Donald Moffitt - Genesis 01

in—some with patent enthusiasm, some because they were being prodded by mono-clad agitators—until a good half of the meeting was on record as showing support for the gray-draped figure on the platform. The other half, intimidated, kept silent and neutral.
    Penser waited until the prearranged demonstration ended, then began to speak, simply and quietly.
    “The time has come to stand up and be counted. The time has come to prove your allegiance to the great idea which is the human race. The time has come to make a choice. And that choice will be judged harshly. There will be no forgiveness for those who make the wrong choice. For the universe does not forgive. I tell you the time is at hand. The time has come …”
    The simple sentences and the repetition had a hypnotic effect. There was an impression of untapped power behind them. And, Bram had to admit, Penser had a magnificent speaking voice and knew how to use it. As Penser gathered force, the crowd was visibly swayed. Even Bram, much as he now detested the man, found himself responding on some primitive level.
    “… Man was made by Man. Man made Himself. The Nar were merely his instrument. The Nar were his tool. And how were the Nar made? By the accidents of organic chemistry in a primordial soup. They are accidents of creation. But Man was created with a purpose. For a purpose. To master the universe. To own all of creation …”
    It was obvious that if Penser went on, he was going to carry the meeting. Some of the members who had previously spoken out against Penser grew visibly agitated, muttering among themselves and wriggling in their chairs like schoolchildren. The toughs in sleeveless monos who were monitoring the crowd’s behavior moved in a little closer, watchful and alert.
    Gorch, the man who was worried about violence in the Quarter, was speaking in low tones to the person next to him, a large raw-knuckled man who looked as if he did a lot of outdoor labor. Bram remembered his name: Lai. At the previous Ascendist meeting, Lai had spoken in favor of a peaceful infiltration of Nar society. He had advocated token human representation in Nar institutions proportional to human numbers. At the time, Gorch had accused him of being a Partnerite. Now it looked as if Gorch and Lai were on the same side.
    “Unfortunately, the human species is not united in its aspirations,” Penser was saying, the model of reasonableness. “There are destructive elements among us …”
    It was too much for Gorch. Gathering courage from the mutterings of the cronies around him, he lurched to his feet and shouted, “The destructive elements are those who’re risking forfeiting the good opinion of the Nar with this violence in the Quarter! Why are we letting this Juxtian interloper intimidate us? Let’s get back to the business of this meeting and vote on the resolution!”
    The goons moved in joyfully. Shoving people aside, they grabbed Gorch. Bram saw one of them produce the electrical shocking instrument that had been displayed to Penser’s troops.
    He didn’t see it actually make contact. But it must have touched Gorch somewhere—Bram heard a mindless reflexive cry of pain, and Gorch went down, flopping.
    The man who had applied the dose of current turned Gorch’s body over with his foot. Gorch’s mouth hung open; his eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling. You could tell he was still alive because his arms and legs kept twitching minutely and a feeble gargling sound was coming from the back of his throat.
    Lai had his big workman’s hands around the throat of the Penserite who had shoved him aside. A couple of the others were struggling with Pite’s henchmen, too, and getting the worst of it. Another young man, inspired to do battle by their example, leaped up. More of the Penserite strong-arm men moved in.
    On the platform, Penser waited, detached and distant, for the disturbance to end. The blue-ringed eyes showed no interest. To Bram, Penser’s aloofness was more chilling than any show of impatience would have been.
    Somebody clubbed the young man who had tried to join in. The sound of the club against the side of his head could be heard at the back of the hall. He sank to his knees, blood streaming down his face.
    Their other opponents disposed of, the bullyboys converged on Lai. They didn’t bother to try to pry his fingers from around their friend’s neck. A club struck Lai between the eyes, right across the bridge of the nose, and he let go,