"He's even departing from his text. Damn him," McClennan shouted, sitting with a bounce on the bed next to Hicks. "Doesn't he understand what he's unleashing? What social—"

"Please," Hicks admonished.

"I can only conclude that in some fashion, our history on Earth has been judged, and we have been found inadequate. Whether the flaw lies in our bodies, or in our minds, it is clear that the history of human existence does not satisfy the Creator, and that He is working to wipe the slate clean, and begin again. To do this, He has sent mighty machines, mighty forces which could begin, at any moment, to heat this Earth in God's forge, and beat it to pieces on a heavenly anvil."

The President paused again. Raised voices on the floor of Congress threatened to drown him out, and the Speaker had to rap his gavel many long minutes. The camera pulled back to show Crockerman surrounded by a phalanx of Secret Service men, their faces grim, trying to look in all directions at once.

"Please," the President pleaded. "I must conclude."

The noise finally subsided. Sporadic shouts of anger and disbelief rose from the representatives.

"I can only say to my people, and the inhabitants of Earth, that the time has come for us all to pray fervently for salvation, in whatever form it might come, whether we can expect it or not, or even whether we truly deserve salvation. The Forge of God cannot be appeased, but perhaps there is hope for each of us, in our private thoughts, to make peace with God, and find a way out from under the blows of His anger and disappointment."

Sitting in the airport lounge, a woman weeping softly beside him, several men loudly arguing with each other and the television screen, Arthur Gordon could only think of Francine and Martin.

"All hell's going to break loose," a bulky middle-aged black man shouted as he stalked out of the lounge.

"We'd better not fly now," a young man told the pregnant girl, hardly more than a teenager, sitting next to him. "They should ground all flights."

Trying to stay calm, angry at how deeply the speech had affected him, Arthur made his way through the morning crowds to an airline counter to again check his reservations to Las Vegas.

McClennan had stopped his tirade of swearing and now stood by the blank television, fumbling at a cigarette and lighter. He still wore his raincoat. Hicks had not moved from the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry," McClennan said. "Christ, I haven't smoked in five years. I'm a goddamned disgrace."

"What will you do, now that you've resigned?" Hicks asked. What an amazing situation. Straight inside line on this story.