Donald Noakes - THE LONG SILENCE [ss]

The police car traveled slowly along a street parallel to that carrying the marching demonstrators. Each time the car passed one of the connecting side streets the roar, no longer muffled by buildings, hit the car like a solid wave.

Superintendent Mack would not have been surprised to feel the car move sideways. He looked back at dark-skinned Inspector Khan and small, birdlike Professor Nantzen.

"Noisier than ever," he said. "If they stop it should be a good test for your box, Professor."

Nantzen leaned forward and patted the white metal box on the floor of the car.

"It will work. You will see. I hope they do stop."

"I don't," said Khan. "I'm not looking forward to it. The new law isn't popular. If they stop, it will be a deliberate challenge."

"It could be hairy," agreed Mack, "but 1 think it's a reasonable law. They can still march and demonstrate, but if they make any unauthorized halt and fail to disperse after warning, they face certain imprisonment. In any case, it is the law, and we have to carry it out as best we can."

He winced as they passed another side street.

"Damned if I know how they manage it, but they seem to get noisier each time. I've seen 'em all - teddy boys, rockers, flower people, hippies, greasers, skinheads, yippies, gabadoos, blinkers - but these lamies beat the lot. Love and music for Pete's sake - they're raving flutters!" Khan nodded.

"It's a wonder they don't drive everyone mad. Towards the end of last week's demo I felt like screaming myself. It was probably as well that no one could hear what some of my men were yelling!"

Mack glanced out of the window.

"Any minute now. If they are going to try to stop anywhere, it will be outside the Dumbrian Embassy. Pull up just short of the next corner, Driver."

Professor Nantzen leaned forward and checked the connections and switches of his white box. The noise from their left rolled forward and increased.

"Purple One to Ivory. A group of lamies have stopped outside the Dumbrian Embassy. Trying to halt the march. Over."

Mack picked up the car microphone.

"Ivory to Purple One. Try to keep the main body moving."

He lowered the car window, listened to the roar, and wound up the window again.

"Are you using your loud hailers? Over."

"All loud hailers in operation but drowned by noise. We've got most of 'em moving past the Embassy. About a hundred halted. Mostly lamies. Suggest you try to move them before it gets too big. Over and out."

Mack grunted and replaced the microphone.

"Right, Driver. See how close you can get:"

The noise hit them as they turned the corner. By the time that they reached the small square it was impossible to hear themselves speak, even with the car windows closed.

A line of police formed a semicircle in front of the Dumbrian Embassy. A mass of shouting demonstrators stood facing them. Almost all wore brightly colored lamie tunics with the chest pouch to hold a transistor radio. From the noise, Mack judged that all the radios must be turned to maximum volume.

Mack nodded to Khan, who left the car and raised his right arm. Police poured from the tenders which had halted behind the car.

Mack shook his head as Nantzen stretched out his hand to the box.

Khan lined up his men, then waved to Mack.

The superintendent picked up the microphone attached to the white box and nodded to Nantzen.

The professor turned two switches, and the din was cut off, cleanly and sharply.

In the square, lamie faces were still red as they yelled, but no ripple of sound emerged. Silence - until Mack spoke into the microphone and his voice boomed out from the loudspeakers on top of the car.

"You are committing an offense by halting here. You will disperse. Either rejoin your march to Hyde Park, or move off in any direction. Move now, or you will be arrested."

Inspector Khan and his group moved forward, a slow, solid wall of blue.

Lamies were banging their radios and mouthing soundlessly. A man at the rear of the crowd turned and ran, then another. Soon all but a small group of lamies had dispersed.

"Move on," ordered Mack. "This is the last warning before you are arrested."

Still the remaining lamies stood their ground. Suddenly, a transistor radio was hurled at the police, and then the defiant lamies charged.

Inspector Khan mopped his face as he re-entered the car.

"Damned if I know what's got into them. They fought like demons. So much for their nonviolence."

When they reached the police station, they found some lamies still struggling, some sitting on the floor screaming, while two sat slumped against a wall, mouths open slackly, staring silently into space.

Four hours later, Mack interrupted the two police surgeons, who were still in consultation.

"All that we can say definitely is that we cannot certify that any of the prisoners are fit to be questioned, or charged. As far as we can tell at this stage they are all mentally unbalanced. We have put ten under sedation. The remaining eight are calmer now, but we can get no response from them."

"Putting on an act, do you think?"

"It's a possibility - but if they are it's going to be difficult to prove. We think it best that they be moved to a mental hospital. Let the experts decide. I'll make arrangements if you agree."

Mack frowned and rubbed his wiry gray hair.

"All right. Just give me time to have photos taken."

"Photos! What do you want photos for?"

"They had very little in their pockets, except their blasted transistors. We know the names of only two. However, from other bits and pieces, it seems likely that four came from the commune at Shepherds Bush and three from Chelsea. We shall have to look into their mental state before the demonstration. I don't like the situation one little bit."

Mack decided to go to Shepherds Bush himself and to send Khan to Chelsea.

Three lamies sat on the steps of the large house. Music from their transistors mingled with the sound of traffic and with more music from the commune. The lamies looked at Mack incuriously.

"Is anyone in charge here?" he asked.

He repeated the question, shouting to overcome the music.

They shook their heads. Then one said, "Jethro's pretty cute at arranging things. Take him to Jethro, man."

Mack winced as he entered the house. The noise from radios nearly deafened him. He smiled wryly at the slogans on the walls: "Love and Music"; "Music Means Harmony"; "Strike Chords not Blows"; "Tune in to Music and Peace".

His guide took him to a room in which a dozen lamies sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes half closed, swaying in time to the beat of music. The guide indicated a gaunt young man whose ginger hair and beard clashed horribly with his orange tunic and brick-red trousers.

Jethro smiled and patted the floor by his side. Mack sat down.

"I would like to talk to you," shouted Mack. "Turn off your radios, please."

Jethro shook his head, but he turned down the volume of his transistor.

Mack showed the first photograph to Jethro.

"Do you know this man?"

The lamie flicked his gaze at the photo and shook his head. He still swayed in time to the music.

After getting the same response to two other photos, both of lamies he felt certain came from this commune, Mack got up.

"Is there somewhere quieter where we can talk?"

A shrug.

"Come out to my car with me. It is important that I talk to you."

As they left the building, Jethro turned up the volume of the radio in the kangaroo pocket of his tunic.

Inside the car, Mack scowled at him.

"Turn it down, please. Don't you ever turn it off?"

Jethro turned down the volume and shook his head.

"Damn it, surely you must turn it off to go to sleep?"

"No - just very soft, man."

Mack started again with the photos.

"That's Jimmie," said Jethro. "He's a turn, man."

"A turn. What do you mean?" "Comic. Great mimic."

"What is he like when he's not doing a turn?"

Jethro looked puzzled. "Just ordinary, man."

He recognized more photos. The first he described as just ordinary, and nodded when Mack asked whether the next was ordinary too.

A suspicion entered Mack's mind. When Jethro indicated that he knew the next lamie, Mack said, "How about him? Is he odd?"

Jethro nodded happily.

Mack sighed and let him go.

The three lamies sitting on the steps confirmed Mack's suspicion. They cheerfully agreed with everything he said about the lamies they recognized. They were ordinary, mad, quiet, noisy, miserable, cheerful - anything to please their interrogator.

Back at New Scotland Yard, Inspector Khan massaged his forehead.

"I couldn't get any sense out of any of them. The noise was incredible. I wonder they're not all mad, but they certainly seem harmless."

The next morning, the headlines in the national press varied from, "Police Brutality - Twenty Lamies in Hospital," to "Police Impose Silence."

To Mack's relief the press made no mention of the suspected insanity of the arrested lamies.

At a conference at New Scotland Yard, Mack gave a factual report, concluding, "The arrested men and women are still in the hospital. Latest reports are that there is little change in their condition. Inspector Khan and I visited the lamie communes at Chelsea and Shepherds Bush. We could get no reliable evidence as to the mental state of the prisoners before their arrest. I was told that one of the men is a good mimic. Perhaps he could put on an act - but I doubt whether he could have taught the others. In any case, that presupposes that the lamies were prepared to be arrested - "

A messenger entered and gave the assistant commissioner a slip of paper. He frowned at the paper and then looked at Mack:

"Another test for Nantzen's box. Lamies estimated at five hundred in Hyde Park. Planning to walk in small groups and to concentrate for protest meeting outside the Yard. I should say that you have half an hour to make your preparations, Mack."

"I don't like it, sir. Suppose the box does damage their brains?" Nantzen shook his head.

"Impossible. My device merely absorbs all sound waves except those on a very narrow band transmitted by the equipment. It didn't affect any of your men, did it?"

Mack agreed that this was so. The assistant commissioner got up.

"If they drown the loud hailers, you'll have to use the professor's equipment. They must be warned and be given an opportunity to disperse before being arrested."

"I appreciate that, sir. I'm not at all happy about it. Could the radio station stop transmitting? We need only a couple of minutes."

"No time to convince them. You'd best get organized."

Mack was unusually tense as he sat in the car with Nantzen and Khan. He still mistrusted the effect of the professor's equipment. Something he had heard was important - but what?

By the time that he had made up his mind hundreds of lamies had assembled, blocking Broadway. Normal speech was impossible, and the loud hailers useless.

Mack wrote in his notebook, "When I raise microphone, switch on. Immediately I drop mike, switch off. There must be no delay. Understood?"

Nantzen read the message, shrugged and nodded.

Mack raised the microphone. Silence, sudden and complete.

"This is an illegal assembly. I must order you to disperse. The silence will end five seconds from now." He watched the faces of the nearest lamies as he mentally counted off the seconds. The faces showed only surprise.

When he lowered the microphone, the transistors blared out again. The shouting crowd swayed.

Mack lifted the microphone. Again the incredible silence.

"Disperse, please. I have the power to keep you in silence. Think about this. Think carefully. If you do not disperse, I shall leave you in silence - to think. After I finish speaking there will be ten seconds silence. If you do not move off during this time, I shall impose silence again."

After five seconds he could see signs of panic. He tried to read the faces of the crowd.

At eight seconds the movement began, and as he lowered the microphone the last of the lamies were in flight. Transistors again blared.

Mack sighed with relief.

"Thank God it worked. I must see a psychiatrist before we use the box again."

Khan looked at him anxiously. "You'd better come and have a drink, sir. I think that's what you need. It's been a strain - "

"Damn it, Khan, don't you understand - we were risking their sanity. We must find out exactly how long a silence can be imposed on lamies without danger. Without noise they have to think. If they are forced to think for too long, they go mad."