The hamlet Fluxxus was a small place, and its population was even smaller-just a dozen toys, no two alike. Yet the population of Fluxxus filled a great space, and conducted a great many noble practices, and even upkept a passable culture. They loved each other dearly, and their collective body was much greater than were their bodies apart, and so was their town much greater than were their individual homes. And they had a mayor. Of course they had a mayor! These were people strong enough to endure the pressure of rulership, to make of it something disciplined and grand! These were not people who needed to be treated softly, even if they were few. They knew just what they had.

The mayor was Big Al, the bulldozer. He ruled smoothly and fairly, and tried his best not to hold grudges with those whose lives he governed. He was not a great speaker, nor had he any great reserve of wisdom; however, he had a massive presence. He was able to unite the Fluxxians merely by existing at their center. And that task satisifed him well.

Big Al was assisted in his office of government by Presto, his loyal advisor, organizer, and administrator of the rites, and by his deputy, Orbit. They were his aides, with whom he worked in perfect harmony, always providing the vital link between the office of governor and the rest of the people. The situation had been established long ago, and what problems it had once encountered were distant memories. Yet, both Presto and Orbit were in the audience that day, and not up by the great bulldozer's side. They had to be, as the message was for them, as for everyone else. In fact, Big Al's message applied to himself too, but someone had to stand on the Orator's Platform and read it. He was worried that it would make the people hate him for a time, but it had to be done.

There, the last two had arrived, Krush Kringle and Zap Bot, sinister cohorts in who-knows-what. These were the ones that Big Al, despite all his bold efforts, could not help but dislike. To him, it seemed like everything they did was rigged toward aggravating his estimate of them even more. How could he remain passive under conditions like that? As he had told himself on many occasions, if people wanted to be hated, was there any crime in hating them?

They sat down, still murmuring, so Big Al called everyone to attention. "Listen closely, all of you!" he shouted, as if the level of tension he sought were already carried in the air, without the aid of any ominous introduction. "Listen, toys! The winds have congregated on our hamlet, on our great moor! They've sucked down the top floor of the Rook! They have extinguished the night lights! What more are you looking for?"

It worked. By jumping abruptly into a timbre of jeopardy, Big Al effectively silenced the crowd. They were there in the plaza, right where he wanted them to be for their own good, contemplating the dire prophecy which had just seen all its conditions met, worrying about the future just as he wished them to, listening to the peril of the wind. He continued without a pause. "And the prophecy clearly says that one of us-one of us!- will cause it to be true! Now, I know we don't all believe equally in the prophecies of yesteryear, but I want it to be clear that should anyone try to bring about our-our downfall on purpose, he, she or it will find it most difficult, because we will all be on our guard! I am standing here asking you to make this prophecy an impossibility-if you don't believe in it, do it just to comfort the rest of us. Stay with someone you trust whenever you can. Secure your homes. Be careful where you go at night, now that the night lights are gone. And don't make anyone angry. Please. We all know that we love each other, right?"

The people were too chilled to respond. They loved each other, of course they did, but they might forget that if they were too scared. Unfortunately, Big Al knew that to scare them was necessary.

"It's quite possible the prophecy means our downfall will come about by accident. Someone flips a bad circuit, we all explode. But if that's not what it means, if someone is out there right now plotting against us, I want to make it clear that we will not suffer a murderer to live!"

Clucketta, the poor wide-eyed thing, she looked as if she were seeing the tornado back again. Big Al had known this would happen. He wished he could have talked to everyone separately, but it just wouldn't have had the force. She'd just have to sit and bear it.

"We've never had to make this decision before, but now that we do, I'm invoking my power as mayor to make the right one now for all of us. This is my word: murder is one thing, and municipal punishment is another! If one of us is discovered a plotter of murder, we will put that one to death!" Big Al now faced his audience as a collection of individuals which he knew well, no longer as an aggregate, and he named them all in turn. "Disasteroid, I hope it won't be you with all my heart, but if it is, we'll strip you apart piece by piece when we find out, run an alternating current through your neck, see if we don't. Zap-Bot, if it's you we'll stick your clamps in a magnetic field-you won't last a minute, but there's plenty of pain involved, you know that. Presto, my deputy, if it turns out you've been betraying me, we'll squash you in the cannery. Handy, I can't imagine you'd do something like this, but if you did, we'd tear you finger from finger! Likewise, Clucketta, we'd drive a pike through you if you were a murderer, much as we love you. Walking Time Bomb, if you're a murderer, we'll rip out your fuse and fill you up with wax, I swear it. Krush Kringle-if you do it we'll tear off your limbs and leave you sputtering at the seams until you die! Same for you, Kanga, we'd rip off your tail and legs and arm and see how long you last! Deadhead, you're no murderer, I hope, but if you are, it's the visegrip to you! Orbit, plot the death of your brethren and we'll smash your windshield and derim you from the inside! Ziggy, if you did it, we'd stab you right through the head with your own feelers! And if I turn out to be the one, I want you all to take off my wheels and run me off a roof. I hope this is perfectly clear-there will be no opportunities, and there will be no mercy."

This time the murmuring couldn't be controlled. It didn't matter. Big Al saluted his people with a forward thrust and left the platform. He'd done his duty. Cruel and frightening it had been, but precautions had to be taken. The recent tornado had matched the prophecy too closely to be a coincidence.

<< BACK