"That so-called conscience gas we banked so much on. They must have
engineered the whole thing, including your escape from Ultra."
Gov and I and the rest of his crew were at the penthouse office on
Fifth Avenue.
The rally at Madison Square Garden had been a smashing success, as we'd
been allowed to see, to our discomfiture, from the wings where we'd
been herded after our capture.
We were now, on Monday morning, sitting or standing around in Addison
Madison's office, wondering what was going to happen to us. The
Monolithians had treated us gallantly so far, having put us up for the
night at the Taft Hotel, guarded no more obtrusively than a bunch of
suburban high-school seniors staying in town after the prom.
Now, at the Monolithian GHQ, though there was a constant flow of aliens
in and out, none of them so far had had anything to say to us except
busy good mornings. I didn't recognize any of them. Frij, alias Addison
Madison, hadn't arrived yet, if he was due at all.
He had been very much in evidence at the Garden last night, public
relationing in his most offensive manner, and I supposed he was still
resting from his exertions which, Lord knew, had been a Monolithian
triumph. The usually unimpressionable New York _Times_ replated six
times for it and gave it a three-line, eight-column banner head.
I had been trying to explain to Gov how he could tell one late city
edition of the _Times_ from another by the decreasing number of dots
between the volume and number up under the left ear on page one, but
all Gov had on his mind was the conscience-gas fiasco.
"Maybe they used their defense shield against it," Gov said. "Or maybe
they're just naturally immune. But the best explanation is that they
palmed off a phony on you when you swiped the stuff from Ultra. It was
all just too pat to be real."
Addison Madison came in and said, "Oh, yeah, Mr. former President? Is
that so?" He sounded as if he'd heard everything we'd said and when I
asked him he had no qualms about admitting it.
"Let me tell you wise guys something," Addison Madison-Frij went on.
"The conscience gas is the genuine article. It worked on General Rafael
Domingo Sanchez of El Spaniola when we kept him from O-bombing your
retrograde civilization and it also worked, believe it or not, on my
colleague, the new President, at the Garden last night. So put that in
your pipes and smoke it, Mr. Ex-President, and you, too, Mr. Ex-Hotshot
Newspaperman."
"You're crazy," I said. "Let's assume for the sake of argument that
it worked on Domingo Sanchez and that the Spaniola thing _wasn't_ a
hoax...."
"Your assumption would be correct," Frij said. "You don't know how
irresponsible you Earthpeople are."
I let that go for the moment and said, "But your colleague, as you call
him--the fake President Allison--was no more affected by the stuff in
our phony cameras than the man in the moon."
"Ha ha," Frij said. "That shows how much you know. He _was_ affected
but it made no difference." He let that sink in for a while. "Do you
want to know why?"
"Why?" Gov asked.
"Because," Frij said "--now grasp this concept if you can--because my
colleague, the new President, was sincere. His conscience was already
clear."
Gov and I looked from him to each other. Much as we detested Frij, it
began to dawn on us that he might be telling the truth.
"You mean," Gov said, "that it's true that you Monolithians have no
purpose other than saving us from ourselves?"
"Precisely," Frij said. "You could not have put it more aptly."
"Then my story--the big exposé Rod and I wrote on Ultra--was all wrong?"
"It couldn't have been more wrong," Frij said.
"And Domingo Sanchez _wasn't_ your patsy?" I was slowly and reluctantly
patching it together.
"You assumed that a minute ago," Frij said. "Now you believe it."
Gov, looking unutterably weary, said, "I'm afraid I believe it--and all
that it implies. It means that Earth really had no choice whatever. The
other Presidents and the Prime Ministers and I were forced to accept
the Monolithians' terms to avert the Spaniolan threat--which I am now
again convinced was no idle one. So we had to agree to the super-summit
on Ultra, which, of course, set the stage for the substitution of
Monolithian duplicates for Earth's leaders."
Gov smiled wanly and went on. "The fact that I sent a double of myself
to Ultra only delayed matters slightly. You finally got me anyway."
Mox came in then. Like Frij before him, he obviously knew everything
that had been said.
Mox, looking like a saint in his Monolithian robe, in contrast to
Frij's flashy American clothes, said, "Frij, I think you've been out
here too long. You've adopted not only the Earthman's protective
coloration but some of his sadistic ways. Why haven't you told Mr.
Allison why we wanted him?"
"I was coming to it," Frij said defensively.
"Go, Frij," Mox said. "I will tell him. Go back to Monolithia on
the next lighter and re-enroll at the Foreign Service School for a
refresher course in interplanetary relations. Consider your punishment
the fact that I have reprimanded you in public. Leave us now."
"Yes, Mox," Frij said humbly. He went out, and that was the last Earth
saw of Addison Madison or anyone like him.
Mox smiled. "My apologies, gentlemen." He looked like dignity incarnate
and I wondered suddenly if this were the mysterious "Mr. M.," the head
Monolithian who had taken part in the conference on Ultra that decided
Earth's fate. I halfway hoped so; he seemed so much the just, kindly,
elder-statesman, father-image type who inspired trust and confidence.
Gov said, "Mr. Mox, I'm a tired old man, especially after last night.
I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me what the hell's going on and,
particularly, where I go from here. If I'm going to be led out and shot
I'd just as soon get it over with, frankly, if it's all the same to
you."
Mox looked shocked. "My dear sir," he said. "Nothing is further from
our plans. All we want is for you to resume your rightful place in the
White House, at the head of your government."
Gov exhaled a long sigh of relief.
Therefore he had no choice except to breathe in again--by which time
Mox had crushed a tiny capsule in his palm and held it under Gov's nose.