Читать книгу The Face of Heaven - Brian Stableford - Страница 16

Chapter 12

It was some two weeks after publication that the Magner affair began to get off the ground. The man who initiated the cause célèbre was Alwyn Ballow, a software processer for the holovisual network. He took it to Yvon Emerich, who was the major influence in the live media.

Emerich was a busy man. He was a man with a burning need to keep himself busy, to burn himself out. He had a great deal of energy to expend and he expended it all outwards, sending it worldwide throughout the network, throwing his sound and fury into every household which cared to switch him on. The sheer power of his extrovert determination was enough to command him a vast audience. He had innumerably more enemies than friends, but his enemies loved him more than his closest allies. He had nothing to offer friends but everything to offer enemies—people luxuriated in the charisma of his attacks, and he attacked everybody, tearing down all points of view with equal verve. No one really suffered from an attack by Emerich simply because in the laissez-faire world of the Millennium no one had the level of commitment necessary to suffer destruction at his hands. Argument was a gladitorial game, in which the loser changed his ground and everybody enjoyed the show.

Ballow was scared stiff of Emerich, but he was willing enough to absorb his fear if he could start something in motion. He confronted Emerich and came straight to the point.

“The Marriage of Heaven and Hell,” he said.

“What about it?” demanded Emerich.

“Have you read it?”

“You know damn well I never read anything. I know what it’s about. What the hell would I want with it?”

“It’s good.”

“Call Sauldron. He’s an arts man.”

“Not that sort of good,” Ballow persisted. “Good for a run. It’s got one hell of a bite—the first real bite we’ve seen for a long time. Could be the biggest ever.”

“The man’s a lunatic,” said Emerich shortly—though the fact that he was prepared to argue meant that he was prepared to listen and take note—”and you can’t make a big thing out of a lunatic. In the end, a lunatic will make you look a fool. Every time. No percentage.”

“No,” said Ballow. “This proposal might be insane but it has mileage. It’s going to attract some pretty hot discussion at all levels. If we can get in now we can carve up that discussion and feed it. It’ll go right to the top, and I mean the top. The Eupsychians will take it up purely as agitation, but it’s not really a Eupsychian thing. It goes deeper. When this gets to the Hegemony they’re going to find that it’s hot. It can’t be ignored and it can’t be laughed off. Heres and his cohort have been retreating toward the wall for forty years or more now and it won’t take much more to break their back. This could be it, if it’s blown up enough. Somebody somewhere is going to try, and try hard. And we ought to be in there to feed on it. This is our meat, Yvon, provided it’s handled right.”

Emerich stared at the other man for a few seconds, and then made up his mind. “Okay,” he said, and cut the image. The voiceprinter screen faded to dull gray. Emerich remained staring at it for a few seconds more. He was hooked. He would have to chase it if only to find out what the hell Ballow was talking about.

He requisitioned a couple of copies from his desk unit, and scanned the first few pages as they fluttered out of the lineprinter. He grimaced dramatically, and dropped the printout with distaste. He reached for the voiceprinter again. He would have to find someone to read it for him.