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Emperor Mortiiy, on the dais, looked out across the turbulent Grand Council hall. Heller, on the dais beside him, seeing that he was about to speak, hit the table with his handgun butt for quiet. "Thank you, Noble Stuffy, for your assistance in this matter. Now____________________
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"Oh, Your Majesty!" cried Noble Stuffy. "That is not why we're here." There was a surge behind him as half a dozen publishers moved forward to stand near his chair, a gesture to back him up. "Noble Stuffy," said Mortiiy, "the only reason we, the Emperor, are attending this meeting, which fact, you will admit, is unusual, is to get to the bottom of these recent disturbances. If you have requests of another nature, I suggest that you wait until a proper Grand Council is formed____________________
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"Oh, Your Majesty!" cried Noble Stuffy. "What I wish you to institute has EVERYTHING to do with the recent riots. We want you to appoint a Royal Censor." "A WHAT?" cried Mortiiy, startled. "I never thought I would see the day when newspapers would tolerate being told what they could or could not print. Incredible!" "Well, yes, Your Majesty," said Noble Stuffy, clinging stubbornly to the position he had been momentarily granted at the table. "We publishers would form a committee under him and we would give him the code he would enforce. You see, Your Majesty, newspapers have never before been forced into competition for circulation. Each paper had its own type of reader and sphere of interest, Homeview simply quoted us: we were quite happy and profitable. But with the introduction of yellow journalism, each paper finds itself-" "Yellow journalism?" said Mortiiy. "What's that?" "Super sensationalism," said Noble Stuffy. "Since it came into practice, each paper finds itself vying with the rest to see which one can sell the most papers by telling the biggest lies." "WHAT?" cried Mortiiy, black beard bristling. His well-known shortness of temper was suddenly shorter, "Yes, Your Majesty. The situation is entirely out of our own control. Our reporters are lying, cheating, manufacturing false evidence, even our editors are whipping them on. It began even before the Gris trial. We publishers are helpless. We want a Royal Censor we can resort to when a newspaper finds that it is. being used as a tool for PR." "Now you've lost me," said Mortiiy, giving a cross gesture of dismissal. "You had better take this up____________________
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Seeing he was losing, Noble Stuffy wailed, "But, Your Majesty, it was PR that caused the riots!" "WHAT? Is it some kind of anger bomb?" "Oh, worse. Far, far worse____________________
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There was a battering clatter at the main entrance and voices raised. All heads turned toward it. "I don't care!" the Fleet marine captain was shouting. "Pick up those lights and get out and stay out! This hall is JAMMED! There's one Homeview crew here already!" "That's the point, you idiot!" a man in aqua-green was shouting. "Men, shove right on in!" The tan of Fleet marines and aqua-green of the newcomers went into a boil at the entrance door. In a high-pitched, reaching voice, Heller shouted, "Stand!" The Fleet marines instantly froze. One of the men in aqua-green stepped forward. "What's all this?" shouted Heller. "I'm a Homeview crew director," the man yelled back across the hall. "The manager in Joy City sent us out here posthaste, spare no air-trucks, to get some stupid idiot off the commentator cha