Blows and Counter-Blows
Less than twenty minutes later, a second Striking Sub-committee arrived. Its members were eight in number, and their method of swaggering hostility was such that I had no difficulty in repeating my previous tactics. Before they realized what I was about, I had gotten too close for them to see me clearly and I aimed my blows so accurately that, in less than a minute, half the gang lay stretched upon the floor. The others, not quite realizing what had struck them, were not long in resorting to that discretion which most men prefer to valor. Dashing to the door, they leaped upon their "scootscoots," which awaited just without, and darted away with a lunatic recklessness, while I stood staring after them with an amused smile. As yet I did not suspect how tragic the occasion was to be.
While my felled opponents were staggering to their feet and retreating by a side-entrance, the sound of a frightful crash came to my ears; and, rushing out and around a bend in the gallery, I saw that a crowd had gathered, while in their midst was a shapeless mass that I could hardly recognize.
Horrified, I shielded my eyes from the sight; and only by degrees did the dread truth dawn upon me; the escaping members of the Sub-committee, in their haste, had collided with some other "scootscoots," and all four members had been "turned over."
But such incidents being of daily occurrence, I tried not to let my mind dwell upon it; and, returning to my seat in the Ventilation Office, I quietly awaited the next development.
Not being good at presaging the future, I could not have known how the news of my exploit was to spread; and how, fanned by rumor, it was to grow to gigantic proportions. As luck would have it, a reporter for the Wakely Blare, on the rampage for material, happened to be present at the scene of the collision; and though he had small idea what had happened, he had no hesitation about accepting the word of onlookers who knew as little about the affair as he did. Consequently he radioed his paper a story so good that the editor decided to make it headline material—in other words, he printed it in red ink all over the front page, while other news items were driven to footnotes on back pages.
This article—which is too long to repeat in its entirety—was to the effect that a regiment of strike-breakers had appeared, no one knew where from, under the leadership of a redoubtable giant capable of "turning over" any adversary at a blow. So tremendous was the power of this group that opponents were said to be under a fatal spell, so that even fugitives from their vengeance came to certain disaster. As proof of this fact, the paper cited the destruction of the four members of the Sub-committee—whose numbers, however, were given as fourteen....
Now the speed of the papers of Wu in printing the news is phenomenal. Thanks to automatic typesetters, which take down the articles from radio dictation, a matter of only minutes need elapse between the occurrence of an event and its appearance in print. In fact, on some occasions the news is reported in "extra-extra" and "super-extra-extra" editions even while the event is happening; it is recorded that once the Screamer, in a special "scoop"—or "raid," as the natives call it—announced the death of a high official seventeen minutes before he actually breathed his last.
Hence it is not surprising that, less than half an hour after I had routed the second Sub-committee, papers telling of the exploit were being flaunted in all the main galleries by the newsgirls (there were no newsboys, since all the boys had gone to war).
Now if truth be told, the Blare was extremely glad of the opportunity to print this story, since, like all the papers, it was owned by a group of First Class citizens, and therefore was profoundly "anti-strike," and eager to play up any account hostile to the strikers. This it was which, along with the desire for circulation—for which several newspaper proprietors had been known to commit murder—explained the prompt featuring of the article.
Even so, the effect of the article would not have been possible had it not been for one little weakness of the people of Wu. In most ways, they are not a credulous folk; indeed, one may show them a plain fact ninety-nine ways without convincing them; but when a statement is once in print, they consider it inviolable. Never would it occur to them to question any remark, once it has been subjected to the sacred art of typography. They imagine that there is a sort of magic connected with printer's ink, which abhors falsehood somewhat as water abhors fire, and in this superstition the educated seem to share along with their more ignorant brothers.
As a consequence, the rumor of my prowess, once it had attained the dignity of a place in the Blare, had taken on the sanctity of established knowledge.
In view of the fact that the circulation of the Blare was somewhere in the millions (it being prescribed as compulsory reading for all persons with a mental age of twelve or under), it was not an hour before I, along with my imagined regiment of supporters, had become a subject of discussion for all Wu. And the effect upon the strikers may well be imagined. It hit them in that vital spot, their morale, with the result that many began to hesitate whether to remain on strike, and in some districts it was reported that the men were going back to work and ventilation was being restored. Most of all, the ignorant were disturbed by that passage in the story which told of the "mysterious spell" afflicting all opponents of the new strikebreaker. As this was nothing tangible for anyone to combat, it was all the more capable of arousing the terror of the masses, who, being well grounded in all the precepts of thoughtlessness, were unable to save themselves by reason.
The consequence was such as to endanger the strike itself. The members of the Central Strike Committee, threatened with disaffection on all sides, began to fear that their movement would collapse ignominiously. Hence they took immediate measures to hit back at the source of their trouble.
It was only about two hours after the little episode between myself and the second Striking Sub-committee, and I was lounging in my chair in the Ventilation Office, finding things becoming just a little boresome. The heavy, languid air, growing hot and foul now that the ventilation had been turned off, was telling upon my nerves; I was getting anxious to go into action again and do something more to end the strike. How I would have welcomed the appearance of another Sub-committee!
But no Sub-committee called. Evidently none could be found to meet me face to face, after the tales of my prowess! Instead, I was startled to hear a rattling sound in a pneumatic tube just to my right, and to note the arrival of a letter in a little steel container, which stated:
"TO WHOMEVER IT MAY CONCERN
"But most of all, to the strikebreaker who has been decimating our men with an army corps of hired thugs.
"We extend our greetings, and suggest that you immediately withdraw your horde of brigands.
"If you do not see fit to comply with this recommendation before the close of the present wake, and to surrender your arms and position, we shall make a complete turnover of you and your men.
"Yours, with many remembrances of the day,
"The Central Striking Committee,
By order of the Grand Commander of the Silver Legion of Wu."
Now I must confess that I read these words not without a shudder. The members of the Silver Legion, having been to war, had had long experience in crime and hence were renowned for the blackness of their deeds; and it seemed possible that they would make good their threat, and, by means of Mulflar, the violet ray, or some other nefarious device, would speedily "turn me over."
However, I had now gone too far to retreat; if I were to die, I would at least die fighting. After thinking the matter over for a few minutes, I came to the conclusion that, as I had little actual power, my only hope lay in a good old-fashioned "bluff."
And so, without further waste of time, I wrote the following message:
"To the Central Striking Committee:
"I thank you for your respected communication, and for your greetings, which I return herewith.
"I beg leave to inform you that I have no intention of withdrawing with my host of patriotic followers. I suggest, for my part, that you send in peace terms and settle the Ventilation Strike immediately.
"Should you not do so, I shall lose no time in giving a manifestation of my wrath.
"Yours, with the utmost courtesy,
"High Chief Commander Citizens' Anti-Strike League."
Having awarded myself this title as a final stroke of genius, I dispatched the letter through a pneumatic tube and sat down to await results.
