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Show Acting Alone Page 374 go flush it from your system with good hard work. It's the best nerve-relaxant on the face of God's green earth, son, good hard work. Maybe you'll be able to persuade the doctor to help you go to sleep afterwards." Elder Cicerone had felt compelled to provide his young friend with a personal physician, to live with him there in the temporary suite of offices at the top of the Holly Sugar Building. The youngster's body was not in the best of conditions these days, and a qualified MD was needed to keep an eye on him in case he required emergency hospitalization, and to provide injections of antibiotics and other special medications to stave off that eventuality for as long as possible, or necessary. The Elder propped his head up a little higher on his cool pillow. With one eye he looked out the large French windows of his temporary luxury quarters here in the Broadmoor Hotel, out across the giant ravines, toward downtown Colorado Springs. In a pair of windows at the top of the highest building, a couple of lights could be made out; and, either in reality or in his imagination, the Elder thought he could see the green glowing squared-circle of a word-processor screen in one of those windows. How perfectly strange to be working toward the same ends with the person who ranted and screamed and burned with controlled fever in that suite of offices tonight. Elder Cicerone's attention had first been attracted to this boy, this young Epic Poet of the Apocalypse, by old Senator Nimrod of the Great State of Utah - the Elder's own official state of residence ever since the church had drawn him west. Senator Nimrod, a good brother of the church, had called wanting the Elder's assistance in "dis-obligating" a certain celebrity type, |