for 125,000 years in this one under the political system of a benign monarchy. There had been upsets in the past but these infrequent disruptions in Royal rule, even when occasioned by excessive repression, had been resolved by a conclave of the Lords of the land-of which there were thousands, existing not only on the central planet of Voltar but on the other 109 planets. A system existed, in other words, for handling the cessation of a Royal line. In the living memory of most of the four hundred billion inhabitants of the Confederacy, despite their long life expectancy, no coronation had taken place. But they suspected that it would be attended by some vast array of Lords, with pomp, parades, celebrations and even holidays complete with festivals and one's best clothes. It wouldn't be over in ten minutes, most of which was being performed without even saying what it was about. And then, at the end, the statement that that insanely rapturous face was their new monarch and that it was no one less than the head of the organization they had been battling in the streets for days, the Apparatus of trial notoriety, stuffed torches into an already roaring fire. People who had been on the sidelines before burst into the streets with screams of fury. Government offices and buildings that had nothing to do with the Apparatus became the targets for anything one could throw or any weapon one could steal or invent. Normal conduct of affairs and life all but ceased. In its place rose the anarchy of rage. The Domestic Police gave up any real effort to control the mobs and in some places even joined them. The smoke of burning buildings hung like black mourning over thousands of cities. The damage toll was soaring into billions of credits and hundreds of thousands of lives. Reports of all this, oddly enough, were only being centralized by Madison himself. He sat in the Emperor's antechamber at a desk previously used by guard officers. Lounging around the large room were the forty-nine members of his crew. Because they had procured bales of them from Home-view, they were all attired, except for Madison, in the aqua-green uniforms of that organization. The tunics, pants, boots and caps with their goggle-visor bills were easy to slip into. Furthermore, as the news came in, none of them were partial to looking like Apparatus: also, as "Lieutenant" Flick had pointed out, nobody ever looked twice at a Homeview crew-they were accepted as part of the scenery, and while people might be interested in something that was being camera'd, nobody ever looked twice at the crew. The fourteen women backed him up: they thought the uniforms were pretty. Madison, through the night, had dozed while sprawled across the desk. Lombar was in the Emperor's bedchamber, excreta and all, dumped there to sleep off the counterfeit Scotch and LSD and maybe some heroin and speed they did not know or care about. From time to time Apparatus generals came in with reports that the situation was worsening. They would find that there was no one on duty but Madison: he would rouse and blink, hear about some new town going up in smoke and then say, "You just make sure, General, that the Fleet and Army are going after Heller," and go back to sleep. About 9:00 A.M., some fifteen hours after the coronation, Flip brought him his share of the hot jolt and sweetbuns they had looted out of the Imperial stores. "Chief," she said, "you look awful. There's several bedchambers opening into this room, probably left over from when some Emperor had mistresses. They all got bathrooms. I found an Emperor's spin razor and spin brush and even a bottle of soap. I didn't bring you any spare General Services uniform and that one is all sweated up, so I laid out a new Homeview outfit for you. Now eat your breakfast." Madison groggily imbibed the sweetbun and hot jolt. He felt better. "Now," said Flip, "we can slip into that bedroom, rip off a little piece of (bleep) and you can freshen up and change your
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