"I'm puzzled, Roy. Couple of die-hards are screaming for your scalp, but you're getting help from unexpected quarters. Old Mogens Snorreson of Denmark suddenly got up and said it was necessary for the safety of mankind that we give you a permanent appointment as director of Popeek." "_Snorreson?_ But hasn't he been the one who wanted me bounced?" Ludwig nodded. "That's what I mean. The climate is changing, definitely changing. Ride the crest, Roy. The way things look now, you may end up being swept into office for life." They entered the giant Assembly hall. At the dais, a black-faced man with bright teeth was speaking. "Who's that?" Walton whispered. "Malcolm Nbono, the delegate from Ghana. He regards you as a sort of saint for our times." Walton slipped into a seat in the gallery and said, "Let's listen from here before we go down below. I want to catch my breath." The young man from Ghana was saying, "... Crisis points are common to humanity. Many years ago, when my people came from their colonial status and achieved independence, we learned that painstaking negotiations and peaceful approaches are infinitely more efficacious than frontal attack by violent means. In my eyes, Roy Walton is an outstanding exponent of this philosophy. I urge his election as director of the Bureau of Population Equalization." A heavy-bearded, ponderous man to Nbono's right shouted "Bravo!" at that point, and added several thick Scandinavian expletives. "That's good old Mogens. The Dane really is on your side this morning," Ludwig said. "Must have been watching the kaleidowhirl last night," Walton murmured. The delegate from Ghana concluded with a brief tremolo cadenza praising Walton. Walton's eyes were a little moist; he hadn't realized he was a saint. Nbono tacked on an abrupt coda and sat down. "All right," Walton said. "Let's go down there." They made a grand entrance. Ludwig took his seat behind the neon _United States_ sign, and Walton slid into the unoccupied seat to Ludwig's right. A definite stir of interest was noticeable. The secretary-general was presiding--beady-eyed Lars Magnusson of Sweden. "I see Mr. Walton of Popeek has arrived," he commented. "By a resolution passed unanimously yesterday, we have invited Mr. Walton this morning to address us briefly. Mr. Walton, would you care to speak now?" "Thank you very much," Walton said. He rose. The delegates were staring at him with great interest ... and, somewhere behind them, obscured by the bright lights of the cameras, there were, he sensed, a vast multitude of onlookers peering at him from the galleries. Onlookers who had seen Percy's kaleidowhirl last night, evidently. A thunderous wave of applause swept down on him. _This is too easy_, he thought. _That kaleidowhirl program seems to have hypnotized everybody._ He moistened his lips.