Authors: Jack Womack
"The Elvies are borderlined when it comes to dissemination," Malloy continued. "And again, many of the believers
forswear worldly goods, save for their diskers. Cathode
charms leave them unperturbed."
"Posters have their purpose, Isabel, as I told," Leverett
said, his smile something more than fulsome. "You've not
done this long as I have, otherwise there'd have been no
questioning."
"What are those?" I asked. Two islands emerged from the
traffic's river ahead of us, separated by no more than a
hundred meters. Stranded on each isle were what appeared
to be topiaried giraffes, twenty times lifesize; the nearest
one's broken neck dangled over the cars and buses alongsiding, held placed by a netting of cables.
"St. Mary-le-Strand and St. Clement Danes," said Malloy. "Impossible to enter due to the unending vehicular flow.
Preserved by Historical Accuracy, as ever." Each church was
fenced round by crumpled steel walls; however protected
from collision they might have been at streetlevel, their
spires evidenced as fair sport for wayward cabs shooting past.
"Terrible accident, that was," Malloy said, nodding toward
the downdipped steeple. "The blood. Awful, just awful."
Vines so well as cables helped position the damage; their
leafy coils greened each church from foundation to cross,
smothering the stone beneath. "The foliage was sold to the
Historical Accuracy Council as impatiens," Malloy added.
"Proved later to be a kudzu hybrid. That accounts for the
AfterLondon look."
"What's minded, Elvis?" Leverett asked, slapping what he
took to be E's leg. What part of E was where was not immediately discernible; he was wrapped head to foot in an allcovering cloak which he drew tight around himself.
"Lemme be," he answered. "Where are we?"
"Nearly there," said Malloy. "Look there, will you, at the
splendor of mighty Albion." The last-century boxes formerly
surrounding St. Paul's had been taken down years before; so
isolated, the cathedral appeared ten times larger than it
truly was. Its stone was illuminated from without; whitebright spots directed onto the dome impressed its look as
that of a new moon rising from the city's black sea. From
Ludgate Hill to the portico steps searchlights were rowed in
doubts lines, their shafts heaven-aimed, forming skyceil-
inged walls between which the congregation assembled.
"Positively Blakean. Shills of mine are responsible for their
using the searchlights this time out, mind you. They're generally a bit more understated, left to their own."
Through the roof I saw naught but blanketing clouds;
gripped Malloy's arm as our car grounded with a bump,
leaving Fleet Street. "What sort of environad's intended,
Leverett?" I asked.
"One that'll work," he said, chewing at his mouthcorner as if he hungered overmuch to wait for dinner afterward.
John glanced back toward us, resteering his glance after he
caught my look. The driver guided our car into a secured
area south of the cathedral; a column of bobbies allowed us
to pass, and we stopped at the side of a dry fountain. Our
parked viewpoint showed the throng shadowed, appearing
as a bed of ivy visibly acrawl.
"That's impassable, Leverett," I said, examining the
crowd. Malloy's estimates underestimated; no less than a
hundred thousand gathered to cry for their King. "How's
the church to be reached?"
"I've arranged for two representatives of ours to meet us
at the edge of the group and guide us through," said Malloy,
unbuckling as he prepped to disembark. "Not guide so
much as hack a path across, more like."
"They lead us to the building," said Leverett, "then we
come around front behind the speakers, arriving, so long as
our timing holds, at precisely the key moment. Ready, driver.
Unseal us, please."
The locks slid into their housings; we opened the doors
and got out, shading our eyes with our hands as we looked
toward the searchlit cathedral. "What'll blind their security
to our presence?" I asked.
"They have none," Leverett said, laughing as he and Malloy extracted E from the car, tucking his wrap around him
in order to keep him incognitoed. "In any event all'll be
preoccupied, guaranteed. Elvis, time now. This is something
you should hear."
As we stood there beneath the cathedral's snowbright
mountain, eyeing its dome aglowing night into day, glancing leftward into the approach's Nuremberg light, we heard
the crowd voicing song, singing the assembly's prelude.
"Love Me Tender," acapellaed by a hundred thousand,
stunned as I'd never imagined it could; through their
massed chorusing the King's followers let drop their bodies,
guised or not, and took on an ethereality that, at last, equaled their beliefs to those of any religion. Within the
throng were a number of Interpreters, appearing as nightsky
stars against black heaven; closer in, I could distinguish
younger participants who'd bedecked themselves in Sun
style, simulating the look of E so well as he simulated the
look of Elvis. Most of those present appeared, even after
prolonged examination, no different than any citizens of
London or New York.
"Understandable now, Elvis?" Leverett asked as they sang
their final chorus. E pulled his cloak around his face, and
stepped closer to me. I put my arm around him, holding his
garment tight; reached into my bag, and felt my compact
there. Removing my look from the crowd I found myself
staring directly into John's, who eyed us as if he'd at last
found the conclusive evidence he'd long sought.
"It's pretty," E said. "I-"
"It's for you," said Leverett. "All for you." Reaching into
his jacket, he removed a phone; drew up its antenna and
spoke into its mouthpiece. "Undertake procedure A." Pocketing it again, he turned to us, and nodded heavenward.
"Look."
We lifted our heads, staring at the clouds directly above
the cathedral as they commenced to move, swirling as if
Godness Herself stirred them, whirlpooling enough that a
tremendous circle of strata soon detached itself from its
enveloping banks, lowered several dozen meters and continued to spin. Malloy led us forward, taking a phone of his
own from his pocket, staring up all the while as we crossed
the plaza, bearing toward the crowd. A few among their
number began taking notice of what ensued overhead, and
pointed upward. Openings broke in the circle's middle,
which now appeared to remain placed while the outer rim
continued to spin. Many more in the assemblage saw what
onwent, and their murmurs rose as hurricane-surf. By the
time we reached the edge of the crowd, all were staring upward, looking beyond the searchlights. Malloy spoke into
his phone.
"Execute procedure B, please," he said. "Now!"
As he worded, the searchlights shut off; the cathedral
remained lit, appearing to shine all the brighter. A beacon
affixed upon the dome's lantern came on, its beam fixed
heavenward and revealing in full the face of Dryco. The
crowd gasped; made no greater noise than that disturbing,
and continuous, rumble. Two blackclad gentlemen stepped
away from the multitude; Malloy greeted them, and turned
toward us. "I'll wait here," he said. "I've had my share of risk
in my lifetime, and would prefer to observe from afar. All's
set from here."
"Proceed, then," Leverett told the men, who nodded and
began unobtrusively pushing a route through the crowd. He
and John grasped E's arms, and started moving him forward.
"Come on, Isabel-"
"Luck be with you, El," Malloy said; looked down at me,
and smiled. "You, too."
While we followed the men leading us, careful not to call
greater attention to ourselves than was possible, someone
came onto the portico to address the crowd; though he
wasn't visible from where we were, the speakers set up
around the cathedral must have carried his voice across the
East End.
"E," the man called out. "Hear us, E."
The clouds above began making their own murmurs, as if
to growl at all those below; flashes gave life to the logoed
eyes and brightened the circle's whirling edges. As we
reached the cathedral walls, keeping close against them as
we stepped over cables and boxes and those who'd taken
positions sans view, I felt drops spatter against my arms. The
sky thunderclapped all the more loudly. "It's raining, Leverett," I said. "That's intended?"
Reaching behind E, he tapped my husband's shoulder,
and nodded in my direction. "Quiet your wife," he said. John stopped, and turned as if to confront me; I'd already
circumvented him, pushing forward so as to alongside myself next to Leverett. My husband said nothing as he stepped
next to me; I realized that, unconsciously, I'd muffed my
ears with my hands. As I let my arms drop to my sides,
unwilling to overreact where any might see, I felt a tug on my
earring, as if it were snagged on something; circling quickly,
I saw John pull his fingers away, and smile.
"E," the man at the podium continued to call out; the
audience hummed, seemingly, in response. "We want you.
We need you. We love you. Hear us, E-"
A sound of rustling paper came from far overhead, its
crackle counterpointing thunder and drone. Seeing the
lightning-lit face looming above as before when I glanced
up, I spied as well blue flames flickering round the facade's
twin spires, St. Elmo alicking their apexed crosses and the
pediment's statues.
"We were worldscattered. In E we unite. Through E we go
forth. With E we conquer. Hear us, E-"
Our leaders directed us to a door located in the base of
the stairway, secluded from audience-view by a wall of carsize speakers; without word we entered, following their steps,
passing quickly through a marble antechamber before ascending a stairway's iron coils. At its head was another door;
we stepped through as our guides opened it for us, coming
out onto the portico's left side, behind another cluster of
speakers. The man addressing the Elvii stood at the podium,
some ten meters away, shouting as if to drive away the rain.
"Time comes." The speakers so amplified his words, and
we stood so close to their horns, that his phrases earstruck
me as if they were long pins driven into my head. "We call
for you now as we always have. As we always will. Return to
us tonight. Return. Hear us, E-"
Our guides absented themselves, returning the way we
came. John took up a position near me, his look evidencing
that he had distanced; as if, however unintentionally, he had begun concentrating too keenly on past, rather than present. "Your cue," Leverett said, shouting loud enough that
we could hear. "Ready?"
"If I have to-" E said.
"What's done is done," Leverett said, lifting his phone.
"Now do."
"Hear us, E," said the man at the podium. "Answer."
"Procedure C," said Leverett, voicing into the receiver.
"Engage."
Mayhap the man noticed his hair lifting, as if breezed,
away from his neck, as I felt mine grow staticky; possibly
tingles suddenly traveled from his fingertips, up his arms.
Something awared him, and he leapt back from the podium;
no sooner did he move than a bolt shot down from cloud to
church, blasting the spot where he'd stood, charging the air.
Simultaneously the searchlights came on, sending their
shafts skyways once more.
"Go!" Leverett shouted. John tossed a capsule at the podium which flashed sunbright when it landed. E dropped his
wrap from his shoulders, revealing his regooded jumpsuit:
its lines were retailored to better fit his frame, and its fabric
was white, rather than yellow; our logo showed upon it fore
and aft as before. Running across, he passed through the
cloud rising from the blistered stone just as the rain dissipated its mist. His people, initially, stood responseless,
quieting so absolutely that, for long instants, all we heard
was rain beating against the church, drumming against their
coats. Once they realized whom it was they sighted, they
connected, crying so loud as to push cheer into scream. E
paused expressionless at the podium as the people's noise
grew louder, increasing so as to deafen all other sound.
Then he raised his right hand; they silenced, as if unplugged. The searchlights blanked again. Careful not to
touch the podium, he leaned forward into the mike and
began his unaccompanied song.
"Mine eyes have seen the coming''
More than the searchlights had blanked, I realized; the
whole of the city had gone out, totaling all in darkness.
Sporadic lightning strobed the scene. "Volume," Leverett
was saying into his phone. "What happened? Where's the
volume?"
=of the glory of the Lord-" E's voice wobbled as he
phrased the second line.
"Nobody's hearing him!" Leverett shouted. "Electrify. Action! What do you mean, it's knackered-?"
E muted, and stared at his silent onlookers. The sky cloudburst; rain pelted so hard as to soak him. His hair matted
against his face; his collar collapsed under water's weight.
Removing his shades, he slung them into the crowd. No one
jumped to catch for them as they flew; no one lunged to
seize them, once they landed.
"What are you doing to me?" Leverett said, screaming
into his phone. "You can't-"
"Faker!" someone shouted. "Ta'e a malky to 'im," another said. "Vegassene!" a woman cried. "American!!"
Those frontlined started surging forward, attempting to
crash the impromptu defense line that formed itself; some
of Malloy's men, undoubted, doing what they could to forestall, if not prevent, harm. Pocket-size soundsystems hailed
onto the portico's steps as those farther back made clear
their intentions. E backed away from the podium; turned,
and ran toward me. I couldn't tell whether rain or tears most
wet his face. John stepped between us as he approached,
disallowing any embrace. When E tried asiding him, my
husband throated him with his hands, shaking his head as if
to detach it. Careless of his reaction, I struck John in the
back of his neck; he loosed E, and I pulled him toward me.