"I'd like to move that we accept the slate of ad hoc committee members in toto as the Permanent Committee. If they'll serve, that is." Harold sat down.
There was a moment of silence. Stu thought crazily: Toto? Toto? Wasn't that the dog in The Wizard of Oz?
Then the applause swelled out again, filling the room, and dozens of cries of "I second!" rang out. Harold was sitting placidly in his seat again, smiling and talking to the people who were thumping him on the back.
Stu brought his gavel doyen half a dozen times for order.
He planned this, Stu thought. These people are going to elect us, but it's Harold they'll remember. Still, he got to the root of the thing in a way none of us thought of, not even Glen. It was pretty damn near a stroke of genius. So why should he be so upset? Was he jealous, maybe? Were his good resolutions about Harold, made only the day before yesterday, already going by the boards?
"There's a motion on the floor," he blared into the mike, ignoring the feedback whine this time. "Motion on the floor, folks!" He pounded the gavel and they quieted to a low babble. "It's been moved and seconded that we accept the ad hoc committee just as it stands as the Permanent Free Zone Committee. Before we go to a discussion of the motion or to a vote, I ought to ask if anyone now serving on the committee has an objection or would like to step down."
Silence from the floor.
"Very well," Stu said. "Discussion of the motion?"
"I don't think we need any, Stu," Dick Ellis said. "It's a grand idea. Let's vote!"
Applause greeted this, and Stu needed no further urging. Charlie Impening was waving his hand to be recognized, but Stu ignored him - a good case of selective perception, Glen Bateman would have said - and called the question.
"Those in favor of Harold Lauder's motion please signify by saying aye."
"Aye!! " they bellowed, sending the barnswallows into another frenzy.
"Opposed?"
But no one was, not even Charlie Impening - at least, vocally. There was not a nay in the chamber. So Stu pushed on to the next item of business, feeling slightly dazed, as if someone - namely, Harold Lauder - had crept up behind him and clopped him one on the head with a large sledgehammer made out of Silly Putty.
"Let's get off and push them awhile, want to?" Fran asked. She sounded tired.
"Sure." He got off his bike and walked along beside her. "You okay, Fran? The baby bothering?"
"No. I'm just tired. It's quarter of one in the morning, or hadn't you noticed?"
"Yeah, it's late," Stu agreed, and they pushed their bikes side by side in companionable silence. The meeting had gone on until an hour ago, most of the discussion centering on the search-party for Mother Abagail. The other items had all passed with a minimum of discussion, although Judge Farris had provided a fascinating piece of information that explained why there were so relatively few bodies in Boulder. According to the last four issues of the Camera, Boulder's daily newspaper, a wild rumor had swept the community, a rumor that the superflu had originated in the Boulder Air Testing facility on Broadway. Spokesmen for the center - the few still on their feet - protested that it was utter nonsense, and anyone who doubted it was free to tour the facility, where they would find nothing more dangerous than air pollution indicators and wind-vectoring devices. In spite of this, the rumor persisted, probably fed by the hysterical temper of those terrible days in late June. The Air Testing Center had been either bombed or burned, and much of Boulder's population had fled.
Both the Burial Committee and the Power Committee had been passed with an amendment from Harold Lauder - who had seemed almost awesomely prepared for the meeting - to the effect that each committee be increased by two for each increase of one hundred in the total Free Zone population.