We stopped at the second grand level into which I was ushered. I looked out over what seemed to be a new world with more light and more animation than was manifest on the first level.
Boisterous demonstrations were heard on every hand, all made more hideous by the variety of evil spirits who added their din to the general bedlam. “What furious world is this?” I shouted.
“This is Satan’s political headquarters, and the place where his state laws are made. We are here connected with every state or divisional government in the world, and with every political movement that can be influenced by these underground voices.”
My indignation leaped over all bounds as the vileness of these iniquitous schemes pressed upon me. I heard the bands of music from those who had prostituted their talent to the second level.
Blackana pushed me on through all the demonstrations, and then led me into a great structure more secluded than the electrical stations. Here the state laws are hatched, but, thanks to a higher sanctum, not all the brood see daylight.
The plotters of Hell sat in this underground legislative centre, and I saw, to my horror, some state legislators occupying seats in this infamous quarter.
Then said I to Blackana: “It is no more a mystery to me how so much of Hell is incorporated into the laws of the states in the country where I hold residence, as well as in all other parts of the world. How long have these things been?”
“Since the beginning of law,” was his indifferent reply.
“It will not be so forever,” I prophesied under a sudden spell of inspiration. “The time must come when the power of this level will be blasted forever. The owner of the tree will burn the worms and their nests from every branch.”
Then said Blackana tauntingly: “Neither flood, poison, fire, nor knife can ever destroy this section.” Just as he spoke these words the whole edifice shook, and I heard a noise as if a shower of great stones had crashed into the roof and sides of the building. The legislators quaked with fear and all looked toward the ceiling. All of this instantly reminded me of the thousand lords who looked at the ominous handwriting on the wall at the feast of Belshazzar.