Warlock - The Warlock Unlocked Part 6

"Yes; they only worry about religion when it begins to affect sales," Father Vidicon said thoughtfully. "So I take it Your Holiness will appear about two p. m.?"

"Which is early morning in Chicago, yes. Other countries have agreed to record the speech, and replay it at a more suitable hour. It'll go by satellite, of course..."

"As long as we pay for it."

"Naturally. And if there's any failure of transmission at our end, the networks are not liable to give us postponed time."

"Your Holiness!" Father Vidicon threw his arms wide. "You wound me! Of course I'll see to it there's no transmission error!"

"No offense intended, Father Vidicon-but I'm rather aware that the transmitter I've given you isn't exactly the most recent model."

"What can you expect, from donations? Besides, Your Holiness, British Marconi made excellent transmitters in 1990! No, Italy and Southern France will receive us perfectly. But it would help if you could invest in a few spare parts for the converter that feeds the satellite ground station..."

"Whatever that may be. Buy whatever you need, Father Vidicon. Just be certain our signal is transmitted. You may go now."

"Don't worry, Your Holiness! Your voice shall be heard, and your face be seen, even though the Powers of Darkness rise up against me!"

"Including Maxwell's Demon?" His Holiness said dourly. "And the Imp of the Perverse?"

"Don't worry, Your Holiness." Father Vidicon made a circle of his thumb and middle finger. "I've dealt with them before."

" 'The good souls flocked like homing doves,' " Father Vidicon sang, "or they will after they've heard our Pope's little talk." He closed the access panel of the transmitter. "There! Every part certified in the green! I've even dusted every circuit board... How's that backup transmitter, Brother Anson?"

"I've replaced two I.C. chips so far," Brother Anson answered from the bowels of the ancient device. "Not that -'.

t ley were bad, you understand-but I had my doubts."

"I'll never question a Franciscan's hunches." Father Vid-i on laced his fingers across his midriff and sat back. "Did j 3U check the converter to the ground station?"

" 'Converter?' " Brother Anson's head and shoulders't merged, covered with dust.

"You mean that huge resistor in tie gray box?"

Father Vidicon nodded. "The very one."

"A bit primitive, isn't it?"

Father Vidicon shrugged. "There isn't time to get a proper (ne, now-and it's all

they've given me money for, ever's nee I was 'promoted' to Chief Engineer. Besides, all we r zally need to do is to drop our 50,000-watt transmitter signal ( own to something the ground station can handle."

Brother Anson shrugged. "If you say so, Father. I should i link that would kick

up a little interference, though.""Well, we can't be perfect-not on the kind of budget "e're given, anyhow. Just keep reminding yourself, Brother,'t lat most of our flock still live in poverty; they need a bowl of i lillet more than a clear picture."

"I can't argue with that. Anyway, I did check the resistor. . ust how many ohms does it provide, anyway?"

"About as many as you do, Brother. How'd it test out?"

"Fine, Father. It's sound."

"Or will be, till we go on the air." Father Vidicon nodded. 'Well, I've got two spares handy. Let the worst that can I appen, happen! I'm more perverse than

Murphy!"

The door slammed open, and the Monsignor was leaning gainst the jamb.

"Father... Vidicon!" he panted. "It's . . catastrophe!"

"Murphy," Brother Anson muttered; but Father Vidicon vas on his feet. "What is

it, Monsignor? What's hap-.ened?"

"Reverend Sun! He discovered the Pope's plans, and has alked the U.N. into scheduling his speech for Friday morn-ng!"

Father Vidicon stood, galvanized for a second. Then he snapped, "The networks!

Can they air His Holiness early?"

"Cardinal Beluga's on three phones now, trying to patch it together! If he brings it off, can you be ready?"

"Oh, we can be ready!" Father Vidicon glanced at the clock. "Thursday, 4 pm.

We need an hour. Any time after that, Monsignor."

"Bless you!" the Monsignor turned away. "I'll tell His Holiness."

"Come on, Brother Anson." Father Vidicon advanced on the backup transmitter,

catching up his toolkit. "Let's get this beast back on line!"

"Five minutes till air!" the Monsignor's voice rasped over the intercom. "Make it good, reverend gentlemen! Morning shows all over the world are giving us

fifteen minutes-but not a second longer! And Reverend Sun's coming right

behind us, live from the U.N.!"

Father Vidicon and Brother Anson were on their knees, hands clasped. Father Vidicon intoned, "Saint Clare, patron of television..."

"... pray for us," finished Brother Anson.

"Saint Genesius, patron of showmen..."

"One minute!" snapped the Monsignor. "Roll and record!"

"... pray for us," murmured Brother Anson.

"Rolling and recording," responded the recording engineer.

"Saint Jude, patron of lost causes..."

"... pray for us," Brother Anson finished fervently.

"Slate it!" Then, "Bars and tone!"

They could hear the thousand-cycle test tone in the background, whining. Then it

began beeping at one-second intervals.

"Ready mike and cue, ready up on one!"

"Five!" called the a.s.sistant director. "Four! Three!"

"Black! Clip tone!" the Monsignor cried. "Mike him! Cue him! Up on One!"

Television screens all over the world lit up with the grave but faintly-smiling image of the Pope. "Dearly beloved in Christ..."

The picture flickered.

Father Vidicon darted a glance at the converter. Its tally light was dead. Beside it, the light glowed atop the back-up converter.

"Quick! The big one died!" Father Vidicon yanked open the top of the long gray box and wrenched out the burned-out resistor.

"There are a few points of theology on which we can't agree with Reverend Sun," His Holiness was saying. "Foremost among these is his concept of the Trinity. We just can't agree that Reverend Sun is himself the third Person, the 'younger son'of G.o.d..."

Brother Anson slapped the spare resistor into Father Vidicon's palm.

"... nor is the sharing of a marijuana cigarette a valid form of wors.h.i.+p, in the Church's eyes," the Pope went on. "But the Council does agree that..."

The screen went dark.

Father Vidicon shoved the spare into its clips and threw the routing switch.

The screen glowed again. "... have always been implicit in Catholic doctrine," His Holiness was saying, "but the time has come to state their implications. First among these is the notion of 'levels of reality.' Everything that exists is real; but G.o.d is the Source of reality, as He is the Source of everything. And the metaphor of 'the breath of G.o.d' for the human soul means that..."

"Yes, it's gone." Father Vidicon yanked the burned-out resistor out of the backup. "The manufacturers must think they can foist off all their defectives on the Church." Brother Anson took the lump of char and gave him a new resistor. "That's our last spare, Father Vidicon."

Father Vidicon shoved it into its clips. "What're the odds against three of these blowing in a s.p.a.ce of ten minutes?"

"Gunderson's Corollary," Brother Anson agreed.

Father Vidicon slapped, down the cover. "We're up against perversity, Brother Anson."

The tally blinked out on the main converter as the little red light on the back-up glowed into life.

"We're out of spares," Brother Anson groaned.