“That’s not enough,” said the secretary. “I still have presidential authority to begin troop demobilization. Archie, I want you to tell the twenty-five percent that they’re being mustered out as part of a worldwide force reduction. That’s from the top. Give all of them pay vouchers and military transportation back to Dallas. After that, they’re on their own. I suppose they’ll be able to get on in the new regime, but that’ll take time. In the meantime, we’ve got to get our people all together.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Archie,” the secretary continued, “I will personally take charge of this Western Defense Zone. Soon, I will no longer be secretary of defense. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No problem at all, sir.” The general was silent for a moment. “Sir, we’re isolated. We lack many things. It may be like the Alamo all over again. But if we don’t resist here and now, there will be nobody left to do it. So I am with you. Let’s do it!”

They clasped hands in friendship. “With God’s help we will win,” Al whispered.

AFTER THE INCIDENT WITH James Wong, Mark Beaulieu was never the same again. The execution had the desired effect. Instantly all men and women, not only in that crowd in Babylon but also in every nation and every town, bowed to the powerful god-man who now seemed to hold the destiny of the world in the palm of his hand. He was celebrated and praised by both high and low, but the veneration he received gave him no peace. The human part of him had entered its own private hell. Night after night, Satan would rage within him. He would walk the rooms of his palace screaming and crying out in agony. He could never rest.

In public, especially on his worldwide television broadcasts, the world saw only the handsome face of their leader. But when he was alone, his expression would change. His face was drawn and contorted, and the rage that welled up inside him was that of Satan himself. His countenance was hideous beyond comprehension.

Alone, raging through the halls of his great capital, he would smash priceless pieces of furniture and hurl objects at subordinates who displeased him. And they all displeased him. Relief came momentarily whenever he could witness the agonizing torture and death of some helpless individual who refused to worship him or to acknowledge his power. His beautiful palace became a charnel house of horror. First, there were tens, then hundreds, then thousands whose screams and cries bore witness to the satanic cruelty that now ruled the world.

During most of his life, Mark Beaulieu had been celibate. He was not homosexual. He was not heterosexual. He simply was nonsexual. His lifestyle was neither ascetic nor particularly carnal. Rather, he was entirely dedicated to another calling.