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As the booming voice cut in again, Humphrey said resignedly, "Finish your

point of order, but quickly, please."

"You may not know it, Mr. Chairman, but even this second ball is now

jampacked and there are many stockholders outside who cannot get into

either one. I am speaking on their behalf because they are being deprived

of their legal rights."

"No," Humphrey acknowledged, "I did not know it. I am genuinely sorry and

I concede our preparations were inadequate."

A woman in the ballroom stood up and cried, "You should all resign! You

can't even organize an annual meeting."

Other voices echoed, "Yes, resignl Resigni"

Eric Humphrey's lips tightened; for a moment, uncharacteristically, he

appeared nervous. Then, with an obvious effort, he controlled himself and

tried again. "Today's attendance, as many of you know, is unprecedented."

A strident voice: "So was cutting off our dividends!"

"I can only tell you-I had intended to say this later but I'll state it

now-that omission of our dividend was an action which I and my fellow

directors took with great reluctance . . ."

The voice again: "Did you try cutting your own fat salary?"

". . . and with full awareness," Humphrey persisted, "of the unhappiness,

indeed hardship, which . . ."

Several things then happened simultaneously.

A large, soft tomato, unerringly aimed, struck the chairman in the face. It

burst, leaving a mess of pulp and juice which dripped down his face, suit

and shirtfront.

As if on signal, a barrage of more tomatoes and several eggs followed,

splattering the stage and the chairman's podium. Many in the ballroom

audience jumped to their feet; a few were laughing but others, looking

around them for the throwers, appeared shocked and disapproving. At

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the same time a new disturbance could be heard, with raised voices growing

in volume, immediately outside.

Nim, also on his feet near the center of the ballroom where be bad gone

when the management group occupied the platform, was searching for the

source of the fusillade, ready to intervene if be could find it. Almost at

once he saw Davey Birdsong. As be had been doing earlier, the p & lfp

leader was speaking into a walkie-talkie; Nim guessed that he was giving

orders. Nim tried to push his way toward Birdsong but found it impossible.

By now the scene in the ballroom was one of total confusion.

Abruptly Nim found himself face to face with Nancy Molineaux. For an

instant she betrayed uncertainty.

His anger flared. "I suppose you're loving all of this so you can write

about us as viciously as usual."

"I just try to be factual, Goldman." Her self-assurance returning, Ms.

Molineaux smiled. "I do investigative reporting where I think it's needed."

"Yeah, investigative, meaning one-sided, slanted!" Impulsively he pointed

across the room to Davey Birdsong and his walkie-talkie. "Why not

investigate him?"

"Give me one good reason why I should."

I believe he's creating a disturbance here."

"Do you know he is?"

Nim admitted, "No."

"Then let me tell you something. Whether he helped or not, this disturbance

happened because a lot of people believe that Golden State Power & Light

isn't being run the way it should be. Or don't you ever face reality?"

With a contemptuous glance at Nim, Nancy Molineaux moved away.

Then the noise outside increased still further and, adding to the ballroom

shambles, a phalanx of newcomers pushed their way in. Behind them were

still more people, among them bearers of antiGSP & L signs and placards.

What bad happened-as became clear later-was that a few individuals among

those shareholders denied access to both halls had urged others to join

them in using force to enter the ballroom. Together they had shoved aside

temporary barriers and ovenvbelmed the security guards and other GSP & L

staff.

At virtually the same moment the crowd of demonstrators in the hotel

forecourt had rushed the police lines and this time broken them. The

demonstrators poured into the hotel, heading for the ballroom, where they

reinforced the invading shareholders.

As Nim suspected but could not prove, Davey Birdsong orchestrated all

movements, beginning with the tomato throwing, by issuing com-

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mands through the walkie-talkie. As well as arranging the forecourt

demonstration, the p&lfp had infiltrated the shareholders' meeting by the

simple-and legitimate-device of having a dozen of its members, including

Birdsong, purchase single shares of GSP&L stock several months earlier.

In the ensuing turmoil only a few heard J. Eric Humphrey announce over

the PA system, "This meeting stands recessed. It will resume in

approximately half an hour."

6

In the living room of her apartment Karen bestowed on Nim the same radiant

smile he remembered so well from their previous encounter. Then she said

sympathetically, "I know this week has been difficult for you. I read

about your company's annual meeting and saw some of it on television."

Instinctively Nim grimaced. The TV coverage had concentrated on riotous

aspects, ignoring the complex issues aired during five hours of

business-questions, discussion, voting on resolutions-which had followed

the enforced recess. (To be fair, Nim acknowledged, the television

cameras had only external film shots to work with; using hindsight, be

realized it would have been better to have allowed them in.) During the

half-hour recess, order was restored and the marathon business session

ensued. At the end nothing had changed except that all participants were

weary, but much that needed to be said had been brought into the open.

To Nim's surprise next day the most comprehensive and balanced view of

the proceedings had appeared in the California Examiner under Nancy

Molineaux's by-line.

"If you don't mind," be told Karen, "our annual circus is something I'd

like to blot out for a while."

"Consider it blotted, Nimrod. What annual meeting? I never even heard of

one."

He laughed, then said, "I enjoyed your poetry. Have you published any?"

She shook her head and he was reminded again, as she sat in the

wheelchair opposite him, that it was the only part of her body she could

move.

He had come here today partly because he felt the need to get away, even

if briefly, from the turmoil of GSP & L. He bad also wanted, very much,

to see Karen Sloan, a desire now reinforced by her charm and re-

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markable beauty. The last was just as he remembered-the shining

shoulder-length blonde hair, perfectly proportioned face, full lips and

flawless, opalescent skin.

A touch whimsically, Nim speculated on whether he was falling in love. If

so, it would involve a reversal, he thought. On plenty of occasions he had

experienced sex without love. But with Karen it would be love without sex.

"I write poetry for pleasure," Karen said. "What I was working on when you

came was a speech."

He had already noticed the electric typewriter behind her. It contained a

partially typed sheet. Other papers were spread out on a table alongside.

"A speech to whom? And about what?"

"It will be to a convention of lawyers. A State Bar group is working on a

report about laws which apply to disabled persons-tbose in most states and

other countries. There are some laws which work; others don't. I've made a

study of them."

"You're telling lawyers about the law?"

"Why not? Lawyers get cocooned in theory. They need someone practical to

tell them what really happens under laws and regulations. That's why

they've asked me; besides, I've done it before. Mostly I'll talk about

para- and quadriplegics and also clear up some misconceptions."

"What kind of misconceptions?"

From the adjoining room, while they talked, kitchen sounds were audible.

When Nim had telephoned this morning, Karen invited him for lunch. Now,

Josie, the aide-cum-housekeeper whom Nim had met on his previous visit, was

preparing the meal.

"Before I answer that," Karen said, "my right leg is getting uncomfortable.

Will you move it for me?"

He stood up and approached the wheelchair uncertainly. Karen's right leg

was crossed over her left.

"Just arrange them the other way. Left over right, please." She said it

matter-of-factly and Nim reached out, suddenly aware that her nyloncovered

legs were slim and attractive. And they were warm, momentarily exciting, to

the touch.

"Thank you," Karen acknowledged. "You have gentle bands." When be appeared

surprised, she added, "That's one of.the misconceptions."

"What is?"

"That all paralyzed people are deprived of normal feeling. It's true that

some can't feel anything any more, but post-polios like me can have all

their sensory abilities intact. So although I can't move my limbs, I have

as much physical sensation as anyone else. It's why a leg or arm can get

uncomfortable or 'fall asleep, and need its position changed, the way you

did just now."

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He admitted, "You're right. I guess I did think the way you said, sub-

consciously."

"I know." She smiled mischievously. "But I could feel your hands on my

legs and, if you want to know, I rather liked it."

A sudden, startling thought occurred to him, then he dismissed it and

said, "Tell me another misconception."

"That quadriplegics shouldn't be asked to talk about themselves. You'd

be surprised how many people are reluctant or embarrassed to have any

contact with us, some even frightened."

"Does that happen often?"

"All the time. Last week my sister Cynthia took me to a restaurant for

lunch. When the waiter came he wrote down Cynthia's order then, without

looking at me, he asked, 'And what will she have?' Cynthia, bless her,

said, 'Why don't you ask her?' But even then, when I gave my order, he

wouldn't look at me directly."

Nim was silent, then be reached out, lifted Karen's hand and held it.

"I'm ashamed for all of us."

"Don't be. You're making up for a lot of others, Nimrod."

Releasing her hand, he said, "The last time I was here you talked a

little about your family."

"I won't need to today because you're going to meet them-at least, my

parents. I hope you don't mind but they're dropping in right after lunch.

It's my mother's day off from work and my father is working on a plumbing

job not far from here."

Her parents, Karen explained, were originally from Austrian families and,

in their teens during the mid-1930s, were brought to the United States

as immigrants while war clouds gathered over Europe. In California they

met, married, and had two children-Cynthia and Karen. The family name on

the father's side bad been Slonhauser, which was Anglicized to Sloan

during naturalization. Karen and Cynthia knew little of their Austrian

heritage and were brought up as native American children.

"Then Cynthia is older than you?"