Mildred Brecht had some suggestions: "I suggest we can stick to old-fashioned handbills for the main policy outline. World-wide distribution to every home on Earth. Large size talkie posters for display purposes. Newspaper displays for Earth and the colonies…" She outlined several more means of publicizing the campaign.
Jordan Kalpis, a swarthy, black-haired man with prominent facial bones and pale blue eyes, interrupted Mildred Brecht.
"I think, on the whole, we're agreed already on the main points of Miss Curtis' policy as well as the means of publicizing them. We have a sound image, on the whole, and some nice, clear publicity material. The only troublesome issue is that of the Fireclown. I would like to suggest, again, that we drop it-ignore it. Already we have lost a lot of headway by the swing in public opinion from support to condemnation of the Fireclown. We can't afford to lose more."
"No," Helen said firmly. "I intend to make the Fireclown situation one of my main platform points. I am certain we shall soon find evidence of the Fireclown's innocence. If that happens, I shall be proved right. Powys proved the hysteric he seems to be, and public faith in me should be restored."
"It's too much of a gamble!"
"We've got to gamble now," Helen said. "We haven't a chance of winning otherwise."
Kalpis sighed. "Very well," and lapsed into silence.
Alan said: "When's the first public speech due to be made?"
"Tomorrow." Helen fidgeted with the papers before her. "It's at the City Hall and should be well-attended."
The huge area of City Hall was packed. Every seat was occupied, every inch of standing space crammed to capacity. On the wide platform sat Alan, Helen, Wallace and Curry, staring out at the rows of heads that gaped at them from three sides. Behind them on a great screen pictures were flashed-pictures of Helen talking to members of the public, pictures of Helen with her parents, pictures of Helen visiting hospitals, old people's homes, orphanages. A commentary accompanied the pictures, glowingly praising her virtues. As it finished, Alan got up and addressed the crowd.
"Fellow citizens of the Solar System, in just a few weeks from now you will have voted for the person you want to be President. What will you look for in your President? Intelligence, warmth of heart, capability. These are the basic essentials. But you will want more-you will want someone who is going to lead the Solar Nation towards greater freedom, greater prosperity-and a more adventurous life. Such a woman is Helen Curtis…" Unused to this sort of speech-making, Alan found he was quite enjoying himself. Enough of the Powys blood flowed in him, he decided, after all. He continued in this vein for a quarter of an hour and then presented Helen to the crowd. The applause was not as great as it might have been, but it was satisfactory.
Helen's platform manner was superb. At once alert and confident, she combined femininity with firmness, speaking calmly and with utmost assurance.
She outlined her policy. At this stage she ignored the Fireclown issue entirely, concentrating her attack on the sterile Solrefs and their Presidential candidate, Simon Powys. She ignored hecklers and spoke with wit and zest.
When she finished she was applauded and Alan Powys got up, raising his arms for silence.
"Now that you have heard Miss Curtis' precise and far-thinking policy," he said,
"are there any questions which you would like to ask her?"
Dotted around the auditorium were special stands where the questioner could go and be heard through the hall. Each stand had a large red beacon on it. Beacons began to flash everywhere. Alan selected the nearest.
"Number seven," he said, giving the number of the stand.
"I should like to ask Miss Curtis how she intends to work out the controlled price of sea-farm produce," said a woman.
Helen went back to the center of the platform.
"We shall decide to price by assessing cost of production, a fair profit margin, and so on."
"This will result in lower prices, will it?" the woman asked.
"Certainly."
The red light went out. Alan called another number.
"What steps does Miss Curtis intend to take towards the present ban on tobacco production?"
"None," Helen said firmly. "There are two reasons for keeping the ban. The first is that nicotine is harmful to health. The second is that land previously used for tobacco is now producing cereals and other food produce. Marijuana, on the other hand, is not nearly so habit-forming, has fewer smokers and can be produced with less wastage of land."
There were several more questions of the same nature, a little heckling, and then Alan called out again: "Number seven-nine."
"Miss Curtis was an ardent supporter of the Fireclown before it was discovered that he was a criminal. Now it's feared that the Fireclown intends to bombard Earth from space, or else detonate already planted bombs. What does she intend to do about this?"
Helen glanced at Alan. He smiled at her encouragingly.
"We are not certain that the Fireclown is guilty of the crimes he has been accused of," she said.
"He's guilty all right!" someone shouted. A hundred voices agreed.
"We cannot condemn him out of hand," she went on firmly. "We have no evidence of a plot to attack or destroy the planet."
"What would you do if he was guilty," shouted the original speaker-"sit back and wait?"
Helen had to shout to be heard over the rising noise of the crowd.
"I think that the Fireclown was framed by unscrupulous men who want a war scare," she insisted. "I believe we should follow other lines of investigation.
Catch the Fire-clown, by all means, and bring him to trial if necessary. But meanwhile we should be considering other possibilities as to how the bombs got on the first level!"
"My parents were killed on the eleventh level!" This was someone shouting from another speaking box. "I don't want the same thing to happen to my kids!"
"It's sure to unless we look at the situation logically," Helen retaliated.
"Fireclown-lover!" someone screamed. The phrase was taken up in other parts of the hall.
"This is madness, Alan." She looked at him as if asking for his advice. "I didn't expect quite so much hysteria."
"Keep plugging," he said. "It's all you can do. Answer them back!"
"Powys for President! Powys for President!" This from the very back of the hall.
"Powys for insanity!" she cried. "The insanity which some of you are exhibiting tonight. Blind fear of this kind will get you nowhere. I offer you sanity!"
"Madness, more likely!"
"If you listened to me like sensible adults instead of shouting and screaming, I'd tell you what I mean." Helen stood, her arms folded, waiting for the noise to die down.
Alan went and placed himself beside her.
"Give her a chance!" he roared. "Give Miss Curds a chance!"
When finally the noise had abated somewhat, Helen continued:
"I have seen the Fireclown since the holocaust. He told me that policemen tampered with his machines and caused the fire. He had nothing to do with it!"
"Then he was lying!"
"Calm down!" she begged. "Listen to me!"
"We listened to the Fireclown's lies for too long. Why listen to yours?"
"The Fireclown told you no lies. You interpreted what he said so that it meant what you wanted it to mean. Now you're doing the same to me! The Fireclown is innocent!"
Alan whispered. "Don't go too far, Helen. You've said enough."
She must have realized that she had overshot her mark. She had been carried away by the heat of the argument, had admitted she thought the Fireclown innocent.
Alan could imagine what the lasercasts and news-sheets would say in the morning.