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Show Acting Alone Page 387 did he deliver himself up into the hand of Heavenly Father. From that day forward, on through the next several weeks, as he waited for the domestic intelligence computers to sift through enough old buddies, comrades and former associates to hit on just the right one, the Elder had operated almost entirely upon unconscious impulse, letting faith in the Tightness of his own half-formed brainstorm pull him in relaxed alertness from one moment to the next in an effortless state of near-grace. A full state of grace he'd been in as he'd flown north-northeast, for reasons that still hadn't been entirely clear to his conscious mind, to the University of Chicago, to fetch him a special boy, one of Sammy's former - Another gut-tearing scream came across the speakerphone. The Elder jumped a bit in his bed. He must have dozed off. "Sammy, I know you're going to be unhappy about this," the Elder now fairly shouted over the youngster's mad imprecations, "but I am going to have to put you on hold while I answer an emergency call on the other line. Listen to the soothing Bob Dylan religious music, or continue expressing yourself, whichever makes you feel better, and I'll be right back with you in a flash." An especially hideous curse, even for Sammy's lips, concerning the location and present oral occupations and activities of the Elder's recently deceased mother, was clicked away into white noise and replaced by the voice of another equally anomalous, but somehow less interesting young man who preferred to be called, simply, the political theorist. It was no real emergency after all. Simply a typically over-eager, |