Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [52]
Then that smile was back again, a sunburst on her face. "And why am I telling you about the political sorrows of the world? I've got to go." She scurried off before Harvey could ask her name.
There was a conservatively dressed black man standing patiently, obviously waiting to get on camera. Muslim? Harvey wondered. They dressed that way. But he turned out to be a member of the Mayor's staff who wanted to tell everyone that the Mayor did care, and if the voters would approve the Mayor's new smog-control bond issue, people would be able to see the stars from the San Fernando Valley.
"You might be on for all of five seconds. A flash of that lovely smile," Tim Hamner was saying. "And 'Hamner-Brown? What's that?' Then cut to someone who's sure it's going to blast Culver City to smithereens."
She laughed. "All right. I'll sign your form."
"Good. Name?"
"Eileen Susan Hancock."
Hamner wrote it carefully. "Address? Phone number?"
She frowned. She looked at the TravelAll, and all the camera gear. She looked at Hamner's expensive leisure suit, and the thin Pulsar watch. "I don't see—"
"We like to check with people before we use them on camera," Tim said. "Blast. I didn't mean it that way. I'm not really a professional at this. Just unpaid labor. Also the sponsor. And the man who discovered the comet."
Eileen made a face: mock astonishment. "How … incestuous!" They both laughed. "How did you get to be all that?"
"Picked the right grandfather. Inherited a lot of money and a company called Kalva Soap. Spent some of the money on an observatory. Found a comet. Got the company to sponsor a documentary on the comet so I could brag about it. See, it all makes perfect sense."
"Of course, it's all so simple now that you've explained it."
"Listen, if you don't want to give me your address—"
"Oh, I do." She lived in a high-rise in West Los Angeles. She gave him her phone number, too. She shook his hand briskly, and said, "I have to run, but I'm really glad I met you. You've made my day." And she was gone, leaving Hamner with a dazed and happy smile.
"Ragnarok," the man said. "Armageddon." His voice was strong, persuasive. He had a great beard, a full black beard with two tufts of pure white at the chin, and mild, kindly eyes. "The prophets of all lands saw this day coming. The Day of Judgment. The war of fire and ice is foretold by the ancients. The Hammer is ice, and it will come in fire."
"And what do you advise?" Harvey Randall asked.
The man hesitated; he may have feared that Randall was mocking him. "Join a church. Join any church you can believe in. 'In my father's house are many mansions.' The truly religious will not be turned away."
"What would you do if Hamner-Brown happens to miss?"
"It won't."
Harvey turned him over to Mark and the release form, and gave Charlie the signal to pack it in. It had not been a bad day; they had a few minutes he could use, and Harvey had learned something about the mood of his viewers.
Mark came up with the form. "Went well, didn't it. You will notice that I kept my mouth shut."
"So you did. Nice going."
Hamner came grinning at some private pleasure. He stowed his recording equipment in the truck and climbed aboard. "Did I miss anything?"
"Ragnarok is coming. Earth will die in fire and ice. He had the best beard I've ever seen. Where the hell were you?"
"Getting a release form," said Tim. He wore that sappy smile all the way back to the lot.
From the NBS lot Tim Hamner drove to Bullocks. He knew what he was after. From there to a florist, and then to a drugstore. At the drugstore he bought sleeping pills. He was going to be keeping strange hours.
He flopped on the bed, fully dressed. He was deeply asleep when the phone rang around six-thirty. He rolled over and felt around for the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hello, I'd like to speak to Mr. Hamner, please."
"This is me. Eileen? Sorry, I was asleep.