“Quite all right,” says Abelman, coming around to the front of the board so T.K. can see him directly. “What I have to say won’t take long. You can listen to me and continue with your exercises at the same time.”

Seeing no way out, T.K. nods.

“I have some information that will, without a doubt, convince you to change your mind, to immediately speak out publicly against IBC.” He moves in as close to T.K. as he can get, remaining just outside the radius of T.K.’s pumping arms. “I have heard a rumor,” he says conspiratorially, convinced of his new argument’s ultimate persuasiveness. “I’ll be brutally frank and to the point with you. This rumor suggests that you are to be killed in Killerbowl XXI. IBC has it completely arranged.”

While T.K. has already guessed as much, to have it confirmed does, nonetheless, upset his concentration momentarily. Only to the extent that he loses count of his repetitions and has to begin his sequence all over. To an observer, the comment doesn’t appear to have fazed him in the slightest.

Aghast at T.K.’s apparently callous acceptance of so shocking an assertion, Abelman continues with a good deal less presumption. “This abominable act is to insure you will not have the opportunity to come forth after the game. In light of this, I urge you to reconsider your earlier decision. Come forward now.”

Without breaking rhythm, T.K. shakes his head.

Abelman straightens up, shocked disbelief on his face. “I can’t even pretend to understand your logic in this matter, Mr. Mann. Your self-centered view of reality. You’re not immortal. If they say they’re going to kill you, they will.” He moves behind the board so he can, using the overhead mirror, look T.K. directly in the face. “Since there seems to be nothing more I can possibly tell you that might influence you, I’ll take my leave. Goodbye, Mr. Mann. And good luck. I sincerely believe you’ll need it.”

Shoulders sunken, head bowed, Abelman shambles out the door.

In the overhead mirror, T.K. watches him go, honestly sorry for him, for the ridicule he’s undergone, for the sense of utter defeat he must now be feeling. T.K. wishes he could tell him how close, how very close Abelman is to achieving his goal. Not before the Killerbowl, no, but then, not after it, either. During. T.K. plans to do his utmost to see that Senator Abelman has his objectives fulfilled during the Killerbowl, on nationwide television, in full color, before what may well turn out to be the largest audience of all time.

14

The Economics of Killerbowl XXI