He had seen the murderer leaving the scene of the crime, and the man
he had seen was in the courtroom today, watching Chandler's own trial. Chandler caught his lawyer by the arm and jerked him away from staring
at the scene. All of a sudden he was alive again. "You, damn it.
Listen! The jury acquitted me, right?" Because of the crowd they held Chandler's trial in the all-purpose room
of the high school. It smelled of leather and stale sweat. He walked up The bailiff ordered Chandler to stand and informed him that he was
accused of having, on the seventeenth day of June last, committed on prosecutor allowed her to stammer out her observation that the girl had
clearly been raped. And she had seen Chandler laughing and breaking up
the place, throwing racks of cultures through the windows, upsetting The judge was having a long mumble with the court stenographer
apparently about something which had happened in the Union House the
night before. Chandler knew Judge Ellithorp slightly. He did not The odd thing about Chandler's dilemma was not merely that he was
innocent--in a way, that is--but that many who were guilty (in a way; Chandler's own lawyer had pointed that out to him the day before the
trial. "If it was anywhere but at the McKelvey plant, all right, but disappointment if Chandler had pleaded guilty. They wanted to see
one of the vilest criminals in contemporary human society caught,
exposed, convicted and punished; they did not want to miss a step of and unconscious later. The plant police testified to having arrested
Chandler; a doctor described in chaste medical words the derangements It was like an electric shock--the touch of her fingers and the touch
of reality at once. Chandler said stiffly, "My brand. But I thought you
were there at the trial." The lawyer came back, with the expression of a man who has won a
victory he did not expect, and did not want. "Your last chance,
Chandler. Change your plea to guilty."

"But--" His attorney asked him the question he had been waiting for: "Tell
us, in your own words, what happened." Chandler opened his mouth, and Chandler's lawyer tapped him on the shoulder. "Last chance to change
your mind," he said.

"No. I'm not guilty, and that's the way I want to plead." With unexpected clarity Chandler realized he was on trial for his life.
"Cook? No, I'm afraid not. I mean, I can boil eggs," he said. "Nothing
fancy." of almost any community in the world in those years; Chandler's was not
unique. What had put Chandler in the dock was not what his body had Chandler hesitated. "Make up your mind! The best I can do otherwise is
a mistrial, and that means you'll get convicted by another jury next
week." question. Chandler did not hope to pretend that he had not ravished and
nearly killed one girl, then done his best to repeat the process on
another. Sitting there as the doctor testified, Chandler was able to "What case?" Chandler demanded. "I never denied the acts. What else did
they prove?" Chandler protested that he didn't have to commit rape. He'd been a
widower for a year, but--
She talked of her life on the stage, the excitement of a performance,
the entertainers she had known. Her conversation was one long She hesitated, and did not go on. "You know," she said, "I came here
the same way you did. Kidnaped off the stage of the Winter Garden. Of "No, no! You're supposed to say, 'Why, the original-cast album from
_Hi There_.' Or anything else I starred in." She shook her head 9:23 PM, E.S.T.: Rosalie Pan, musical-comedy star, jumps off stage,
runs up center aisle and vanishes in cab, wearing beaded bra, G-string was talking about the night New York was bombed. "I was in the middle
of the big first-act curtain number when--" her face was strained, been fun. My name's Bradley. I always think people ought to know each
other's names in cases like this. Imagine sharing a grave with some
utter stranger!" Chandler said, smiling, and almost relaxed, "I'm sorry, but musical
comedies weren't my strong point. I did see you once, though, on He caught a second's glimpse of someone just beside him, whirled and
saw the girl, Ellen Braisted, limping swiftly toward him with her ("All saved, all of us saved," rolled a murmur from the congregation.)
A lean, red-headed man bounded to the platform and fussed with the
stand of spotlights, turning one of them full on Chandler. visited, but he recognized the names. Rosie had been married once to
an English actor whose movies Chandler had made a point of watching on He looked at Chandler without much interest. "Vot's your name?" he
wheezed. He had a heavy, ineradicable accent, like a Hapsburg or a They were songs from Rosalie's own musical comedies. Even with so poor
an instrument as Chandler's voice to work with, she sang well enough to She wore a coronet like the fat man's, intertwined in a complicated
hairdo, and she got right down to business. "Chandler, is it? All You'd be astonished, really." She mentioned several names, world-famous
scientists, musicians, writers. "Of course, not everybody can qualify He saw girls he had dated in high school, long before he met Margot;
men he worked with at the plant. They all glanced at him, but he was Ellen Braisted raised her face from her hands and, her eyes streaming,
quietly stood up and followed. The old lady with the arthritis Ellen Braisted had given him was beginning to hurt badly. If only these
people were not such obvious _nuts_, he thought, he would feel a lot She was tall, dark and not quite young. Chandler, struck by her beauty,
was sure that he had seen her, somewhere, but could not place her face. Chandler shifted uncomfortably, while an old woman crippled by
arthritis began fumbling a tune out of an electric organ. The burn "You must have had some friends," Chandler began, and let it trail off.
So did the girl. After a moment she began to talk about the scenery
The scream became a word, in many voices chorused: _Possessed!_ And
beyond doubt the woman was. The men around her hurled themselves away, She didn't like to talk about it, that was clear, but that was the
reason. She had been possessed. When the teen-ager trapped her car the ready to pray a possessing spirit out. Chandler, who kept an open mind,
had considerable doubt of the effectiveness of all the amulets and They seemed, in fact, to have worked out, on whatever crazed foundation
of philosophy, some practical methods for coping with possession. He
decided to stay, wait and see. trays. Of course she had crossed herself and tried a quick exorcism but
there was no visible effect; then Chandler had leaped at her. "He was because not many people come this way any more, and we've had to kill
a lot. Yes, we have. Sometimes the possessed just can't be saved, but--" They were marching toward the corner of the room where the rifles were
stacked. "Possessed!" Chandler bellowed, the words tasting of acid as possessed. The only difference between Guy and you and me was that he
knew what to do about it, because he read the book, you see. Not that "House rules," she said. "Keeps the flame-spirits out, you know. They
can't stand pain." She took her hand off the knife warily, "it still
hurts, doesn't it?" These were the first cases of possession seen by the world in some
five hundred years, since the great casting out of devils of the been seen to do, but the place in which it had been seen to do it. For
everybody knew that medicine and agriculture were never molested by the
demons. If the child had been an adult it might have been warning enough. But
the child had never experienced possession before, was not sure enough,
was clear into the schoolhouse before the remaining members of the No, said Chandler, certainly not! But then he had to stop and think.
After all, he had never been possessed before; in fact, he had always about the only place in town where you could be sure you wouldn't be
possessed, or so everybody thought. Including me. Up to the time I went
ape." "I didn't do it. I mean, I did the acts, but I was possessed. That's
all. Others have done worse, under the same circumstances, and been It seemed remiss to start a day without signing the Cross or hearing a
few exorcismal verses. It seemed to be mid-morning, time for work to While the Western World was celebrating Christmas--the Christmas before
the first outbreak of possession in the outside world--the man who
invented the machine was secretly demonstrating it to another man. Both be beginning at the plant. The lab men would be streaming in, their
amulets examined at the door. The chaplains would be wandering about, In the garage his body stopped and looked wildly around. "Knives,
torches," his lips chanted. "Shall I gouge out eyes? Slit throat?" of six. Dr. Palmer, are you there? Well, you better go ahead with
the--prayer." The judge could not make himself say "the exorcism."
When he saw her commit suicide he redoubled his efforts. It was
incredible to him that his life had been saved, and he knew that if he The old lady's expression cleared. She nodded to herself. She then
put the muzzle of the rifle in her mouth and, with her thumb, pulled Appalled, Chandler waited for them to kill themselves. It was suicide to attempt to harm an exec. He would certainly lose his
life--except--that was gone already anyhow; he had lost it. He had
nothing left to lose.




XIV The one whose intestines he had spilled with a silver letteropener in a
whim of hara-kiri?), but just now he was too worn. But in the end he could not save himself; it was the girl who saved
him. That night Chandler tossed in troubled sleep, and woke to find It took hardly five minutes to say everything that needed saying about
Guy, Meggie and the other doomed and suffering inhabitants of the old
house on the mountain. He knew that in a while he would feel very badly for having killed that
girl (which could she have been? The one with the shotgun in the mouth? squad, tidying up the loose ends of the slaughter; he expected that his
body's errand was to destroy itself, and thus him, as all the Orphalese
had been destroyed. blow up; swallow poison, leap from window, slit throat. Every man a
murderer, at the touch of a mind from Hawaii; and if no one else was building where his body lay. He had slit his dozen throats and fired
bullets into his hundred hearts and hundred brains; he had entered
bodies only long enough to feel for a coronet, and if it was there the But less than an hour later he was in her Porsche, cold sober, raging,
frustrated, miserable. He slammed it through the unfamiliar gears as he
sped back to the city. He could go no farther because he had nowhere to go. He had had two
homes and he had been driven from both of them. He had had hope twice,
and twice he had been damned. It was dawn. His job was done. He carried the coronet, the only working
coronet in the world, in his hand. He had spent the night killing, He knew what mind it was that caught him then. It was her mind.
Stiffly, like wood, he released her, stood up, walked to the door and
locked it behind him. She dropped the match and jumped up, stepping on the flame and watching
him. She had a butcher knife that had been caught between her elbow Margot, his wife, had been cut up cruelly. He had seen his friend, Jack
Souther, leaving his home hurriedly as he approached; and although he Then the arthritic lady glanced leisurely about, fired into the
stomach of a wounded man who was trying to rise, reloaded her rifle It was the girl, Ellen, still there, leaning over him and, oddly,
weeping. And the pain in his hand was the burning flame of a kitchen He was free and, in a moment, realized that he was in the building with
the fat bloated body of the man who wanted to murder him, the body that
in its own strength could scarcely stand erect.
Obviously more execs had come to help, attracted by the commotion
perhaps, or summoned at some stolen moment after the meeting had first Linton broke it, his blue eyes gleaming above the beard. "No! Better
than that. Why wait? We can _use_ this fellow's machine. Set it up, get
us some headsets--and we can control the execs themselves!" As he was a trained engineer he was left to labor by himself for hours
on end. It was worse for the others. There seemed to be a dozen execs
hovering invisible around all the time; no sooner was a worker released it was ready to be assembled. The execs did not take part in the work.
Nor were they idle. They busied themselves in one room of the building "I don't know. I was going to ask you the same question, I guess."

The man scowled. "Didn't your exec tell you what to do?"

"My what?" For ten hours, while the afternoon became dark night, they worked
at a furious pace. When the sun set one of the execs gestured and for the possessors. It was a distasteful concept; but on second thought
it had reassuring elements. It was evidence that whatever the "execs" But Hsi was throwing cold water on the idea. "Sorry, but I know that
much: One exec can't control another. The headpieces insulate against got a gun. They can grab your mind faster than you can cut a throat.
Third thing: Don't get the idea there are good execs and bad execs. Without comment Hsi turned back to Chandler. He said, "I believe you.
Would you like to know why it happened? Because I think I can tell you.
The execs have all the antibiotics they need now." old. I thought it was neat of the execs to dispose of the used-up labor
out of sight of the rest of us. So much better for morale ... until sabotage it! How would you like that? The execs switching over to
this equipment while the other one is down for maintenance--and their
headsets don't work!" He was very impatient, for when he was done he would be the only exec.

And the execs would be only slaves.


XV and communications facilities he comes across--especially now, since
they've stockpiled everything they're likely to need for the next
twenty years. We don't know what they're planning to do when the twenty side. In the strange, cruel fantasies with which the Execs indulged
themselves it was likely enough that they would sometimes assume the you forget it. Have to be. Whoever becomes an exec has to be with us,
all the way. There are tests. It has to be that way--not only for our
protection. For the world's." He looked out at the red-headed man, sprawled across the foul line
behind third base, and remembered what he had said. There weren't any
good execs or bad execs. There were only execs. Of the Executive Committee, Chandler thought she meant at first, but
then he thought again. No. Of the world. For the thousand execs, It was suicide to attempt to harm an exec. He would certainly lose his
life--except--that was gone already anyhow; he had lost it. He had
nothing left to lose.




XIV outnumbered though they were two million to one, could not fail to
triumph. The contest would not be in doubt. If the whole thousand execs
at once began systematically to kill and destroy, instead of merely
Long before they reached their destination Chandler had reasoned what
it must be. He was correct: it was the islands of Hawaii. Then his body hesitated, glanced at the ground, paused again and bent
down. It had tripped on a book. It picked the book up, and Chandler saw
that it was the Orphalese copy of Gibran's _The Prophet_. Chandler put down the copy of _The Prophet_ which he had carried so
far and sat on the ground, but again he had no long time to wait. One Koitska squinted at the copy of Gibran's _The Prophet_. He did not
glance at Chandler, but Chandler felt himself propelled out of his Hours later, Chandler was not sure just how, they were in a light plane
flying high over the Pacific, clear out of sight of land. The moon was
gold above them, the ocean black beneath. Chandler got out. The policeman slammed the door behind him, ripping
rubber off his tires with the speed of his U-turn and acceleration back
toward Honolulu. He did not look at Chandler. Chandler stood staring off after him, in bright warm sunlight with a
reek of hibiscus and rotting palms in his nostril. It was very quiet Chandler suffered himself to be bound to a camp chair on the platform
and Walter took a drink of wine and opened the ornate book that was
before him on the rostrum. ("All saved, all of us saved," rolled a murmur from the congregation.)
A lean, red-headed man bounded to the platform and fussed with the
stand of spotlights, turning one of them full on Chandler. Chandler did not know it until he saw something glistening on his
wrist, but he was weeping on the wild ride back to Honolulu in the car. Chandler shrugged and looked out the window ... just in time to see the
jet that had brought him to the islands once more lumbering into life. "The only cargo I brought with me that I can think of is a book," said
Chandler. "Weighs maybe a pound. You think I'm supposed to get on that
plane?" himself knew, it seemed. "Maybe this is only a duplicate. Maybe it
won't be used. But maybe it will--and Chandler's the man who can reading over Chandler's shoulder. "Ho," he said suddenly. "Koitska's
square-wave generator again, right?" Chandler admitted it, and the man "People of Orphalese," chanted Guy, standing behind Chandler with the
muzzle of the gun against his neck, "the _meeting_ of the Orphalese away again. Chandler turned his back on the paralyzed monster to flee.
It would be even better to try to lose himself in Honolulu--if he ready to pray a possessing spirit out. Chandler, who kept an open mind,
had considerable doubt of the effectiveness of all the amulets and enough to be a threat--but something which had proved inconvenient at
one time and therefore needed investigating. As Chandler was the only
survivor they had deemed it worth their godlike whiles to transport him trays. Of course she had crossed herself and tried a quick exorcism but
there was no visible effect; then Chandler had leaped at her. "He was Chandler frowned; then felt his body taken. His lips barked:
"_Khorashaw!_" His body got up and walked to the wall of Rosalie's
"H" for "hoaxer." The mark they were about to put on his forehead would
be with him wherever he went and as long as he lived, which would Chandler climbed down the ladder. With considerable pain he gentled
the cap over the great raw H on his forehead and began to climb the
mountain.

       *       *       *       *       * "Wait a minute!" A bearded man came forward and peered furiously into
Chandler's face. "Look at his head! Don't you see he's branded?" Across the table from Chandler, Hsi looked suddenly changed. His left
hand lay on the table before him, his right hand poised over it.
Apparently he had been about to show Chandler again the sign he had
made. Hsi grinned. "Sorry. I guess that's what I was doing. I do know what an
'H' stands for; we've seen them before. Not many. The ones that do get Chandler touched his scar as the man with the beard hissed, "Damned
hoaxer! This is the lowest species of life on the face of the Chandler stood staring off after him, in bright warm sunlight with a
reek of hibiscus and rotting palms in his nostril. It was very quiet Hsi shook his head. "There's meat, all right, but not here. You'll
only find it in the places where the execs sometimes go.... Tell me
something, Chandler. What's that scar on your forehead." Somehow the woolen cap had been lost. "A brand," he said shortly. "'H'
for 'hoaxer.' I did something when one of you people had me, and they
thought I'd done it on my own." ("All saved, all of us saved," rolled a murmur from the congregation.)
A lean, red-headed man bounded to the platform and fussed with the
stand of spotlights, turning one of them full on Chandler. Chandler frowned; then felt his body taken. His lips barked:
"_Khorashaw!_" His body got up and walked to the wall of Rosalie's He shook his head. For some reason the brand on his forehead began to
throb.

"Well, then you know. Look out here, now." She wore a coronet like the fat man's, intertwined in a complicated
hairdo, and she got right down to business. "Chandler, is it? All It was like an electric shock--the touch of her fingers and the touch
of reality at once. Chandler said stiffly, "My brand. But I thought you
were there at the trial." Hsi cleared his throat and said, "This is the one. I vouch for him."
And that was startling too, Chandler thought, because all these
wrist-circled men and women were looking at _him_. "Damn right it does, man! We're slaves, but we're not animals!"
Chandler had gotten to him; the parts man looked startled, then sallow,
as he observed his own vehemence. reading over Chandler's shoulder. "Ho," he said suddenly. "Koitska's
square-wave generator again, right?" Chandler admitted it, and the man He looked at Chandler without much interest. "Vot's your name?" he
wheezed. He had a heavy, ineradicable accent, like a Hapsburg or a inside, whom Chandler had not seen before, was dressed, oddly, only in
bathing trunks. His face wore the same expression as Hsi's. Chandler The bearded man, sprawling and groggy, slowly rose as Hsi explained
tersely what he had guessed of Chandler's work--as much as Chandler
It was suicide to attempt to harm an exec. He would certainly lose his
life--except--that was gone already anyhow; he had lost it. He had
nothing left to lose.




XIV of the execs, and he was privileged to be able to die trying to kill
_them_. He looked out at the red-headed man, sprawled across the foul line
behind third base, and remembered what he had said. There weren't any
good execs or bad execs. There were only execs. He was very impatient, for when he was done he would be the only exec.

And the execs would be only slaves.


XV blinding shot of the studio lights as the cameraman jumped away and
the instrument swiveled to stare mindlessly upward. Twenty minutes
later the President was dead, as his Secretary of Health and Welfare, side. In the strange, cruel fantasies with which the Execs indulged
themselves it was likely enough that they would sometimes assume the of them were now dead. The inventor had been a Pole, the other man a
former Party leader who, four years before, had rescued the inventor's deaths of his briefly-met friends, or even to think of their quixotic
plans against the execs. Now he began to wonder. ordered it was dead before the first reel spun, and his successor was
not quite sworn in when it became his time to die. The ceremony was
interrupted for an emergency call from the War Room, where a very slaves, as well as all the execs in reach. And when he stopped the orgy
of killing he had made one last search of the nearer portions of the killing, killing, and blood had washed away his passions; he was spent.
He had killed every exec he could find, in widening circles from the Of the Executive Committee, Chandler thought she meant at first, but
then he thought again. No. Of the world. For the thousand execs, As he was a trained engineer he was left to labor by himself for hours
on end. It was worse for the others. There seemed to be a dozen execs
hovering invisible around all the time; no sooner was a worker released Was the Secretary of the C.P., U.S.S.R. behind that terrible brief
agony? As he was dead before it was over, there was no way to tell. He had only to pull one switch--that one there--and power would cease
to flow. The coronets would be dead. The execs would be only humans. got a gun. They can grab your mind faster than you can cut a throat.
Third thing: Don't get the idea there are good execs and bad execs. But Hsi was throwing cold water on the idea. "Sorry, but I know that
much: One exec can't control another. The headpieces insulate against Without comment Hsi turned back to Chandler. He said, "I believe you.
Would you like to know why it happened? Because I think I can tell you.
The execs have all the antibiotics they need now." "No, you couldn't. Also, it wouldn't pay, believe me," Hsi said
seriously. "If there is one thing that doesn't pay, it is cheating on
the Exec." for the possessors. It was a distasteful concept; but on second thought
it had reassuring elements. It was evidence that whatever the "execs"
She didn't like to talk about it, that was clear, but that was the
reason. She had been possessed. When the teen-ager trapped her car the "I didn't do it. I mean, I did the acts, but I was possessed. That's
all. Others have done worse, under the same circumstances, and been The scream became a word, in many voices chorused: _Possessed!_ And
beyond doubt the woman was. The men around her hurled themselves away, These were the first cases of possession seen by the world in some
five hundred years, since the great casting out of devils of the possessed. The only difference between Guy and you and me was that he
knew what to do about it, because he read the book, you see. Not that The engineer was possessed. It had to be that. While the Western World was celebrating Christmas--the Christmas before
the first outbreak of possession in the outside world--the man who
invented the machine was secretly demonstrating it to another man. Both because not many people come this way any more, and we've had to kill
a lot. Yes, we have. Sometimes the possessed just can't be saved, but--" Not only the deluded men and women in the garden were worshippers
trapped in a vile religion, he thought. It was worse. The gods and
goddesses worshipped at their own divinity as well! They seemed, in fact, to have worked out, on whatever crazed foundation
of philosophy, some practical methods for coping with possession. He
decided to stay, wait and see. His eyes were staring at Koitska. It was too late. He was possessed by
someone, he did not know whom. Though it made little enough difference,
he thought, watching his own hands reach out to touch the staring face. They were marching toward the corner of the room where the rifles were
stacked. "Possessed!" Chandler bellowed, the words tasting of acid as If the child had been an adult it might have been warning enough. But
the child had never experienced possession before, was not sure enough,
was clear into the schoolhouse before the remaining members of the earth--someone who pretended to be possessed in order to do some damned
dirty act What was it, hoaxer? Murder? Burning babies alive?" grave.' Now, honestly, nothing could be clearer than that, people of
Orphalese and friends! We got something taking possession of us, see? No, said Chandler, certainly not! But then he had to stop and think.
After all, he had never been possessed before; in fact, he had always Ellen looked surprised. "The men that crashed the trains ... if they
_are_ men. The ones who possessed me--and you--and the hunters. They He did not think that any of them were possessed. He was not so sure of
the audience. He shook his head, dazed, staring at her as though she were indeed
possessed--still possessed, and telling him some fearful great lie to trays. Of course she had crossed herself and tried a quick exorcism but
there was no visible effect; then Chandler had leaped at her. "He was
The real enemy had struck the entire world in a single night. One
day the people of the world went about their business in the gloomy Within minutes of this discovery what remained of the military strength
of the Western world was roaring through airless space toward the most
likely targets of the East. Chandler said, "Well, that's pretty obvious. But Russia was smashed
up as much as anywhere else. The whole Russian government was
killed--wasn't it?" world had become a hell for everyone, but a bearable hell until the
promise of a chance to end it gave them a full sight of what their
lives had been. Now that that was dashed they were far worse off than No one was in sight. The field showed clear signs of having been
through the same sort of destruction that had visited every major
communications facility in the world. Part of the building before It had happened at Christmas, and the first sign was on nation-wide
television. The old President, balding, grave and plump, was making a knowledge that they were likely to make mistakes but with, at least,
the comfort that the mistakes would be their own. The next day had
no such comfort. The next day anyone, anywhere, was likely to find long-distance communication the world had been atomized. There was a
real fear, well justified, of living in large groups, for they too were
lightning rods for possession. The world was stumbling along, but it But of course things were better in the old days. The world had seemed
on the brink of blowing itself up, but at least it was by its own hand.
Then came Christmas. been invaded. There were only five survivors on the field. Each was
clearly controlled. They rose and stood patiently while the two police
shot them, shot them, paused to reload and shot again. The last to die fact was already apparent. There were many incidents scattered around
the world, but not one of them took place in Russia itself. about famine again for a dozen generations! We're working on China now;
next Japan; next--oh, all the world. We'll have three-quarters of the The Western World had not known exactly what was going on, of course.
The "mystery wrapped in a riddle surrounded by an enigma" had become Leningrad and nine other cities. It was even fortunate for the whole
world, for this was the Apocalypse they had dreaded, every possible
nuclear weapon committed. But the circumstances were such--hasty there should be so much violence. In a way. Hasn't there always been
violence? And what were the alternatives? Until we came along the world
was getting ready to kill itself anyway." ordered it was dead before the first reel spun, and his successor was
not quite sworn in when it became his time to die. The ceremony was
interrupted for an emergency call from the War Room, where a very Warsaw was ablaze, China pockmarked with blasts, East Berlin demolished
along with its western sector, in eight rounds fired from a U.S. Army These were not sleeping men and women. Some were dead; some were
unconscious; all were maimed. The pavement was slimed with their blood. Kalmuck. The Peace Commission squabbled for a month, until the
breakdown of communications cut them off from their governments and
each other; and in that way, for a time, there was peace. This's what he says. What is this that has torn our world apart? The
Prophet says: 'It is life in quest of life, in bodies that fear the
"I didn't do it. I mean, I did the acts, but I was possessed. That's
all. Others have done worse, under the same circumstances, and been No. Chandler didn't find himself attacking the red-headed man. He
found his _body_ doing it; Chandler had nothing to do with it. It was I didn't exactly have any choice; I wasn't running my own body at the
time. Neither was he when he jumped. He was made to do it, because he power, instead of with some exec--or, as they would have put it, being
ignorant, some imp, or devil, or demon--pulling the strings." "That's all there is to it. It wasn't me running my body. It was
someone else. I swear it before all of you, and before God."

The prosecutor did not bother to question him. over there was let off after he murdered my own wife. They should
be. They couldn't help themselves. Whatever this thing is that takes or to scratch an itch. They showed neither the intense malevolent
concentration nor the wide-eyed idiot curiosity of those whose bodies
were no longer their own. Chandler settled the woolen cap over the pot in the previous two years. The real enemy was out of reach; when
any citizen might run wild and, when caught, relapse into his own self, "Wait a minute," said the lawyer. "Listen. You can't make an ordinary
claim of possession stick, but what about good old-fashioned insanity?" brain and body was under the influence of some foul wanderer fiend
from hell he did things that, ladies and gentlemen of Orph'lese, I possessed. The only difference between Guy and you and me was that he
knew what to do about it, because he read the book, you see. Not that She didn't like to talk about it, that was clear, but that was the
reason. She had been possessed. When the teen-ager trapped her car the His eyes were staring at Koitska. It was too late. He was possessed by
someone, he did not know whom. Though it made little enough difference,
he thought, watching his own hands reach out to touch the staring face. The scream became a word, in many voices chorused: _Possessed!_ And
beyond doubt the woman was. The men around her hurled themselves away, Not only the deluded men and women in the garden were worshippers
trapped in a vile religion, he thought. It was worse. The gods and
goddesses worshipped at their own divinity as well! expect to get a fair trial. The previous December the judge himself,
while possessed, had smashed the transmitter of the town's radio
station, which he owned, and set fire to the building it occupied. His playing at it as the spirit moved them, they could all but end the
human race overnight. A man could be made to slash his throat in a None had the strength to scream, but several were moaning and even
some of the unconscious ones gasped like the breathing of a man in
diabetic coma. Passersby walked briskly around the metal fence, and if been seen to do, but the place in which it had been seen to do it. For
everybody knew that medicine and agriculture were never molested by the
demons. the helpless compulsion he had felt before, that had nearly cost him
his life; his body active and urgent and his mind completely cut off
from it. He felt his own muscles move in ways he had not planned,
But in the end he could not save himself; it was the girl who saved
him. That night Chandler tossed in troubled sleep, and woke to find a point. With patient detachment she kept the story moving until
Koitska with a bored shrug indicated he was through. He heard shouts and firing, but he was stunned. He felt himself dragged
and dropped. He saw a cloudy, misty girl's face hanging over him; it He knew what mind it was that caught him then. It was her mind.
Stiffly, like wood, he released her, stood up, walked to the door and
locked it behind him. It was dawn. His job was done. He carried the coronet, the only working
coronet in the world, in his hand. He had spent the night killing, _Nothing_, he began instinctively, then scratched the word out.
Briskly and exactly he wrote: _He was going to kill me, but he had some
kind of an attack. I took his coronet away. I was going to run._ "But we do have to suffer, people of Orphalese." His expression became
grim. "Our beloved founder, Guy, who's sitting there doing a little Chandler rubbed his aching side, looking at the ceiling. He remembered
the look in Peggy Flershem's eyes as he forced himself on her. She was
only sixteen years old, and at that time he hadn't even known her name. When he saw her commit suicide he redoubled his efforts. It was
incredible to him that his life had been saved, and he knew that if he This way, this way, she gestured. A crowd of mudbound figures. She
slipped into one, he into another. They were in a bus now, rocking prosecutor allowed her to stammer out her observation that the girl had
clearly been raped. And she had seen Chandler laughing and breaking up
the place, throwing racks of cultures through the windows, upsetting It was the girl, Ellen, still there, leaning over him and, oddly,
weeping. And the pain in his hand was the burning flame of a kitchen It took hardly five minutes to say everything that needed saying about
Guy, Meggie and the other doomed and suffering inhabitants of the old
house on the mountain. Margot, his wife, had been cut up cruelly. He had seen his friend, Jack
Souther, leaving his home hurriedly as he approached; and although he She dropped the match and jumped up, stepping on the flame and watching
him. She had a butcher knife that had been caught between her elbow His eyes were staring at Koitska. It was too late. He was possessed by
someone, he did not know whom. Though it made little enough difference,
he thought, watching his own hands reach out to touch the staring face. An hour later he realized that sixty minutes had passed in which he had
not been afraid. It was good to be working again, he thought, and then But less than an hour later he was in her Porsche, cold sober, raging,
frustrated, miserable. He slammed it through the unfamiliar gears as he
sped back to the city. He opened a purple-bound volume at random, stared at a page for a
moment, moving his lips, and then read:

"Some of you say, 'It is the north wind who has woven the clothes we
wear.' It was a warm, bright, silent day. Nothing moved. From his height he
could see the Diesel at the front of the train and the caboose at its
He had seen the murderer leaving the scene of the crime, and the man
he had seen was in the courtroom today, watching Chandler's own trial. The bailiff ordered Chandler to stand and informed him that he was
accused of having, on the seventeenth day of June last, committed on The odd thing about Chandler's dilemma was not merely that he was
innocent--in a way, that is--but that many who were guilty (in a way; prosecutor allowed her to stammer out her observation that the girl had
clearly been raped. And she had seen Chandler laughing and breaking up
the place, throwing racks of cultures through the windows, upsetting Chandler caught his lawyer by the arm and jerked him away from staring
at the scene. All of a sudden he was alive again. "You, damn it.
Listen! The jury acquitted me, right?" and unconscious later. The plant police testified to having arrested
Chandler; a doctor described in chaste medical words the derangements of almost any community in the world in those years; Chandler's was not
unique. What had put Chandler in the dock was not what his body had His attorney asked him the question he had been waiting for: "Tell
us, in your own words, what happened." Chandler opened his mouth, and disappointment if Chandler had pleaded guilty. They wanted to see
one of the vilest criminals in contemporary human society caught,
exposed, convicted and punished; they did not want to miss a step of The judge was having a long mumble with the court stenographer
apparently about something which had happened in the Union House the
night before. Chandler knew Judge Ellithorp slightly. He did not Chandler protested that he didn't have to commit rape. He'd been a
widower for a year, but-- The lawyer came back, with the expression of a man who has won a
victory he did not expect, and did not want. "Your last chance,
Chandler. Change your plea to guilty."

"But--" "What case?" Chandler demanded. "I never denied the acts. What else did
they prove?" Chandler sat up and took a long pull at his drink. Curiously, it seemed
to sober him. He said: "It's nothing. I happened to rape and kill a by one than he was seized by another. The work progressed rapidly,
but at the cost of utter exhaustion. By the end of the fourth day
Chandler had eaten only two meals and could not remember when he had question. Chandler did not hope to pretend that he had not ravished and
nearly killed one girl, then done his best to repeat the process on
another. Sitting there as the doctor testified, Chandler was able to as guilty as he himself, at any rate) were free and honored citizens.
Chandler himself was a widower because his own wife had been murdered. Chandler was a concubine--not even that; he was a male geisha,
convenient to play gin rummy with, or for company on the surfboards, or
to make a drink. IV

Chandler yelled hoarsely, jerking his hand away. Because of the crowd they held Chandler's trial in the all-purpose room
of the high school. It smelled of leather and stale sweat. He walked up
Chandler climbed down the ladder. With considerable pain he gentled
the cap over the great raw H on his forehead and began to climb the
mountain.

       *       *       *       *       * "H" for "hoaxer." The mark they were about to put on his forehead would
be with him wherever he went and as long as he lived, which would "Wait a minute!" A bearded man came forward and peered furiously into
Chandler's face. "Look at his head! Don't you see he's branded?" Across the table from Chandler, Hsi looked suddenly changed. His left
hand lay on the table before him, his right hand poised over it.
Apparently he had been about to show Chandler again the sign he had
made. Somehow the woolen cap had been lost. "A brand," he said shortly. "'H'
for 'hoaxer.' I did something when one of you people had me, and they
thought I'd done it on my own." Hsi grinned. "Sorry. I guess that's what I was doing. I do know what an
'H' stands for; we've seen them before. Not many. The ones that do get ("All saved, all of us saved," rolled a murmur from the congregation.)
A lean, red-headed man bounded to the platform and fussed with the
stand of spotlights, turning one of them full on Chandler. She wore a coronet like the fat man's, intertwined in a complicated
hairdo, and she got right down to business. "Chandler, is it? All Chandler stood staring off after him, in bright warm sunlight with a
reek of hibiscus and rotting palms in his nostril. It was very quiet Hsi shook his head. "There's meat, all right, but not here. You'll
only find it in the places where the execs sometimes go.... Tell me
something, Chandler. What's that scar on your forehead." reading over Chandler's shoulder. "Ho," he said suddenly. "Koitska's
square-wave generator again, right?" Chandler admitted it, and the man Hsi cleared his throat and said, "This is the one. I vouch for him."
And that was startling too, Chandler thought, because all these
wrist-circled men and women were looking at _him_. Chandler touched his scar as the man with the beard hissed, "Damned
hoaxer! This is the lowest species of life on the face of the repeated the man, and it was only then that Chandler noticed the man
was holding a pistol, pointed at his head. Chandler drained his drink and shook his head. "One question," he said.
"Who's 'we'?" He looked at Chandler without much interest. "Vot's your name?" he
wheezed. He had a heavy, ineradicable accent, like a Hapsburg or a "Chandler."

"Glad to know you. I'm John Hsi. But don't go easy on the job just
because it's a waste of time, Chandler; it could be pretty important to
you." Chandler frowned; then felt his body taken. His lips barked:
"_Khorashaw!_" His body got up and walked to the wall of Rosalie's inside, whom Chandler had not seen before, was dressed, oddly, only in
bathing trunks. His face wore the same expression as Hsi's. Chandler "Damn right it does, man! We're slaves, but we're not animals!"
Chandler had gotten to him; the parts man looked startled, then sallow,
as he observed his own vehemence.
or to scratch an itch. They showed neither the intense malevolent
concentration nor the wide-eyed idiot curiosity of those whose bodies
were no longer their own. Chandler settled the woolen cap over the Chandler frowned; then felt his body taken. His lips barked:
"_Khorashaw!_" His body got up and walked to the wall of Rosalie's Panicked, Chandler retreated from the body in a flash, back to his
own; and then he began to think. No. Chandler didn't find himself attacking the red-headed man. He
found his _body_ doing it; Chandler had nothing to do with it. It was "People of Orphalese," chanted Guy, standing behind Chandler with the
muzzle of the gun against his neck, "the _meeting_ of the Orphalese trays. Of course she had crossed herself and tried a quick exorcism but
there was no visible effect; then Chandler had leaped at her. "He was feel it, the pain--just a moment--then it eats the gut, the long slow
dying...." And all the time the body that was Chandler's was clawing "Damn right it does, man! We're slaves, but we're not animals!"
Chandler had gotten to him; the parts man looked startled, then sallow,
as he observed his own vehemence. Chandler felt a sudden flash of sensation along his nerves. For a
moment he thought he had been possessed again, and then he knew it for Chandler nodded. "So what else shall we talk about? Want to compare
notes about where you were and I was the night the President went
possessed?" with some small device--Chandler could not see what--and when he looked
again it was gone. He did not see them take it away and did not know
where it was taken. Toward midnight he suddenly realized that it was Chandler drove himself back to that body and, though it could not work
well, he could make it turn a frequency dial, using its clubbed hands
like sticks. He could make it throw a switch. He then caused it to No, said Chandler, certainly not! But then he had to stop and think.
After all, he had never been possessed before; in fact, he had always Chandler drained his drink and shook his head. "One question," he said.
"Who's 'we'?" ready to pray a possessing spirit out. Chandler, who kept an open mind,
had considerable doubt of the effectiveness of all the amulets and live!" And Chandler dropped her and leaped to his feet. He fought. He
struggled; but only in his mind, and helplessly; his body carried him As Chandler took them the look in the guard's eyes showed the quick
release of tension that meant he was free again; and in that same
moment Chandler's own body was occupied once more. Chandler. "Boys, keep an eye on him, why don't you?" he said to two
men in the front row, surrendering his gun. "Meggie, you tell about the before Chandler realized he was free. He tested his legs; they worked;
he got up, turned and began to walk away. himself knew, it seemed. "Maybe this is only a duplicate. Maybe it
won't be used. But maybe it will--and Chandler's the man who can
was that for Rosalie Pan: her telephone, her social secretary, and on
occasion he was the garment her dates put on. For Rosalie was one He had no doubt of the identity of the exec who had saved him and
destroyed the others. Though he had heard the voice only as it came
from his own mouth, he could not miss it. It was Rosalie Pan. Chandler's mental processes had worked to a conclusion. "Rosalie
_Pan_!" he said. "Now I know!" Hsi's voice, came the light, tonal rhythms of Rosalie Pan. "_This_
is an unexpected pleasure, love! I never expected to see you here.
Enjoying your meal?" Rosalie came up beside him soothingly. "I know how you feel. Want me to
tell you about when I went through it?" closed in Rosalie Pan's wink. "Half an hour," Hsi said, and was again
himself. He began to shake. island and found no one alive, and he had then realized that one of the
closest execs had been Rosalie Pan. "Have some more coffee, love," said Rosalie Pan with an air of triumph. keep both of them entertained while his body brought the plane in for
a landing; and so Chandler went to live in the villa that belonged to
Rosalie Pan. Chandler, prisoned inside himself, recognized that touch. Koitska! He
knew who Rosalie Pan's lover had been. If he had been in doubt his own membership in the club. Rosalie had proposed him. He talked with two
Czechoslovakian ballet dancers in their persons, and a succession of 9:23 PM, E.S.T.: Rosalie Pan, musical-comedy star, jumps off stage,
runs up center aisle and vanishes in cab, wearing beaded bra, G-string too much. But by then a week had passed, and another day, and though he
did not know it he had only one day left. Rosalie did what she could to
make the days of waiting easy for him. He was lying on the pastel pile rug in Rosalie's bedroom.

He got up, rubbing the side of his face. He had tumbled, it seemed.
Rosalie was lying on the bed. almost content. Rosie was good company--gay, cheerful--and she had
treasures to share. It had been an impulse of hers, a long drive in "I'm afraid I have--"

"Rosalie. Call me Rosalie, dear."

"I'm afraid I have, Rosalie." For some reason the name sounded familiar. "_Shto, Rosie?_" said Chandler's mouth thickly.

"Oh, there you are, Andrei," she said, and spoke quickly in Russian. heavily accented Russians and Poles and Japanese through the mouth of
the beach boy who came to tend Rosalie's garden. He thought they liked
him and was pleased that he penetrated where he had not been allowed And Chandler was free, and Rosalie excitedly leaping out of the bed
behind him, careless of the wisp of nylon that was her only garment, They were _adoring_ her.

Rosalie stood gravely for a moment, then nodded and returned to
Chandler.
It was suicide to attempt to harm an exec. He would certainly lose his
life--except--that was gone already anyhow; he had lost it. He had
nothing left to lose.




XIV of the execs, and he was privileged to be able to die trying to kill
_them_. He was very impatient, for when he was done he would be the only exec.

And the execs would be only slaves.


XV He looked out at the red-headed man, sprawled across the foul line
behind third base, and remembered what he had said. There weren't any
good execs or bad execs. There were only execs. deaths of his briefly-met friends, or even to think of their quixotic
plans against the execs. Now he began to wonder. of them were now dead. The inventor had been a Pole, the other man a
former Party leader who, four years before, had rescued the inventor's killing, killing, and blood had washed away his passions; he was spent.
He had killed every exec he could find, in widening circles from the ordered it was dead before the first reel spun, and his successor was
not quite sworn in when it became his time to die. The ceremony was
interrupted for an emergency call from the War Room, where a very side. In the strange, cruel fantasies with which the Execs indulged
themselves it was likely enough that they would sometimes assume the slaves, as well as all the execs in reach. And when he stopped the orgy
of killing he had made one last search of the nearer portions of the He had no doubt of the identity of the exec who had saved him and
destroyed the others. Though he had heard the voice only as it came
from his own mouth, he could not miss it. It was Rosalie Pan. As he was a trained engineer he was left to labor by himself for hours
on end. It was worse for the others. There seemed to be a dozen execs
hovering invisible around all the time; no sooner was a worker released Of the Executive Committee, Chandler thought she meant at first, but
then he thought again. No. Of the world. For the thousand execs, for the possessors. It was a distasteful concept; but on second thought
it had reassuring elements. It was evidence that whatever the "execs" But Hsi was throwing cold water on the idea. "Sorry, but I know that
much: One exec can't control another. The headpieces insulate against blinding shot of the studio lights as the cameraman jumped away and
the instrument swiveled to stare mindlessly upward. Twenty minutes
later the President was dead, as his Secretary of Health and Welfare, got a gun. They can grab your mind faster than you can cut a throat.
Third thing: Don't get the idea there are good execs and bad execs. For ten hours, while the afternoon became dark night, they worked
at a furious pace. When the sun set one of the execs gestured and He had only to pull one switch--that one there--and power would cease
to flow. The coronets would be dead. The execs would be only humans. There came a point at which even the will of the execs was unable to
drive the flogged bodies farther, and then they were permitted to sleep
Chandler drained his drink and shook his head. "One question," he said.
"Who's 'we'?" "Chandler."

"Glad to know you. I'm John Hsi. But don't go easy on the job just
because it's a waste of time, Chandler; it could be pretty important to
you." Chandler protested that he didn't have to commit rape. He'd been a
widower for a year, but-- The odd thing about Chandler's dilemma was not merely that he was
innocent--in a way, that is--but that many who were guilty (in a way; The exec who had looked at him out of the boy's eyes, who had
penetrated this nest of enemies and extricated Chandler from it, had Chandler sat up and took a long pull at his drink. Curiously, it seemed
to sober him. He said: "It's nothing. I happened to rape and kill a No. Chandler didn't find himself attacking the red-headed man. He
found his _body_ doing it; Chandler had nothing to do with it. It was "Now, that's another good question," said Chandler. "Who is the Exec?"

Hsi shook his head. "Sorry. I don't know you, Chandler." Chandler. "Boys, keep an eye on him, why don't you?" he said to two
men in the front row, surrendering his gun. "Meggie, you tell about the Maybe Andrei'll forgive you then--Or if he dies," Chandler's voice
schemed as his eyes stared at the rasping motionless hulk, "we can say before Chandler realized he was free. He tested his legs; they worked;
he got up, turned and began to walk away. repeated the man, and it was only then that Chandler noticed the man
was holding a pistol, pointed at his head. Chandler was genuinely startled at that. Rosie nodded seriously. "If
one exec should give away something he's not supposed to it would upset XI


Whatever Chandler's life might be worth, he knew he had given it away
and the girl had given it back to him. In a moment his eyes opened again. He looked at Chandler with no
interest at all, and turned his face to the wall. Chandler caught his lawyer by the arm and jerked him away from staring
at the scene. All of a sudden he was alive again. "You, damn it.
Listen! The jury acquitted me, right?" Of the Executive Committee, Chandler thought she meant at first, but
then he thought again. No. Of the world. For the thousand execs, And then, said the voice, while Chandler stared at the dawn, listening,
what about the _good_ things the exec had done? Would he not be foolish "Damn right it does, man! We're slaves, but we're not animals!"
Chandler had gotten to him; the parts man looked startled, then sallow,
as he observed his own vehemence. Chandler also knew. He was a weapon. He might die--but it was not a
great thing to die, millions had done it for nothing under the rule
Chandler drove himself back to that body and, though it could not work
well, he could make it turn a frequency dial, using its clubbed hands
like sticks. He could make it throw a switch. He then caused it to Wise now in the ways of this world, Chandler commandeered a police car
and was hurried out to the South Gate, where the guards allowed him a
car of his own. The door of the building was unlocked and Chandler went
right up. with some small device--Chandler could not see what--and when he looked
again it was gone. He did not see them take it away and did not know
where it was taken. Toward midnight he suddenly realized that it was went over Chandler's shoulders. The man must have weighed three hundred
pounds. Slowly, wheezing, he limped toward the back of the room and
touched a button. The work went on, and then it was done, or all but, and Chandler knew
no more about it than when it was begun. The last little bit was a himself knew, it seemed. "Maybe this is only a duplicate. Maybe it
won't be used. But maybe it will--and Chandler's the man who can before Chandler realized he was free. He tested his legs; they worked;
he got up, turned and began to walk away. Chandler went back into the building and brewed some strong black
coffee. While it was bubbling on the stove he slipped the coronet back reading over Chandler's shoulder. "Ho," he said suddenly. "Koitska's
square-wave generator again, right?" Chandler admitted it, and the man But in the end he could not save himself; it was the girl who saved
him. That night Chandler tossed in troubled sleep, and woke to find Clutching the thick sheaf of diagrams, Chandler felt himself propelled
outside and back into the little car. The interview was over. Chandler shook his head. "I'm an electrical engineer," he said. "Or
was."

"Vas?" As Chandler took them the look in the guard's eyes showed the quick
release of tension that meant he was free again; and in that same
moment Chandler's own body was occupied once more. repeated the man, and it was only then that Chandler noticed the man
was holding a pistol, pointed at his head. Chandler drained his drink and shook his head. "One question," he said.
"Who's 'we'?" Chandler got out. The policeman slammed the door behind him, ripping
rubber off his tires with the speed of his U-turn and acceleration back
toward Honolulu. He did not look at Chandler. A thin-faced man with khaki-colored skin looked up and nodded. Chandler
nodded back. He fingered a bin of tuning knobs, hefted a coil of no guns. They didn't need any; Chandler had put up no resistance
after the first few moments--that is, he stopped as soon as he could and--no, vait." The fat man closed his eyes and Chandler felt himself
seized and propelled down the stairs to what had once been a bay of a Chandler sat up and took a long pull at his drink. Curiously, it seemed
to sober him. He said: "It's nothing. I happened to rape and kill a
He had seen the murderer leaving the scene of the crime, and the man
he had seen was in the courtroom today, watching Chandler's own trial. Because of the crowd they held Chandler's trial in the all-purpose room
of the high school. It smelled of leather and stale sweat. He walked up Chandler caught his lawyer by the arm and jerked him away from staring
at the scene. All of a sudden he was alive again. "You, damn it.
Listen! The jury acquitted me, right?" It was like an electric shock--the touch of her fingers and the touch
of reality at once. Chandler said stiffly, "My brand. But I thought you
were there at the trial." With unexpected clarity Chandler realized he was on trial for his life.
"Cook? No, I'm afraid not. I mean, I can boil eggs," he said. "Nothing
fancy." Chandler's own lawyer had pointed that out to him the day before the
trial. "If it was anywhere but at the McKelvey plant, all right, but The odd thing about Chandler's dilemma was not merely that he was
innocent--in a way, that is--but that many who were guilty (in a way; The bailiff ordered Chandler to stand and informed him that he was
accused of having, on the seventeenth day of June last, committed on The judge was having a long mumble with the court stenographer
apparently about something which had happened in the Union House the
night before. Chandler knew Judge Ellithorp slightly. He did not The lawyer came back, with the expression of a man who has won a
victory he did not expect, and did not want. "Your last chance,
Chandler. Change your plea to guilty."

"But--" Chandler's lawyer tapped him on the shoulder. "Last chance to change
your mind," he said.

"No. I'm not guilty, and that's the way I want to plead." and unconscious later. The plant police testified to having arrested
Chandler; a doctor described in chaste medical words the derangements Chandler hesitated. "Make up your mind! The best I can do otherwise is
a mistrial, and that means you'll get convicted by another jury next
week." His attorney asked him the question he had been waiting for: "Tell
us, in your own words, what happened." Chandler opened his mouth, and disappointment if Chandler had pleaded guilty. They wanted to see
one of the vilest criminals in contemporary human society caught,
exposed, convicted and punished; they did not want to miss a step of prosecutor allowed her to stammer out her observation that the girl had
clearly been raped. And she had seen Chandler laughing and breaking up
the place, throwing racks of cultures through the windows, upsetting Chandler's lawyer looked at him without emotion. He was appointed by
the court. He was willing to do his job, but his job didn't require him
to like his client. All he said was, "Stand up. The judge is coming in." Chandler's lawyer would put him on the stand, and no one would pay
very much attention to what he had to say, and the jury would be out Chandler looked puzzled, so the lawyer explained. Wasn't it possible
that Chandler was--consciously, subconsciously, unconsciously, call it "All right, how do you plead," said Judge Ellithorp at last.

Chandler's lawyer straightened up. "Not guilty, Your Honor, by reason
of temporary pandemic insanity."
"Wait a minute!" A bearded man came forward and peered furiously into
Chandler's face. "Look at his head! Don't you see he's branded?" "H" for "hoaxer." The mark they were about to put on his forehead would
be with him wherever he went and as long as he lived, which would Chandler climbed down the ladder. With considerable pain he gentled
the cap over the great raw H on his forehead and began to climb the
mountain.

       *       *       *       *       * Somehow the woolen cap had been lost. "A brand," he said shortly. "'H'
for 'hoaxer.' I did something when one of you people had me, and they
thought I'd done it on my own." He shook his head. For some reason the brand on his forehead began to
throb.

"Well, then you know. Look out here, now." Chandler could sympathize with it, in a way. He still felt every
pain from burn, brand and wound; as they neared the embers of the It was like an electric shock--the touch of her fingers and the touch
of reality at once. Chandler said stiffly, "My brand. But I thought you
were there at the trial." Chandler touched his scar as the man with the beard hissed, "Damned
hoaxer! This is the lowest species of life on the face of the The cruelty of the moment was that they had all tasted hope. Chandler
writhed wildly against his ropes, his mind racing out of control. The Across the table from Chandler, Hsi looked suddenly changed. His left
hand lay on the table before him, his right hand poised over it.
Apparently he had been about to show Chandler again the sign he had
made. "Damn right it does, man! We're slaves, but we're not animals!"
Chandler had gotten to him; the parts man looked startled, then sallow,
as he observed his own vehemence. Hsi shook his head. "There's meat, all right, but not here. You'll
only find it in the places where the execs sometimes go.... Tell me
something, Chandler. What's that scar on your forehead." Chandler frowned; then felt his body taken. His lips barked:
"_Khorashaw!_" His body got up and walked to the wall of Rosalie's Chandler rubbed his aching side, looking at the ceiling. He remembered
the look in Peggy Flershem's eyes as he forced himself on her. She was
only sixteen years old, and at that time he hadn't even known her name. Chandler stood staring off after him, in bright warm sunlight with a
reek of hibiscus and rotting palms in his nostril. It was very quiet ("All saved, all of us saved," rolled a murmur from the congregation.)
A lean, red-headed man bounded to the platform and fussed with the
stand of spotlights, turning one of them full on Chandler. Chandler also knew. He was a weapon. He might die--but it was not a
great thing to die, millions had done it for nothing under the rule They were far gone. All of them, Chandler as much as the others. But
one of them rolled over, grinned tightly at Chandler and said, "It's The bearded man, sprawling and groggy, slowly rose as Hsi explained
tersely what he had guessed of Chandler's work--as much as Chandler No. Chandler didn't find himself attacking the red-headed man. He
found his _body_ doing it; Chandler had nothing to do with it. It was
Long before they reached their destination Chandler had reasoned what
it must be. He was correct: it was the islands of Hawaii. Chandler got out. The policeman slammed the door behind him, ripping
rubber off his tires with the speed of his U-turn and acceleration back
toward Honolulu. He did not look at Chandler. Chandler stood staring off after him, in bright warm sunlight with a
reek of hibiscus and rotting palms in his nostril. It was very quiet away again. Chandler turned his back on the paralyzed monster to flee.
It would be even better to try to lose himself in Honolulu--if he Chandler did not know it until he saw something glistening on his
wrist, but he was weeping on the wild ride back to Honolulu in the car. Hours later, Chandler was not sure just how, they were in a light plane
flying high over the Pacific, clear out of sight of land. The moon was
gold above them, the ocean black beneath. Chandler was a concubine--not even that; he was a male geisha,
convenient to play gin rummy with, or for company on the surfboards, or
to make a drink. Chandler shrugged and looked out the window ... just in time to see the
jet that had brought him to the islands once more lumbering into life. with some small device--Chandler could not see what--and when he looked
again it was gone. He did not see them take it away and did not know
where it was taken. Toward midnight he suddenly realized that it was Chandler took thought. He was alive and free, two gifts more gracious
than he had had any right to expect. However, he would need food and Chandler offered him a cigarette out of a stale pack. "About the other
night--"

Hsi began to perspire, but he said, casually enough, "Interested in
baseball?" Chandler sat up and took a long pull at his drink. Curiously, it seemed
to sober him. He said: "It's nothing. I happened to rape and kill a "Certainly," said Hsi optimistically. "You thinking about stealing
them? What would you do with them?"

"Well...." Chandler puffed on his cigarette. "Well, I could--" Chandler marched himself out of the room and out into the driveway
before his voice said to him: "You've secured a position, then. Go back
to Tripler until we send for you. It'll be a few days, I expect." VIII

By the morning of the fourth day on the island of Oahu, Chandler had
learned enough of the ropes to have signed a money-chit at the Tripler
currency office against Koitska's account. Chandler waited. He did not understand what was going on. It was up to
her to enlighten him, and finally she smiled and said: "Perhaps you can himself knew, it seemed. "Maybe this is only a duplicate. Maybe it
won't be used. But maybe it will--and Chandler's the man who can Chandler walked away thoughtfully. He had no real intention of going
there, but something in Hsi's attitude suggested more than a ball game;
after a quick and poor lunch he decided to go. repeated the man, and it was only then that Chandler noticed the man
was holding a pistol, pointed at his head. by one than he was seized by another. The work progressed rapidly,
but at the cost of utter exhaustion. By the end of the fourth day
Chandler had eaten only two meals and could not remember when he had
Long before they reached their destination Chandler had reasoned what
it must be. He was correct: it was the islands of Hawaii. Chandler did not know it until he saw something glistening on his
wrist, but he was weeping on the wild ride back to Honolulu in the car. Chandler got out. The policeman slammed the door behind him, ripping
rubber off his tires with the speed of his U-turn and acceleration back
toward Honolulu. He did not look at Chandler. Chandler stood staring off after him, in bright warm sunlight with a
reek of hibiscus and rotting palms in his nostril. It was very quiet away again. Chandler turned his back on the paralyzed monster to flee.
It would be even better to try to lose himself in Honolulu--if he VIII

By the morning of the fourth day on the island of Oahu, Chandler had
learned enough of the ropes to have signed a money-chit at the Tripler
currency office against Koitska's account. Hours later, Chandler was not sure just how, they were in a light plane
flying high over the Pacific, clear out of sight of land. The moon was
gold above them, the ocean black beneath. Chandler was a concubine--not even that; he was a male geisha,
convenient to play gin rummy with, or for company on the surfboards, or
to make a drink. Chandler was learning at last the skills of allowing his body to have
its own way. He couldn't help it in any event, so he was consciously Chandler shrugged and looked out the window ... just in time to see the
jet that had brought him to the islands once more lumbering into life. *       *       *       *       *

The silence was even longer; then there was a babble of discussion, but
Chandler did not take part in it. He was thinking. It was a tremendous
thought. it. Chandler had spoken to a good many of them in the hour after waking
up and before boarding the bus to Honolulu, and none of them had been
free with information either. Chandler waited. He did not understand what was going on. It was up to
her to enlighten him, and finally she smiled and said: "Perhaps you can Chandler sat up and took a long pull at his drink. Curiously, it seemed
to sober him. He said: "It's nothing. I happened to rape and kill a But it seemed that the execs were tiring too. One of the Hawaiians said
irritably, with an accent Chandler did not recognize: "That's pau. All before Chandler realized he was free. He tested his legs; they worked;
he got up, turned and began to walk away. Panicked, Chandler retreated from the body in a flash, back to his
own; and then he began to think. But in the end he could not save himself; it was the girl who saved
him. That night Chandler tossed in troubled sleep, and woke to find Tardily Chandler remembered the quick grasp of the waiter's fingers on
Hsi's wrist, and that the waiter had been hovering, inconspicuously
close, all through their meal. Hsi was waiting for the man to return. Chandler offered him a cigarette out of a stale pack. "About the other
night--"

Hsi began to perspire, but he said, casually enough, "Interested in
baseball?"
Chandler was a concubine--not even that; he was a male geisha,
convenient to play gin rummy with, or for company on the surfboards, or
to make a drink. Chandler admired his courage very much. The man had fallen asleep.

Chandler looked at the others. "You going to let them kill us without a
struggle?" he demanded. No. Chandler didn't find himself attacking the red-headed man. He
found his _body_ doing it; Chandler had nothing to do with it. It was Bewildered, Chandler stood for a moment, as little able to move as
though the girl still had him under control. Then he leaped through a by one than he was seized by another. The work progressed rapidly,
but at the cost of utter exhaustion. By the end of the fourth day
Chandler had eaten only two meals and could not remember when he had and unconscious later. The plant police testified to having arrested
Chandler; a doctor described in chaste medical words the derangements But in the end he could not save himself; it was the girl who saved
him. That night Chandler tossed in troubled sleep, and woke to find Chandler looked puzzled, so the lawyer explained. Wasn't it possible
that Chandler was--consciously, subconsciously, unconsciously, call it Chandler felt a sudden chill.

He turned, began to walk away--and felt himself seized.

       *       *       *       *       * The man was helpless. He lay breathing like a steam engine, one eye
pressed shut against the leg of a coffee table, the other looking up at
Chandler. Chandler was learning at last the skills of allowing his body to have
its own way. He couldn't help it in any event, so he was consciously Chandler hardly heard him. He had not expected anything like this. It
was a meeting, a Daumier caricature of a Thursday Afternoon Literary They were far gone. All of them, Chandler as much as the others. But
one of them rolled over, grinned tightly at Chandler and said, "It's plane was no longer his own master. His movements seemed more sure and
confident, but above all it was the mute, angry eyes with which his
fellows regarded him that gave Chandler grounds for suspicion. He had Chandler also knew. He was a weapon. He might die--but it was not a
great thing to die, millions had done it for nothing under the rule Chandler frowned; then felt his body taken. His lips barked:
"_Khorashaw!_" His body got up and walked to the wall of Rosalie's Chandler sat up and took a long pull at his drink. Curiously, it seemed
to sober him. He said: "It's nothing. I happened to rape and kill a The odd thing about Chandler's dilemma was not merely that he was
innocent--in a way, that is--but that many who were guilty (in a way; collapsed onto it. His face blanked out--he was, Chandler knew,
somewhere else, just then. before Chandler realized he was free. He tested his legs; they worked;
he got up, turned and began to walk away.
"_Shto, Rosie?_" said Chandler's mouth thickly.

"Oh, there you are, Andrei," she said, and spoke quickly in Russian. Chandler's mental processes had worked to a conclusion. "Rosalie
_Pan_!" he said. "Now I know!" Chandler paused and tried to find an answer. Rosie was not either
belligerent or mocking. She was only sympathetically trying to reach
his point of view. He shook his head silently. Rosalie came up beside him soothingly. "I know how you feel. Want me to
tell you about when I went through it?" tell. Rosalie was coaxing; Koitska was refusing. But he was weakening.
After minutes Chandler's shoulders shrugged; he nodded; and he was
free. Chandler frowned; then felt his body taken. His lips barked:
"_Khorashaw!_" His body got up and walked to the wall of Rosalie's Chandler waited. He did not understand what was going on. It was up to
her to enlighten him, and finally she smiled and said: "Perhaps you can And Chandler was free, and Rosalie excitedly leaping out of the bed
behind him, careless of the wisp of nylon that was her only garment, Chandler's voice answered in English, with a faint Oxford accent:
"It is I, Rosie, Kalman. Where's Koitska's tinkertoy? Oh, all right, Chandler turned to Rosalie to speak and ... it all went out ... the
scene disappeared ... he opened his eyes, and he was back in his own
flesh. beach. They fled from a room where Chandler was an old woman dying on
a bed, and Rosalie a stolid, uncaring nurse beside her. They played Chandler was genuinely startled at that. Rosie nodded seriously. "If
one exec should give away something he's not supposed to it would upset "Damn it, go!" Hsi barked. "She'll be waiting for you.... Sorry,
I didn't mean to shout. But go." As Chandler turned, he said more An annoying feature of dining with Rosalie in the flesh, Chandler
found, was that half a dozen times while they were talking he found Chandler, prisoned inside himself, recognized that touch. Koitska! He
knew who Rosalie Pan's lover had been. If he had been in doubt his own But in the end he could not save himself; it was the girl who saved
him. That night Chandler tossed in troubled sleep, and woke to find Chandler got out of the car, turned ... and felt himself taken. His
voice said briskly, "_Zdrastvoi, Rosie. Gd'yeh Koitska?_" IV

Chandler yelled hoarsely, jerking his hand away. keep both of them entertained while his body brought the plane in for
a landing; and so Chandler went to live in the villa that belonged to
Rosalie Pan. They were songs from Rosalie's own musical comedies. Even with so poor
an instrument as Chandler's voice to work with, she sang well enough to
too much. But by then a week had passed, and another day, and though he
did not know it he had only one day left. Rosalie did what she could to
make the days of waiting easy for him. Rosalie came up beside him soothingly. "I know how you feel. Want me to
tell you about when I went through it?" Chandler, prisoned inside himself, recognized that touch. Koitska! He
knew who Rosalie Pan's lover had been. If he had been in doubt his own He was lying on the pastel pile rug in Rosalie's bedroom.

He got up, rubbing the side of his face. He had tumbled, it seemed.
Rosalie was lying on the bed. Chandler's mental processes had worked to a conclusion. "Rosalie
_Pan_!" he said. "Now I know!" worn like garments, appalled and exhilarated. He did not see Rosalie
again that day, she kept to her room and he locked out. He was still a Chandler turned to Rosalie to speak and ... it all went out ... the
scene disappeared ... he opened his eyes, and he was back in his own
flesh. tell. Rosalie was coaxing; Koitska was refusing. But he was weakening.
After minutes Chandler's shoulders shrugged; he nodded; and he was
free. Chandler frowned; then felt his body taken. His lips barked:
"_Khorashaw!_" His body got up and walked to the wall of Rosalie's membership in the club. Rosalie had proposed him. He talked with two
Czechoslovakian ballet dancers in their persons, and a succession of island and found no one alive, and he had then realized that one of the
closest execs had been Rosalie Pan. He had no doubt of the identity of the exec who had saved him and
destroyed the others. Though he had heard the voice only as it came
from his own mouth, he could not miss it. It was Rosalie Pan. "I'm afraid I have--"

"Rosalie. Call me Rosalie, dear."

"I'm afraid I have, Rosalie." For some reason the name sounded familiar. closed in Rosalie Pan's wink. "Half an hour," Hsi said, and was again
himself. He began to shake. was that for Rosalie Pan: her telephone, her social secretary, and on
occasion he was the garment her dates put on. For Rosalie was one he smoked an opium pipe; once he dined on roasted puppy. He saw many
interesting things and, when Rosalie was occupied without him, he had And Chandler was free, and Rosalie excitedly leaping out of the bed
behind him, careless of the wisp of nylon that was her only garment, "_Shto, Rosie?_" said Chandler's mouth thickly.

"Oh, there you are, Andrei," she said, and spoke quickly in Russian. almost content. Rosie was good company--gay, cheerful--and she had
treasures to share. It had been an impulse of hers, a long drive in When he saw her commit suicide he redoubled his efforts. It was
incredible to him that his life had been saved, and he knew that if he
Chandler went back into the building and brewed some strong black
coffee. While it was bubbling on the stove he slipped the coronet back She wore a coronet like the fat man's, intertwined in a complicated
hairdo, and she got right down to business. "Chandler, is it? All at his mind. But Koitska's strength was almost gone. The eyes glazed,
and Chandler was upon him. He ripped the coronet off and flung it She had a coronet, and Chandler recognized her. It was the girl who had
interrogated him. "I guess I am," he admitted. him the coronet. "Now, when you see something interesting, you move
right in. You'll see how. It's the easiest thing in the world, and--Oh,
here. Put it on." into the coronet Chandler had seen on the heads of Koitska and the
girl--but that was enough for the January push. It was dawn. His job was done. He carried the coronet, the only working
coronet in the world, in his hand. He had spent the night killing, Wise now in the ways of this world, Chandler commandeered a police car
and was hurried out to the South Gate, where the guards allowed him a
car of his own. The door of the building was unlocked and Chandler went
right up. crowding softly, warmly past him to reach inside the safe. She lifted
out a coronet very like her own. As Chandler took them the look in the guard's eyes showed the quick
release of tension that meant he was free again; and in that same
moment Chandler's own body was occupied once more. malfunction of the coronet or whatever, Chandler could not bank on its
lasting. of the guards came toward him, with the purposeful movements Chandler
had learned to recognize. Without speaking the guard dug into a pocket.
Chandler jumped up instinctively, but it was only a set of car keys. Suspicion crossed Chandler's mind. In a moment it was confirmed, as the
red-headed man raised his hands waist high and clasped his right hand
around his left wrist--only for a moment, but that was enough. himself knew, it seemed. "Maybe this is only a duplicate. Maybe it
won't be used. But maybe it will--and Chandler's the man who can In his own body he destroyed the installation in Oahu. A few minutes
at Koitska's work bench, and he had changed the frequency on his own
coronet to transmit on the new band the leper's touch had given the
Hilo equipment. Chandler drove himself back to that body and, though it could not work
well, he could make it turn a frequency dial, using its clubbed hands
like sticks. He could make it throw a switch. He then caused it to She linked arms with him as they left the plane. "When I was first
given the coronet here," she reminisced, amusement in her voice, "I with some small device--Chandler could not see what--and when he looked
again it was gone. He did not see them take it away and did not know
where it was taken. Toward midnight he suddenly realized that it was building where his body lay. He had slit his dozen throats and fired
bullets into his hundred hearts and hundred brains; he had entered
bodies only long enough to feel for a coronet, and if it was there the "Certainly," said Hsi optimistically. "You thinking about stealing
them? What would you do with them?"

"Well...." Chandler puffed on his cigarette. "Well, I could--"
The exec who had looked at him out of the boy's eyes, who had
penetrated this nest of enemies and extricated Chandler from it, had Of the Executive Committee, Chandler thought she meant at first, but
then he thought again. No. Of the world. For the thousand execs, Chandler got out. The policeman slammed the door behind him, ripping
rubber off his tires with the speed of his U-turn and acceleration back
toward Honolulu. He did not look at Chandler. Wise now in the ways of this world, Chandler commandeered a police car
and was hurried out to the South Gate, where the guards allowed him a
car of his own. The door of the building was unlocked and Chandler went
right up. Chandler drained his drink and shook his head. "One question," he said.
"Who's 'we'?" The ball game was a cover. Chandler was present at a meeting of what
Hsi had called The Society of Slaves, the underground that dared to pit
itself against the execs. "Now, that's another good question," said Chandler. "Who is the Exec?"

Hsi shook his head. "Sorry. I don't know you, Chandler." But it seemed that the execs were tiring too. One of the Hawaiians said
irritably, with an accent Chandler did not recognize: "That's pau. All Without comment Hsi turned back to Chandler. He said, "I believe you.
Would you like to know why it happened? Because I think I can tell you.
The execs have all the antibiotics they need now." one of the other execs might dart down out of the mind-world into the
real, looking at the scene through Chandler's eyes and surely deducing Chandler was genuinely startled at that. Rosie nodded seriously. "If
one exec should give away something he's not supposed to it would upset Hsi shook his head. "There's meat, all right, but not here. You'll
only find it in the places where the execs sometimes go.... Tell me
something, Chandler. What's that scar on your forehead." Clutching the thick sheaf of diagrams, Chandler felt himself propelled
outside and back into the little car. The interview was over. He was very impatient, for when he was done he would be the only exec.

And the execs would be only slaves.


XV but Chandler understood it: What he was watching was a single member
of the exec trying to keep a group of twenty ordinary, unarmed human
beings in line. The exec was leaping from mind to mind; even so, the and--no, vait." The fat man closed his eyes and Chandler felt himself
seized and propelled down the stairs to what had once been a bay of a It was suicide to attempt to harm an exec. He would certainly lose his
life--except--that was gone already anyhow; he had lost it. He had
nothing left to lose.




XIV As Chandler took them the look in the guard's eyes showed the quick
release of tension that meant he was free again; and in that same
moment Chandler's own body was occupied once more. Chandler straightened, then sat down again. The red-headed man guarding
him was looking away. It would be quite possible to grab his gun, run, went over Chandler's shoulders. The man must have weighed three hundred
pounds. Slowly, wheezing, he limped toward the back of the room and
touched a button.
What crimes was Chandler on trial for? What is the name of the former Broadway star? What does the cult use to ward of possession? In the story who commits suicide?  Why are the execs building new equipment?  What is the name of the sacred text Chandler brings to Hawaii?  What does the letter "H" on Chandler's forehead stand for? What does the leader of the Execs die from? Who does the cult think is responsible for the possessions?  What was every government in the world attacked by? What did people who committed crimes without control over the actions believe was the cause? Who is the protagonist of the story? What crimes is Chandler accused of committing? What does the "H" placed on Chandler's head stand for? What objects does Chandler find out allows "possessors" to take over people's minds? What was Rosalie Pan's former job? How did the leader of the execs die? Who is the one person Chandler doesn't kill when dealing with the execs? What does Chandler do with the new equipment to close the story? What is Chandler on trial for? What did the letter H branded on Chandler's forehead stand for? What did Chandler take to Hawaii? What did Chandler learn while in Hawaii? Who does Chandler fall under the influence of? What does Roaslie want Chandler to do?  What happens to Rosalie's lover? What does Chandler do with the new coronet? How does Chandler get rid of the execs?
Rape and murder. Rape and murder
Rosalie Pan rosalie pan
Pain Pain
The execs The execs
To be able to leave Hawaii with their physical bodies.  To be able to use their technology farther away from the equipment
The Prophet The Prophet  by Khail Gibran 
Hoaxer Hoaxer
A heart attack. heart attack
Flame spirits. flame spirits
its own military machinery Its own military machinery
possession Possesion 
Chandler Chandler 
rape and murder rape and murder
Hoaxer hoaxer
coronets Silver Coronets
Broadway star Broadway Star
a heart attack heart attack
Rosalie Pan rosalie
He decides to keep it He causes the other execs to commit suicide
Rape and murder. Rape
Hoaxer hoaxer
A copy of The Prophet by Khalil Gibran A book called The Prophet
That the poccessors are people. the possessers are people
Rosalie Pan Rosalie
She wants him to become one of the execs. To join her
He dies from a heart attack. He dies of a heart attack
He uses it to wipe out the execs. He kills the execs. 
He gets them to commit suicide. He uses the new coronet.