Armageddon Crazy

"As with revolution," he said, "the best time to fight counterrevolution is before it gets started."

It was not too long, though, before he was hampered in his efforts by the growing madness in the outside world and the reports of it that began to choke every communication cha

Later it would be called the Armageddon Crazy, and it would go into the textbooks as one of the most extreme cases of riptide mass hysteria in a supposedly developed country. The appearance of Mansard's skywalkers had convinced vast numbers of people that Judgment Day was really at hand, and those vast numbers of people began to act accordingly. They went nuts. Initially it was confined to the crowds lining the Manhattan and Jersey sides of the river. People hurled themselves into the river in ever growing numbers. There were points during the night, even after the skywalkers were long gone, when the margins of the Hudson looked like a lemming fest, with bobbing heads and the thrashings of non-swimmers who had decided that they did not want to die after all. Unfortunately, the mania did not stay confined to the river for long. It rapidly spread across the city. By midnight, it was estimated that over two million people were raging through New York City, weeping, wailing, talking in tongues, and doing their best to damage themselves. At first the police had attempted to employ normal crowd-control measures, but after a while they were forced to admit defeat and simply step aside. The Armageddon Crazy was too highly charged to be kept in check. Also peace officers were not necessarily immune. The entire crew of a Pharaoh flipped out together and ran their armored carrier off the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge. Many of those affected took it into their heads to go to graveyards and search for resurrected relatives. The hysteria was compounded by hundreds of people stumbling around among the headstones.

It was quickly discovered that the insanity could be transmitted electronically. With the TV censorship system burned out by virus, the images from New York – the giant skywalkers and the madness they had caused – went out unchecked, all over the country. As soon as the footage hit the screens in another city the same thing happened. Chicago, St. Louis, and Atlanta were infected immediately. New Orleans, Baltimore, and Detroit lasted an hour. Los Angeles held out for almost four hours, but when the Crazy got going, that city suffered one of the most spectacular outbreaks in the country. Hymn-singing arsonists burned huge tracts of the bone-dry Hollywood Hills, and naked millionaires ran down Rodeo Drive trying to give away their money. The gay underground took it as the signal to rise. Armed drag queens battled deacons to a standstill in a firelight that ran for twenty blocks down Santa Monica Boulevard.

The original plan had intended that Arlen Proverb go on TV the moment Faithful was in custody and pitch the idea of a brave new world to the country. That crucial move quickly fell victim to the Crazy. Dreisler had Proverb stashed in a safe house on the Upper East Side. When the signal was given, Proverb was supposed to get to a small basement studio and give his address, to those who still thought there might be a tomorrow, through a remote feed. The signal was sent, but nothing came back. It was discovered that the landline from the uptown studio had been put out of commission by an over-zealous virus. The backup plan called for Proverb to go across the park to another studio located at Seventy-ninth and Amsterdam. According to a garbled phone message, Proverb had set off with an escort but had not been heard from since. There were reports that thousands had gathered in Central Park to pray for the end. It was all too possible that the sight of a white limo trying to bull its way through might have driven them into a kill frenzy.

In the com center, a single screen was flashing regular blue and yellow pulses. An operator pointed to it. "That could be someone trying to get a visual signal in and it's being blocked."

Dreisler glanced at Hama. "Can you jack in and create a cha

The Japanese bowed. "Of course."

He quickly co

Within seconds, an image of Proverb replaced the blue and yellow pulsing. His hair was messed and mere was a cut over his left eye, but otherwise he seemed okay. At first, he was mouthing soundlessly, like a fish in an aquarium, but then the audio cut in with an amplified crackle.

"… hear me? Is there anybody out there?"

Dreisler was on his feet. "Proverb, can you hear me?"

Proverb nodded. "I can hear you, but I can't see you."

Dreisler turned to Hama again. "Can we patch him to the satellite send?"

"No problem."

"Okay, Alien, can you go on the air?"

Proverb pushed his hair back out of his eyes. "Now?"

"Right now."

"I'm a bit of a mess, but I guess so."

Dreisler looked around the room. "Get ready to transmit this on all available cha

Carlisle supposed that Dreisler was what had once been called a natural leader. He had his doubts about where the deacon might be leading them, though.

Proverb nodded. The professional communicator was coming through. "On your cue."

"I'll give you a ten-second count."

Proverb had appeared on all the TV monitor screens. A digital display counted off the time. Cynthia Kline slipped into the seat next to Harry Carlisle. She quickly squeezed his arm.

"Is it going to be possible for us to be friends when all this is over?" she asked quietly.

Carlisle raised a helpless hand. "Let's find out when all this is all over."

"Are we through? Are you that angry with me?"

Carlisle shook his head. "Not angry. It's just hard dealing with the idea that all the time we were sleeping together, we were actually on opposite sides."

"I couldn't tell you who I really was. You must realize that."

"I realize it all on a logical level. It's the emotional acceptance that I'm having trouble with. Hell, it was my job to catch you people and put you in jail, maybe see you hang. It's not an easy turnaround."

"We're on the same side now."

Carlisle sighed. "That is true."

Cynthia looked at him anxiously. "So?"

He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. "So let's see this thing through and then have a long talk about what we're going to do next."

Over on the other side of the room, Dreisler gestured with a flourish. "On the air."

A synthivoice provided the program interrupt. "We are taking you to New York City for a message from the Provisional Government of National Reconstruction."

Proverb betrayed one flash of uncertainty, and then the pro was in business. He had the expression of a man who had seen some hard times but knew he was going to win out in the end. Carlisle realized that another piece of history was being made.

"My friends, there's some of you out there who know me and some who don't. For those of you who don't, my name is Arlen Proverb. This morning I was a preacher and pretty sure of myself. Tonight, after everything that has happened, I'm just an American, and there's only one thing that I'm still certain about. I want to see this country regain its self-respect."

Speedboat

"… I want to see this country regain its self-respect. It seems that some of us have forgotten that when you come down to it, that's all any of us are – just Americans."

Speedboat reached for his beer. "What are they high on down there?"