The Iron Dream by Norman Spinrad Read Free Book Online Page B

of a scrawny chicken. We are all our racial brothers'
    keeper! Let this small victory bum as a beacon in your hearts. Death to the Dominators! Long live Heldon! Let no true man rest until the last Dom is ground into the dust, the last habitable inch of soil on earth under the iron rule of true men! Drown all Dominators and mongrels in a sea of their own blood!"
    A great cheer went up; customs troops and even prospective citizens joined the troop of townsfolk in fervent celebration. Feric felt strong hands on his body, and before he quite knew what was about, he was aloft on the shoulders of the cheering men. Still cheering and shouting, the good Helder bore him in triumph out of the customs fortress and onto the bridge.
    Thus did Feric Jaggar make his second and true entrance into Heldon: not as an anonymous supplicant for certification, but as aJriumphant hero on the shoulders of his followers.
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    After their comrades of the afternoon's work had celebrated their victory and gone their various ways, Feric and Bogel, at Bogel's suggestion, repaired to the Forest Glen Inn. In addition to a large public room similar to that of the Eagle's Nest, this establishment boasted a series of three smaller and more intimate salons. A headwaiter in a forest green uniform trimmed with brown leather piping ushered them into an oak-paneled room with a low, vaulted ceiling of natural, rough-cut brick. Electric globes on the individual tables cunningly crafted to simulate torchlight were the sole source of illumination. The tables themselves were slabs of gray granite separated from each other by the high backs of the upholstered benches which faced each other across them, effectively dividing up the salon into a series of private booths. Here they could converse in private.
    Bogel ordered a bottle of white wine and plates of sausages and red cabbage. Feric did not protest the nature of the fare to be set before him; there were times when one had earned the right to eat meat, and this was certainly one of them.
    "Well now, Feric Jaggar," Bogel said when the waiter had departed, "just who are you, and what is your intent in life, and where are you going now?"
    Feric told him of his pedigree and of the story of his life to date, which hardly made a tale of complex nature or inordinate length. The food had barely arrived when he informed Bogel that his immediate destination was Walder. But his intent in life, he realized, had become a subject of nearly cosmic vastness since the events of the afternoon, as if he had awoken from a slumber in which he had lain all his life. For the first time, he had experienced the full grandeur of his own being, the extent of the power inherent in his mighty will. His mission in life had always been clear: to serve in whatever way he might 43
    serve best the cause of Heldon, genetic purity, and true humanity. His quandary had been to discover how he might further this sacred cause to the maximum. Now his thoughts were as to how he might achieve the final triumph of Heldon and true humanity through his own personal destiny. It was a problem of daunting vastness and complexity, yet within him Feric felt the inner certainty that fate had chosen him alone to perform this ultimate feat of heroism.
    This he tried to explain to Bogel while the dapper little man nodded and smiled knowingly as if Feric's words were simply confirming some already-formed inner conviction on his own part.
    "I, too, feel this aura of destiny about you," Bogel said.
    "I feel it all the more keenly because it is clearly a quality which I myself lack. We serve the same noble cause with the same patriotic fervor, and I flatter myself that I am your intellectual peer. Moreover, I have built a small group of followers who look to me as their leader. Yet, once hearing you speak and seeing your words stir strangers to action, I find it ludicrous that the Human Renaissance Party should have as its Secretary-General anyone but you. I can plan and