Read Online The Lost Perception by Daniel F. Galouye - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Daniel F. Galouye
Tags: Science-Fiction
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hierarchy—headed by Director Radcliff, the commandant of the International Guard and officers-in-charge of the bureau’s Communications and Space Divisions.
Gregson and Eric Friedmann, the special agent from Bavaria, were seated at a table on the right while on the left, bound and gagged, was the human conspirator Wellford had overpowered on Forty-Third Street.
Radcliff made his sober introductory presentation much along the same lines he had followed at the London briefing. At one point, both Gregson and Friedmann were required to elaborate on the accounts he had given of their experiences.
Then the prisoner’s gag was ordered removed.
The man swore for some time and surged against his bonds. Then he shouted, “You damned fools! Don’t you see what they’re doing? They want to put you in chains! The Valorians can’t hypnotize anybody! They…”
Motioning for the gag to be replaced, Radcliff faced the press with his head bowed.
“This is what we are up against. A force that can turn us into insensate robots. Destroy our will to resist. Synthesize in each of us a distorted sense of loyalty. Reduce us to unthinking servitude.”
When he showed the film clip on his questioning of the Valorian at the London briefing, it brought Gregson’s thoughts painfully back to the appalling sight of Wellford going Screamie and being rushed to London’s Central Isolation Institute in Hyde Park.
Then, dismayed, he recalled that the attack had been predicted by the same woman who had prophesied his own final seizure at Forsythe’s farm day after tomorrow.
The zip of Radcliff’s laser pistol in the film ended Gregson’s preoccupation and he was surprised to see that the director had shown the slaying. But then he realized it had been intended as a battle cry—an exhortation that would bring all human sentiment to a fighting pitch and set the tone of attack.
* * *
Even before the press conference’s question and answer period was over, reports on initial reaction were already flowing into the Security Bureau’s Communications Division.
A Buenos Aires woman, turning Screamer as she watched the expose on a trivision set in the window of an International Guard post, was ignored by the crowd about her. Instead, the frightened Argentineans directed their wrath on a slight, olive-complexioned man with little hair who futilely shouted that he wasn’t a Valorian.
In Monroe County, Pennsylvania, house-to-house and farm-to-farm searches were organized spontaneously. Some of the vigilantes thought it might help matters if they burned out the forests and fields in their wake.
In Osaka, a horde of confused Japanese, depending on a faulty translingual pickup device for their interpretation of the tricast, assumed they were being told not that the Screamies were caused by the Valorians, but that the Screamers were Valorians.
Consequently, they burned their Central Isolation Institute to the ground.
Most encouraging of all the early reports, Gregson realized when he learned about it later, was the development in Belleau Wood near Paris. There, two haggard and bruised men staggered into a National Police post and surrendered to the International Guard detail.
They had been cell members, they explained, but now wanted to be quarantined. Even before the tricast had ended, there had been a fight. One man had been killed. Two others, refusing to believe the tricast, had fled with their Valorian leader.
After the press conference ended, Radcliff insisted to Gregson that he was not concerned over the incident of misdirected human indignation. Perhaps, he admitted, the initial reaction had been too extreme. But at least it showed no lack of righteous belligerence.
Tuesday’s expos£ had one unanticipated result in Manhattan. Thousands crowded East Avenue and the shores of the river, determined that the headquarters which was directing the counteroffensive against the Valorians would not again come under assault by an enemy
Gregson and Eric Friedmann, the special agent from Bavaria, were seated at a table on the right while on the left, bound and gagged, was the human conspirator Wellford had overpowered on Forty-Third Street.
Radcliff made his sober introductory presentation much along the same lines he had followed at the London briefing. At one point, both Gregson and Friedmann were required to elaborate on the accounts he had given of their experiences.
Then the prisoner’s gag was ordered removed.
The man swore for some time and surged against his bonds. Then he shouted, “You damned fools! Don’t you see what they’re doing? They want to put you in chains! The Valorians can’t hypnotize anybody! They…”
Motioning for the gag to be replaced, Radcliff faced the press with his head bowed.
“This is what we are up against. A force that can turn us into insensate robots. Destroy our will to resist. Synthesize in each of us a distorted sense of loyalty. Reduce us to unthinking servitude.”
When he showed the film clip on his questioning of the Valorian at the London briefing, it brought Gregson’s thoughts painfully back to the appalling sight of Wellford going Screamie and being rushed to London’s Central Isolation Institute in Hyde Park.
Then, dismayed, he recalled that the attack had been predicted by the same woman who had prophesied his own final seizure at Forsythe’s farm day after tomorrow.
The zip of Radcliff’s laser pistol in the film ended Gregson’s preoccupation and he was surprised to see that the director had shown the slaying. But then he realized it had been intended as a battle cry—an exhortation that would bring all human sentiment to a fighting pitch and set the tone of attack.
* * *
Even before the press conference’s question and answer period was over, reports on initial reaction were already flowing into the Security Bureau’s Communications Division.
A Buenos Aires woman, turning Screamer as she watched the expose on a trivision set in the window of an International Guard post, was ignored by the crowd about her. Instead, the frightened Argentineans directed their wrath on a slight, olive-complexioned man with little hair who futilely shouted that he wasn’t a Valorian.
In Monroe County, Pennsylvania, house-to-house and farm-to-farm searches were organized spontaneously. Some of the vigilantes thought it might help matters if they burned out the forests and fields in their wake.
In Osaka, a horde of confused Japanese, depending on a faulty translingual pickup device for their interpretation of the tricast, assumed they were being told not that the Screamies were caused by the Valorians, but that the Screamers were Valorians.
Consequently, they burned their Central Isolation Institute to the ground.
Most encouraging of all the early reports, Gregson realized when he learned about it later, was the development in Belleau Wood near Paris. There, two haggard and bruised men staggered into a National Police post and surrendered to the International Guard detail.
They had been cell members, they explained, but now wanted to be quarantined. Even before the tricast had ended, there had been a fight. One man had been killed. Two others, refusing to believe the tricast, had fled with their Valorian leader.
After the press conference ended, Radcliff insisted to Gregson that he was not concerned over the incident of misdirected human indignation. Perhaps, he admitted, the initial reaction had been too extreme. But at least it showed no lack of righteous belligerence.
Tuesday’s expos£ had one unanticipated result in Manhattan. Thousands crowded East Avenue and the shores of the river, determined that the headquarters which was directing the counteroffensive against the Valorians would not again come under assault by an enemy
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