haven't you?" he said. He draggedon his cigarette. The tip flamed up painfully. I shrank back and againbrought my hand up to protect my chin.
"What's the matter with you?" the man asked sharply.
I did not know how to answer. I stood mute and waiting.
"I want to go now, and I want to take that girl with me. Do youunderstand?" The man's voice was harsh with anger.
I shut the principle off. The girl lifted her head, but she appearedto be in a trance. The man took her arm and they walked off throughthe park. A murderous rage against the heavy man filled me. I cuppedmy hand. He was well within range--but then I thought of my mission,Excellency, and let him go. For hours afterwards that lovely girl whowas taken from me was in my thoughts.
* * * * *
Your Excellency, two suggestions come out of this experience. Theyboth concern our induced modifications. Any of us who come to Americashould be able to shut off the heat sensor at will. With everyone heresmoking and lighting cigarettes and turning on 300-watt light bulbs inone's face, with automobiles approaching at night shooting out twosearing heat beams in front of them, the environment is too full ofshocks. It is too easy for us to be spotted because of this weakness.
Also, Your Excellency, a change must be made in the connection betweenall of the induced modifications. When I accumulate a heat charge,that means that the male principle is automatically on. When I wasaccumulating a charge to kill the heavy man, the principle wasaffecting the woman, and she was reacting to it. The combination wasnot desirable at that time. When I light the paper at the theatre, themale principle is also on, and affects the women in the audience. Wecan use the male principle without using the heat ray. Why can't weuse the heat ray without using the male principle? This modificationshould be induced.
The next afternoon there was a matinee performance at the theatre. Itwas crowded. The management had even provided for standing room at theback of the theatre. I started, as usual, by selecting an ironreinforcing bar and tying it into a four-in-hand around my neck.
To my surprise, although it looked exactly the same, it was muchharder to bend. I never did get the ends quite even.
I had just put the second bar around the neck of the stooge from theaudience when I noticed something queer. Although this was usually theplace for hilarious laughter, everyone was silent. I looked out overthe audience. A man was standing in the aisle, just a few feet fromthe stage. He was pointing a gun right at me. It was the heavy man.
As I turned around he said, "Put up your hands."
I put them up.
He spoke in a loud, deep voice, "This is no gag, ladies and gentlemen.This man on the stage is the most dangerous and cold-blooded murdererin America. He is the murderer of Lydia Davis and Genevieve Scott."
Several other men stood up. They all had masses of metal under theirleft arm pits. The heavy man gave them an order. "Go up on the stageand handcuff him. Use five pairs of handcuffs."
Then he spoke to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, today wesubstituted tempered steel bars for the reinforcing bars. Twentyordinary men couldn't have bent one of those bars. What you havewitnessed was no trick. The man you see on the stage is not like us.He has the strength of at least forty men. Please remain in yourseats. We can handle this situation."
The audience gasped and murmured. A woman screamed.
The group of men started walking towards the stage. My hands were up.I cupped my right one and gave the heavy man a full charge of heat.His hair went up in a bright orange flame. He dropped the red hot gunfrom his smoking hand, and fell to the floor. He frantically rolledaround the aisle trying to put out his flaming clothes.
One of the other men shot at me. The little piece of lead came towardme, flew over my shoulder. It was going at about 900 feet per second.This was enough to kill me, Excellency. I became panic-stricken. Ifled into the wings. I was followed by a storm of little whistlinglead pellets.
The stagehands scattered hysterically before me as I ran down thesteps and out the stage door entrance. The street in front of thetheatre was packed with police cruisers and athletic-looking men inblue uniforms.
* * * * *
Before anyone saw me, I cupped my hand, and fired the gas tank of thenearest police cruiser. The ray of the male principle went out withthe heat ray. As I ran by the flaming car, all of the women in thestreet felt something important. They all turned and looked at me.
Policemen started shooting. They piled out of their cars. The streetwas echoing with yells and shouts. I was terrified. I exerted anenormous effort of will and mustered every atom of energy at mycommand. I sent a full-power heat blast up the street. I have nevermarshalled a bigger blast, even in the contests at our training schoolin Area Twelve.
Fifteen automobiles burst into flames. Twenty or thirty men and womenfell screaming to the sidewalk, their clothes burning. A flock ofroasted pigeons fell smoking out of the sky. A black cloud condensedover the street, and a forked tongue of lightning flashed from it.Every woman within a quarter of a mile felt the hot electrical forceof the male principle. I dived into the Times Square subway entranceand sprinted down the stairs. There was a men's washroom at the end ofthe platform.
I heard the wild tumult of pursuit behind me. I pushed open the door.A man was there washing his hands. I strangled him, tore off hisclothes, and put them on myself. Hastily, I twisted my face about sothat I looked like an entirely different person. I opened the door andstarted walking slowly back down the platform.
A platoon of policemen with drawn guns was sprinting down the platformtowards me. They were followed by a yelling mob of civilians whichincluded hundreds of women. They swept by me. I was safe, butshivering with fear, Excellency. I was spent. I couldn't have musteredup a heat ray strong enough to warm the end of my nose.
I stumbled around the corner and away from that neighborhood. Then Iwent into the first restaurant I saw, and gorged. After a five dollarplank steak, three glasses of milk, one glass of beer, and apple pie ala mode I was still ravenous; still energy-minus.
I went a block up the street, into another restaurant, and bolted downexactly the same meal again. Strength started to flow slowly throughmy veins. After one more meal in still another restaurant, myconfidence returned.
The newspapers handled the affair with amazing restraint. The factsbrought in by their reporters naturally sounded fantastic to theeditors, so they rearranged them to "make sense." The reticence of theauthorities, particularly the F.B.I., helped to convert what mighthave caused a national panic into just an unusually spectacular chaseafter an escaped murderer. The burning cars were laid to hooliganismon the part of the bystanders. The people who got burned, so thestories explained, were hurt by the gasoline explosions of the burningcars. The mass hysteria of the women was caused by the excitement. Thepapers said that the steel necktie worn by my stooge at the theatrehad to be cut off by a water-cooled electric saw. They said thathowever I did it, it was a clever trick.
The next few days, Your Excellency, were the most difficult of my stayhere. I knew that the full power of not only the F.B.I., but of thewhole national government, would be concentrated to destroy me. I hadto hide--hide, and get a new start.
The money in the pockets of my borrowed suit didn't last long. Icouldn't possibly risk presenting myself as a strong man or amagician again. I became a ditch digger and a day laborer, and finallydrifted into the professional wrestling racket. Many of the topwrestling promoters live in Washington, D. C. I rented a little whiteclapboard house with green shutters, out in the country beyond SilverSprings, Maryland.
* * * * *
I was careful to keep myself a second-rate wrestler. This wasexasperating, Your Excellency. At any time I could have beaten threeor four of their best wrestlers simultaneously. Everything was fixedso I won and lost when they told me to. We even practiced how we weregoing to win or lose before each match. I was very obedient and veryscared.
r /> I did everything _not_ to attract attention. I started to use the maleprinciple again, but so sparingly that everything looked natural.
I tried to fit into the life of the community and become an American.I joined a Bowling League. I learned to play a game called "Canasta."
I got to be great friends with a man named Nat Brown, an automobilemechanic. He lived with his extraordinarily beautiful wife, Helene, ina house about a half mile away.
The Browns used to ask me to dinner, and I would meet their friends. Igrew very fond of them. We would sit around and drink beer and playcards and talk until late at night about politics and philosophy andlove and everything else on earth. It was by far the swiftest part ofmy education in America, living with these lighthearted, charmingpeople who obviously liked me.
The only disadvantage was the problem raised by my increasing fondnessfor Helene Brown. She was a vivid incarnation of the female principle,and yet I knew I must not touch her. I had a