"Yeah ..." softly again. "Yeah, Mr. Booth."
"_Yes!_" I cried impatiently. "Not 'yeah,' but _yes_!"
I searched for his severance pay on my desk, wondering who the devil had
hired him in the first place. Gave him three weeks pay, as I recall it,
one more than necessary.
Unmannerly pup! He just stood there for a minute and then finally left
without even a "Thank you," or "Good-by."
And this is the man who is Kyle the First, Ruler of Terra at the age of
thirty-seven! I wonder what he is like now....
* * * * *
January 1, 1
New San Francisco
There is no longer any need to wonder. Surprisingly few heads have
rolled, but apparently Jonesy chooses to exhibit his power in other
ways.
Thanksgiving Day, a custom preserved in certain portions of the
Directorate of North America, is three weeks away--even though it is
January.
The Year One. There used to be some childish joke about the Year One.
Don't remember it just now.
Thanksgiving harvest in January. Christmas celebration in February.
Spring planting in July! To say nothing of the inconvenience this has
caused in my bookkeeping department! I suppose the man will now try to
change the weather to suit his new calendar!
* * * * *
January 8, 1
New San Francisco
He can't last! He can't! A dictator is one thing. A monarch is another.
But Kyle is something else!
Naturally he had to remove certain persons from his way. And his summer
palace in the plains region of America--that's all right, that's all
right! An authority of Kyle's stature is expected to remove
undesirables, and to have a summer palace, and a winter palace, and
anything else he wants! Of course!
But why this? Why _this_ of all things!
No newspapers! Just like that! _He_ waves an edict, and just like that,
_no newspapers_! The _Beacon-Sentinel_ has been a great paper for the
last twenty-five years! It was nothing, and I was nothing, and together
we became a Voice! And now again, we are nothing!
Oh, I see what's behind it! It's revenge, that's what it is! Because he
once couldn't become a "noospaper" man, he's taking his vengeance this
way.
A man as petty as that shall be overthrown! Mark my words! And the
clumsiness of it!
I see what he is! I know him! He's still that pup of seventeen, playing
king with the world, twisting his hands in glee over his childish
triumph.
No subtlety! Just a direct pushing over an applecart he couldn't steer!
Doesn't matter whose apples you destroy, does it, Jonesy? Just push it
over--push it over!
* * * * *
January 16, 1
New San Francisco
Closed the _Beacon-Sentinel_ yesterday. My savings are enough to take
care of me for a few years. After that--ah, well, I am no longer a young
man. I am glad that Elsa is not here to see this.
* * * * *
February 12, 1
New San Francisco
Received a letter this morning, requesting me to appear at the chambers
of His Most Imperial Majesty, Kyle the First, on Tuesday of next week.
His Most Imperial Majesty can see me between 10:15 and 10:25 on that
morning.
Ten minutes--rather a brief spell in which to roll another head.
I find myself amazed, though. Is this man so truly powerful that he
needs no police to make his arrests for him? Can he really send messages
via jetmail and be certain his enemies will not try to escape?