There were hoots from the crowd as they recognised the feed: a live broadcast of the keynote addresses in the Centre. The Patron Ik'Spir Pat's hoverchair prominent. The camera lingered on the Patron's eyes, the only part of him visible from within the chair's masking infrastructure. They were startling, silvery orbs, heavy-lidded and expressionless. The camera swung to Hershie. Szandor spat dramatically and led a chorus of hisses. Hershie hastily closed his comm and cleared his throat, adjusted his mic, and addressed the crowd. # "Uh. . ." he said. His guts somersaulted. Time to go big or go home. "Hi." That was better. "Thanks. I'm the Super Man. For years, I worked alongside UN Peacekeeping forces around the world. I hoped I was doing good work. Most of the time, I suppose I may have been." He caught the eye of Brenda, the cheerful Texan who'd booked him in. She looked uneasy. "There's one thing I'm certain of, though: it's that the preparation for war has never led to anything _but_ war. With this show, you ladies and gentlemen are participating in a giant conspiracy to commit murder. Individually, you may not be evil, but collectively, you're the most amoral supervillain I've ever faced." Brenda was talking frantically into her comm. His mic died. He simply expanded his mighty diaphragm and kept on speaking, his voice filling the ballroom. "I urge you to put this behind you. We've entered into a new era in human history. The good Patron here offers the entire Universe; you scurry around, arranging the deaths of people you've never met. "It's a terribly, stupid, mindless pursuit. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves." With that, Hershie stepped away from the podium and walked out of the ballroom. # The camera tracked him as he made his way back through the Convention Centre, out the doors. He leapt the barricade and settled in front of the screen. The demonstrators gave him a standing ovation, and Thomas gravely shook his hand. The handshake was repeated on the giant screen behind them, courtesy of the cameraman, who had gamely vaulted the barricade as well. The crowd danced, hugged each other, laughed. Szandor's dog bit him on the ass, and he nearly dropped the projector. He recovered in time to nearly drop it again, as the Patron Ik'Spir Pat's hoverchair glided out the Centre's doors and made a beeline for Hershie. Hershie watched the car approach with nauseous dread. The Patron stopped a few centimetres from him, so they were almost eyeball-to-eyeball. The hoverchair's PA popped to life, and the Patron spoke, in the bugouts' thrilling contralto. "Thank you for your contribution," the bugout said. "It was refreshing to have another perspective presented." Hershie tried for a heroic nod. "I'm glad you weren't offended." "On the contrary, it was stimulating. I shall have to speak with the conference's organisers; this format seems a good one for future engagements."