voice was heard over the noise of the riot:
"Last night, beautiful would-be President, Miss Helen Curtis, led a peaceful party of demonstrators to the City Council building on Top. They were there to protest against the abuse of Council power which, as everyone knows now, was to take the form of a secret closing of ten of the lowest levels of the City of Switzerland. Miss Curtis and her supporters saw this as a deliberate move to stop free speech, an attempt to silence the very popular figure known as the Fireclown, whose harmless talks have given many people so much comfort and pleasure.
"The peaceful demonstration was savagely broken up by the large bodies of policemen who forced themselves through the crowd and began making random arrests almost before the people could lodge their protest.
"It is not surprising that some of the less controlled elements among the demonstrators resisted arrest."
Shot of demonstrator kicking a policeman in the behind.
"Reliable witnesses attest to police brutality towards both men and women.
"In the van of the police bully-boys came Alan Powys, grandson of Miss Curtis's rival in the forthcoming Presidential elections-and Assistant Director of City Administration, who had already begun work on closing off the lower levels."
Shot of Alan grappling with Helen.
"But even Mr. Powys couldn't silence the demands of the crowd!"
Shot of him walking away. He hadn't realized laservids were tracking him the whole time.
"And he went back to report his failure to his grandfather, Simon Powys."
Shot of him entering the apartment building.
The cameras panned back to the riot, and the commentary continued in the same vein. He was horrified by the lies-and helpless against them. What could he do?
Deny them? Against an already prejudiced public opinion?
"Obviously someone Up There," the commentator was saying, "doesn't like the Fireclown. Perhaps because he's brought a bit of life back into our drab existence.
"This program decries the totalitarian methods of the City Council and tells these hidden men that it will oppose all their moves to encroach further upon our liberties!"
Fade-out and then fresh shots of a surly-looking man talking to a laservid reporter.
Reporter: "This is Mr. Lajos, who narrowly escaped wrongful arrest in yesterday's demonstration. Mr. Lajos, tell the viewers what happened to you."
Lajos: "I was brutally attacked by two policemen."
Lajos stood staring blankly into the camera and had to be prodded by the reporter.
Reporter: "Did you sustain injuries, Mr. Lajos?"
Lajos: "I sustained minor injuries, and if I had not been saved in time I would have sustained major injuries about my head and body."
Lajos's head seemed singularly free from any obvious injuries.
Reporter: "Did the police give you any reason for their attack?"
Lajos: "No. I was peacefully demonstrating when I was suddenly set upon. I was forced to defend myself…"
Reporter: "Of course, of course. Thank you, Mr. Lajos."
Back in the studio, a smiling reporter bent towards the camera.
"It's victory for Miss. Curds and her supporters, folks. The Fireclown won't be bothered by the Council-not so long as we keep vigilant, anyway-for the Council told the people a few minutes ago that…"
The picture faded and Carson's face appeared in its place. That was the one irritation of combining communication and entertainment in the single laservid set.
"Sorry if I butted in, Alan. Have you heard the news?"
"Something about me-or about the Council?"
"The Council-they've backed down. They've decided not to close off the levels, after all. Maybe now we can get on with some work. Will you come to the office as soon as you can?"