My bed was like an empty grave and I lay in it shivering, trying to feel compassionate, trying to understand-trying to be mature. But I couldn't be mature-not when I was surrounded by idiots and assholes, blind and selfish and wallowing in their own sick games and fetishes and power ploys. What I really wanted to do was hit and kick and burn and smash and destroy. I wanted to pound and pound and pound. I wanted to grab these people and shake them up and down so hard their eyes would rattle in their heads.

I wanted to feel safe. I wanted to feel that someone, somewhere-anywhere-knew what he was doing. But right now, I didn't think that anyone in the world knew what he was doing, not even me.

Were they all that blind or sick-or stupid?

Why couldn't they see the truth in front of them? S¢ut-Phwut.

Why couldn't they see it?

Show Low, Arizona, was no hoax!

TED STAGGERED in at six in the morning, slamming into the room, switching on the lights and banging and clattering his way from wall to wall to bathroom.

"Hooboy!" he shouted. "I am going to be limp for a week-and walk funny for two." The rest of it was lost under the sound of running water.

An axe would be too messy, I decided. It would have to be a gun.

"Hey, Jim! You awake?"

"I am now," I grunted. No, the gun would be too quick. I wanted it to be painful. I'd use my bare hands.

He lurched into the room, grinning. "Hey-you getting up?" What was left of his makeup was smeared.

"Yeah. I've got something I want to do."

"Well, let it wait. This is more important. You're lucky I had to come back for clean clothes. You can ride back with me-but hurry up!"

I sat up on the edge of the bed, "Ride back where?"

"Back to the hotel. The first session isn't until ten, but I've got a breakfast meeting-"

"Breakfast meeting?"

"Yeah-you got any sober-ups?"

"I dunno. I'll have to look-"

"Never mind, I can get some at the hotel. Come on, get dressed-"

"Just a minute-" I sat there, rubbing my eyes. My head hurt. I granted him a temporary stay of execution while I reviewed the evidence. "What's this all about? Where were you all night?"

"Painting the town black and blue. Come on-" He pulled me to my feet. "-Into the shower with you. I did a party-walk-"

"Party-walk?"

"Is there an echo in here? Yeah, a party-walk." He was punching up a cycle on the shower panel. "Come on, get out of those-unless you're going to shower in your underwear."

"Wait a minute-!" I started to sit down on the commode.

"We haven't got a minute." And suddenly, he was lifting me up bodily, stepping into the shower and holding me under the running water. "Goddammit!" Not even a phone call from the governor would save him now. All I needed was a jar of honey, an anthill and four stakes.

My paper underwear was already shedding off. He handed me the soap, then shredded off his own sopping shirt. He peeled off his kilt-it was real-and tossed it out of the shower onto the bathroom floor.

I had to ask. "Did you leave them somewhere?"

"Leave what?"

"Your underwear?"

"Never wear any. It's traditional. Nothing's worn under a kilt." He grinned foolishly. "Well, it's a little worn this morning, but give me a couple days-I'll be all right."

I turned away from him, stuck my head under one of the shower heads and just stood there. Aahhh.

"Anyway-" he continued, "-I went for a party-walk." Maybe if I let the water run into my ears, I wouldn't be able to hear him. "Only this time, I did it with a purpose. I started out on the main floor of the reception with Colonel Bustworthremember him? The one with the girl? He's a very important man to know-he's in charge of requisitions, supplies and transportation for the whole Denver area. He's the perfect bureaucrat-he makes the paper run on time. Anyway-Jim, stand a little closer to the soap! We're in a hurry! Anyway, I stuck with him long enough to get into a private party in the penthouse. The Conference Committee. Sat in the corner near three of the armpieces and listened to them gossip. In fifteen minutes I knew who was important in that room and who wasn't. Another fifteen minutes and they knew who I was-Senator Jackson's nephew from Mormon University!"

"Huh-?"

"Shut up and scrub-I haven't finished my story."

"Ted, you can't tell lies like that-"

"How should I tell them?"

"You know what I mean. Not to congressmen and generals and God knows who else!"

"Jim, it didn't matter. No two of them were paying any attention to anything except what was coming out of their own mouths -or going in. And when they were ready to drift on to the next party, I drifted with them. And met another roomful of people and did it again. I listened to the gossip and picked out the most important-it's easy to tell, the gossip gets particularly nastyand got as close to them as I could. I went through seven parties that way, each one better than the last. There was a United Nations reception, just for the diplomatic corps-did you know half the world is here? Your Uncle Sam rented a ballroom-I met a senator over the guacamole dip-but it was the Communists who had the most lavish spread. They were in the Imperial Suite. And I even got into the Society for Wholesale Aggression; now, there's a weird bunch. But useful. Do you know how important mercenaries are to the balance of world power?"

"No, and I don't care." On second thought: "Do they do assassinations? And how much do they charge?"

"Only character-and if you have to ask, you can't afford it." I started getting out of the shower, but Ted grabbed me. "Wait a minute-you haven't heard the best part."

"Yes, I have!"

He pulled me back into an affectionate hug. "You're beautiful when you're angry-"

"Knock it off, Ted!"

"-and I love it when you play hard to get." But he let me go. I stepped away hotly. The only thing keeping Theodore Andrew Nathaniel Jackson alive now was my inability to think of a convenient way to dispose of the body.

I stood under the shower again-he'd gotten soap all over my back. The spray was alternating between warm rain and hot needle-jets. "I want you to cut that out, Ted."

"You don't have to worry-everybody knows it's all over between us now, anyway. I met this girl last night, and let her `cure' me. Oh, I didn't want to, Jim. I tried to be faithful-I told her I had made a solemn commitment-but she convinced me to try it once the other way-and she was right. That was all I needed."

"Terrific. I'm very happy for you. You've not only convinced everybody I'm a fag-now I'm a jilted fag. And I don't even know how the whole thing started." I turned around under the shower, lifting my arms to rinse underneath them. At the exact same moment, the water spray went icy-a sudden pummeling jackhammer of very cold water, the run-off from the local glacier. "Aahhh!" said Ted. "Doesn't that feel great? Doesn't that just wake you up?"

I couldn't answer. I was too busy swearing-I was out of the shower and shivering into a towel before the walls stopped echoing. I was now completely awake, and it didn't matter anymore whether I had a way to dispose of the body or not.

"Answer the door, Jim!"

"Huh?"

"The door-can't you hear the knocking?"

I grouched out of the bathroom and puddled over to the door. "Yeah-?" I snarled.

It was a bony-looking woman with bassett-hound eyes. Why did she look familiar? Oh, yeah-the one who'd refilled Fromkin's drink. She'd been waiting on him all evening, now that I thought about it. "Hi, Jim," she said. "We haven't been formally introduced-" She grabbed my hand and pumped it. "-I'm Dinnie. Are you guys ready yet?" She had bad teeth.

"Uh-no."

"Okay, I'll wait." She swept past me and parked herself in the room's one chair.