complex.
The crusader struck a Charlton Heston pose and snarled: "In the name ofChristendom, what peculiar intruder bring you before me?"
Everett meticulously assayed the gaunt, fanatic figure before him, cladin apostolic robes. "I'll do a lot for a dollar, as the girl said to thesoldier, but this is ludicrous. Who needs Telempathy? This cat is sophony, any gossoon can peg him."
Sowles motioned to a monkish aide at a desk, who scribbled furiously ina drab notebook. Cam walked to the aides' side and read: "Gossoons."
"I don't have to look, Cam," said Everett. "I have just issued the deathwarrant for gossoons, if this vampire ever comes to power, and if heever finds out what they are."
"Down, boy," said Cam. "Father Sowles, this man and his group appear topossess an instinct or faculty that could make the difference betweensuccess and failure. Everett, belay the commentary and look sharp: Thisis your chance at the large dinero."
"Curt!" Cam called the wall-com. On its screen appeared Curt Andrews,bright young assistant account man, reflexively simulating activity athis desk. "Bring in the Name-O-Scope, please."
* * * * *
Cam turned to explain to the waiting group: "This gadget coming up isanother of our recent triumphs in the application of the scientificmethod to marketing. Just as a computer solves problems in a splitsecond that would take human mathematicians months, the Name-O-Scopearrives at and presents all the bewildering array of possible cognomensfor a given thing in a matter of hours. The proliferating combinationsof possible name components are reeled off in a rapid fire for ourevaluation."
Curt came in with what appeared to be a portable rear-screenpresentation projector, with dials and an extra lead; which he attachedto the conference table.
"With this device," continued Cam, "Edgar Rice Burroughs would not haveto have spent weeks playing with nonsense syllables before styling hishero 'Tarzan'." He guided Ev to a specially constructed chair at thetable, rolled up one sleeve, applied the clamp to his bicep. "Themachine provided evaluation of alternate names on the basis ofblood-pressure fluctuation. Till now, we've had to operate on the basisof a cumulative group reaction, with the obvious disadvantages of allgroup samples. With Everett & Associates, we may well have asingle-unit, perfectly representative sounding board."
"Roll 'em, Curt. Ev, if this works, you've made the consultant roster."
"I trust that involves geetus," replied Ev.
Curt dimmed the lights. On the screen, three heraldic cornets sang afanfare, followed by floating banners:
"POSSIBLE TITLES FOR THE SOWLES MOVEMENT"
This dissolved to an aerial view of the 20th Century war (mostly clipsof the Normandy landings). The camera picked out one brave, clean column(new footage) and zoomed in on the device at its fore: A Cross ofLorraine with a Star of David at its center. Superimposed wavy lettersfaded in:
"THE NEW CHURCH MILITANT"
Curt studied the dial with the aid of a pocketlite, and made a notation.The scene and the martial music faded out, to be replaced by stockfootage from medieval epics: Peter the Hermit exhorting knights to smitethe Saracen, the clash of Mediterranean men o' war, chivalric pageantryfeaturing again the cross-and-star:
"CRUSADE FOR OUR TIME"
The eyes of the super-mongoose gleamed in the shadows as Curt took thereading.
Next came a montage of heroic scenes from two millennia of history: fromAgincourt to Iwo, from the villagers marching on Frankenstein's castleto the Four Freedoms conference at sea. One familiar strain underscoredall the stirring action; its key words flamed to life:
"SOWLES' CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS"
Everett's familiar emitted a shrill squeak. Curt gasped, "Cam! Right offthe dial!"
"All right, Curt! Hit the lights.... We won't bother with the rest."
"What devil's work _is_ this?" demanded the cadaverous Sowles, blinkingas the lights went on.
"Father, for the first time in the history of mass opinion manipulation,we are scientifically certain, in advance, of optimum response. Everettand his Telempathetic _Gestalt_ have proved to be the equivalent of theworld's largest survey sample. In the past, whenever a product was aboutto be launched on the board waters of the American mercantile ocean, butlacked for a sobriquet, prides of copywriters and other creative peoplehuddled late into the night fashioning Names, from which the entiremarketing strategy would flow. Remember the Ocelot, Curt?"
"Lord, will I ever forget it. 18,000 names!"
"On behalf of our airplane account, gentlemen. Of those 18,000 names wedreamed up for the 1981 model, some truly ridiculous labels crept inwhen fatigue and inbred mental circumlocution weakened our defenses."
"The Dawn Play Air Coupe," recalled Curt, with a shudder. "The PterriblePterodactyl.... The Crimson Inca...."
"Spare us, Curt. The point is that as a result of this grislyexperience, we invented the Name-O-Scope. The name 'Ocelot' wasultimately selected, and worked out superbly--through sheer good fortunealone. For your campaign, Father, the Name-O-Scope came up with 3,248possible slogan-names."
"I saw only three," Sowles said, dourly. His aide scribbled something inthe notebook.
"I wouldn't inflict the whole wild roster on you, sir--or even on youradjutant there. But we did expose them to selected samples in thirtymajor markets; and the cumulative finding put these three in a class bythemselves, at the top. Furthermore, these random tests agreed 100% withEverett in the selection of 'SOWLES' CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS' as the idealmotif, out of those pre-eminent three.... So we are doubly, even triplychecked out before take-off; since these findings confirm the humbleopinion of our own staff."
The eagle-eyed leader bent his probing gaze on Cam. "So you say, wizardof words. But while you're rejoicing in these strange devices andstranger accomplices, the enemy draws nigh. The primary is but weeksaway, and already the invective of the political jackal beats on theears of the electorate like a stormy sea."
Everett lifted his shaggy head. "You mix a hirsute metaphor,Charlemagne, but my li'l friends tell me that that's the sort of chatterthat the idiot voters will lap up like a friendly Frostee."
"You see, Father--this is the break we needed," pitched Cam. "With thisweird talent of Everett _et al_., we can pre-test every element of thegreat campaign. The pieces of the jigsaw will drop into place overnight,and we can kick off the Big Push next week.... Like with a monster rallyby torchlight and Kleig in Hollywood Bowl.... Singing our hymn under thestars while millions view.... How 'bout that, Ev?"
The impresario of the impalpable nodded. "Should be great. Monstrous, infact."
* * * * *
In the day that followed, Cam and all his cohorts in MAB let themselvesgo in a good old-fashioned creative orgy. With one large difference. Inthe past, copy, layouts, and other campaign ingredients were threshedout in endless conferences, and decisions were made on the basis of aninformed group guess. Now, each new idea was exposed at infancy like aSpartan baby to the elemental reaction of Ev & Co., and instantly giventhe yea or nay.
The rotund oracle was kept under lock and latch in the "Think-Box." Thisroom had been scientifically designed for sequestering agency people whohad to give birth to slogans and such under deadline pressure. The wallswere sound-proofed, the couch pulled out into a properly uncomfortablebed, and a refrigerator was stocked with snack makings. It was alsoserved by dumbwaiter. Phones were banished, of course; as was 3-D andall other distraction--even windows. Visual motion was, however,provided by a giant clock. The only concessions to Ev were a speciallittle hutch for the super-mongoose; and a bar, carefully regulated tomake certain he never completely blotted out the hypothetical brainwave"network."
Cam did his best to pump Ev for the identity of his "Associates", butthe old sack of iniquity was wise to his game. He'd rear back and squintat Cam like a Lebanese fruit vendor and thoughtfully pick his nose."Like to know me confederates, is it?" he'd ask. Then, with a great showof candor: "Well, one of them is a sea creatu
re, but I'll say no morethan that. I know you'd never be able to live with the thought of beingin business with a squid."
Then Ev would laugh wildly. "Ah, wouldn't he like to know!"
"It's only for your own protection," Cam expostulated. "I know there aremore people in this lash-up. We've got to make certain that they're safefrom accident--can't have the _Gestalt_ disrupted."
"Bosh," was Ev's invariable verdict.
Meanwhile, Cam's little elves paraded through with all the paraphernaliaof the Big Push. Livid posters, featuring a Messianic Sowles. Full-pageads,
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