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submerged shoal, unseen, undefined, known only by the divergence of waves around it; but he did not question its reality, rather acted as its spokesman. He could, he thought, tell the crowd anything and they would listen. They were not really listening, they were reacting to the pitch and timbre of his voice, his glowing eyes. Their fear had taken on a lewd, exultant character, as if they had been eagerly awaiting him.

'Lo,' he said, spreading his arms in imitation of Papa Salvatino, 'the Lord God has raised me up from the ramshackle kingdom of the dead and sent me to warn you. Not of Kingdom Come but of Kingdom Overthrown, of Satan's imminent victory!'

Hesitant, they shuffled forward, some coming halfway along the aisle, soothed by the familiar Biblical cadences, but not yet ready to embrace him fully. The ease with which they could be swayed delighted him; he imagined an army carrying a green-eyed banner through the world, converting millions to his cause.

'Do you remember the good old days?' he asked with a wistful air, hobbling along the edge of the stage. 'Those days that always seem just to have vanished or perhaps never even were. Days when the light was full of roses and lovers, when music played out every window and the kids weren't into drugs, when Granny baked her bread fresh each morning and the city streets were places of excitement and wonder. Whatever happened to those days?'

They didn't know but wanted to be told.

'You began to hear voices,' he said. 'You began to have visions, to receive reports, all of which conjured against that peaceful world. Radio and newspapers preaching a gospel of doom, a spell binding you to its truth. And then along came Satan's Eye Itself. Television.' He laughed, as at some fatal irony. 'Don't you hear the evil hum of the word, the knell of Satan? Television! It's the ruling character of your lives, like the moon must have been for Indians. An oracle, a companion, a signal of the changing seasons. But rather than divine illumination, each night it spews forth Satan's imagery. Murders, car crashes, mad policemen, perverted strangers! And you lie there decomposing in its flickering, blue-gray light, absorbing His horrid fantasies.'

He stared over their heads as if he saw a truth they could not see, staring for so long that many followed his gaze.

'You'll go home tonight and look at your sets and say, "Why, it's a harmless entertainment, a blessing when the kids are sick." But that logic's Satan's sales pitch, brothers and sisters. What it really is is the transmission of Armageddon's pulse, the rumormonger of the war foretold by Scripture, the power cell of Satan's dream for mankind. Take a closer look. Turn it on, touch the glass and feel the crackle of His force, catch a whiff of His lightning brain. It's the thing you fear most, the thing which has seduced you, which is lifting you to its jaws while you think it's preparing to give you a kiss. Know it, brothers and sisters! Or be consumed. And when you truly know it, save yourself. Break the glass, smash the tubes!'

'Break the glass!' shouted someone, and another shouted, 'Break it! Break it!'

'Break the glass,' said Donnell softly. 'Smash the tubes.' And the crowd, though unfamiliar with the litany, tried to repeat it.

'Hallelujah!' said Donnell.

They knew that one and were nearly unanimous in their response. He had them say it again, letting them unite within the sound of the word, and then held out his hands for silence.

'Break the glass, smash the tubes, and...' He made them wait, enjoying the expectancy on their faces. 'And... renew the earth! Oh, brothers and sisters, don't you remember when you used to walk to the edge of town and into the woods and fields? What's taken their place?'

They weren't sure. 'Evil!' someone suggested, and Donnell nodded his approval.

'Right enough, brother. Gas stations and motels and franchise restaurants. Defoliated zones of sameness! Places that have lost their identity and might be anywhere on God's earth. Why, put a good Christian down in one and he might think he was in Buffalo as like as Albuquerque. But you know where he really is? Those bright little huts tinkling with jingles are the anterooms of Hell-on-earth, an infection of concrete and plastic spreading over the land, reducing everything to the primary colors and simple shapes of Satan's dream. Arby's, Big Boy, McDonald's, Burger King! Those are the new names of