Chapter Forty-Four.
Andie arrived at the Eagle Trace Motel in Yakima just before eight o'clock on Tuesday evening. She went straight to a room called the governor's hall, which had nothing to do with the governor. It was just an impressive-sounding name for an unimpressive meeting room.
There was a slight backup at the door. A young woman was passing out pamphlets to each person as they entered. Andie was fifth in line. It moved quickly.
"Welcome," said the woman. "Please sit anywhere you'd like."
Andie took the pamphlet and went inside. It was an unadorned room. No artwork on the walls. Basic beige carpeting. She counted twenty rows of folding chairs, ten on each side with an aisle down the center. About half the seats were filled with adults of all ages, about an equal number of men and women. Some were dressed as Andie was, as though they didn't have much in life. Others wore the kind of clothes Andie might wear in real life. Some had come as couples, but it seemed most had come alone. Very few were talking to each other. Most had left an empty seat between them and the nearest person.
Andie sat on the far right side on the very end about halfway toward the front. An old man was seated to her left. He looked straight ahead at the podium, though no one was there. Andie removed her coat, folded it in her lap, and read the pamphlet the girl had given her at the door. It was simply a reprint of the flyer that had been tacked to the pole outside Mrs. Rankin's store.
In bold letters it read, "Tap the untapped energy within and around you." That sounded innocuous enough. It went on: "If you have ever entertained the idea that humans can indeed acquire the kind of energy that is necessary to transition to a level beyond human, you will want to attend this gathering."
Any doubt as to the true purpose of the meeting was eliminated by the fine print: "This is not a religious or philosophical organization recruiting membership."
Right. And the Congress was not controlled by special interests.
Straight up at eight o'clock, the doors closed. The lights dimmed. The crowd fell silent. From the back of the room, a beam of light blazed over the audience and illuminated the podium. It cast a faint circle of light at first, but it grew stronger as the ambient lighting continued to dim. It was like watching the moon rise, *a white ball of light rising over the podium, shining brilliantly against the reflective backdrop. In a matter of moments the audience was shrouded in total darkness. The white globe around the podium was the only light.
Without warning, the spotlight went out. The room was black. Just as suddenly the light returned. It cut like a laser through the darkness and shined on the man who had almost magically appeared behind the podium. He stood with arms outstretched and his head tilted back, his eyes to the ceiling. He brought the microphone to his mouth and shouted in a deep, resounding voice, "I am the god of hell fire, and I bring you . . . fire!"
Music erupted from the large speakers in the back. It was the 1968 rock 'n' roll smash by the Crazy World of Arthur Brown, with its shrill organ music and swift beat.
He sang of fire and burning in a voice that sounded almost demonic. The man at the podium moved not an inch, frozen in the light. The music pounded for another ten seconds and was building to a crescendo. Then it ended abruptly with the sound of a phonograph needle scratching on vinyl.
The lights came on. The music wasg one. The room was back to normal. The bemused man at the podium stood with his hands at his sides. A handsome man, not much older than Andie.
"I am the god of hell fire?" he asked incredulously. A smile crept to his lips. "I don't think so."
A few members of the audience chuckled uneasily.
"Had you all going there for a moment, though, didn't I?" He approached an elderly couple in the front row and said playfully, "Come on, admit it. I saw you kind of lean into your wife and mutter between your teeth: 'Get your purse, Ethyl, the man's a lunatic.'"
The old man laughed. Others laughed with him. "What's your name, sir?"
"Bob."
He shook his hand. "Good to meet you, Bob. My name's Steven Blechman." He smiled and returned to the podium. "And I am not a god. And this meeting is not about hell fire. In fact, it has absolutely nothing to do with what I am. It's about you and the direction of your life." He let the words hang for effect, then added, "And there is' nothing more important than that."
Andie watched carefully, listened to his every word. He was a curious blend of television evangelist and stand-up comedian. Riveting. Captivating.
"I'm curious. Does anyone here believe there is energy in the universe?"
A few people answered, "Yes."
"Come on. All of you believe that. The stars shine. The planets rotate. Comets soar. There is energy."