Coming into Power 

Chapter 1 


	Helen pressed her leg lightly against Joe to get his 
attention. However, her musical voice, just by itself, 
always caught Joe's attention. "Joe, can I change the radio 
station? It's not that I don't love classical music. I do. 
However, I really do want to hear when my friend Melody leaves 
the moon, and is on the way back to earth. She and the other 
astronauts have beat Sam Raccetts 2066 record for how long an 
astronaut has stayed on the moon." She felt energized while 
sandwiched between her best friends Bob and Joe. 
	Joe divided his attention. While part of his mind 
focused on driving them to their concert performance in his 
ancient white camper truck, another part of his mind focused 
on answering her question. "You sure can. I even give you 
permission." He turned his head slightly so he could alternately 
see the road and her reaction. 
	She laughed. "I'm sorry I told you about my fifth 
grade English teacher and her 'may I' game." She reached 
forward and swiftly punched the code sequence needed for her 
favorite news station on the truck radio touch pad control 
panel. 
	". . .waiting for the signal to liftoff. It's t minus 2 
minutes and counting. Brad, while we're waiting, tell our 
listeners why we gave the lunar module the name 'Grayjay'." 
	After a short period of static, Brad's monotonic radio 
voice began. "We gave it the name Grayjay because of the 
Canadian grayjay. The grayjay, a cold weather bird, adapted 
itself to the cold weather in Canada and along the Rocky 
Mountains in the northwestern United States. One of our 
astronauts, as a child, lived in Canada, and we decided to name 
the lunar module after a Canadian bird. The fact that the 
grayjay also nests along the Rocky Mountains and this lunar 
expedition will explore mountains on the far side of the moon 
strikes me as an interesting coincidence." 
	"Sorry to interrupt, Brad. It's 15 seconds to liftoff. 
Countdown will begin right away." 
	"10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1..." 
". . . Grayjay failed to lift off. Grayjay failed to lift 
off." The announcer's voice held the clear tones of tight 
emotional control. "We know at this time only that the main 
engines ignited and then immediately shut down. This station 
will make special alerts as we receive them." 
	"What! Something went wrong. Oh, I hope they're okay." 
	Bob shrugged his shoulders. "Well. . . you can't do 
anything about it. You should relax. Don't worry about it." 
	Joe laughed. "Bob, we all cope with anxiety differently. 
Helen worries. Not everyone can be as rational as you." 
	Bob replied, "I don't want her to worry. I'm trying to 
explain why she shouldn't worry." He shifted into his objective 
mode voice. "Look. Either your friend is okay, or she is not 
okay. If she is okay, then we don't need to worry. If she isn't 
okay then we can't do anything about it, so why worry about it? 
We should worry only if it will help us solve the problem we 
are worried about. So, why don't you distract yourself for 
now? Besides, I believe everyone can and should be completely 
rational." 
	Joe shook his head. "My friend, you don't understand 
emotions yet. Emotions motivate our responses to perceived 
situations. After we become aware of our response we can choose 
whether or not we should follow through with it." 
	Bob meditated silently for a moment before speaking. 
"People can and should learn rational emotions. Your emo. . . " 
	She interrupted. "Joe, you two will never settle 
that discussion. So, don't argue with him now. Instead, tell 
me what you think happened on the moon." 
	"Well I can't. We only know that liftoff failed. 
That implies something went wrong with either the liftoff 
engines, or with the fuel. Perhaps Bob does have a point this 
time. Let's think about other things. Think about our walk on
the beach tomorrow. Think about how well Bob harmonizes his 
guitar playing with your singing." 
	She glared at him for just a second, but then laughed. 
"We can at least check the news after our concert performance. 
I want to hear what happened with Melody and the other 
astronauts. I need to know that Melody is safe." 
	She paused, then continued. "I know, Bob, you'll just 
say it's so I can decide what I should feel. Well . . . I can't 
help it. I have to know!" 
	Bob grinned. "You know me very well. But that's not 
what I intended to say. I'm curious about Melody. Tell me how 
you know her." 
	She looked affectionately toward Bob. "Thanks for 
asking. During my high school years, I formed an anti-nicotine 
patch organization. Someone in our small group found out that 
Melody, already a famous astronaut, shared our concern. We all
believe that people should know the difference between the real 
happiness that comes from creative work and the illusion of 
happiness from maintaining a drug addiction."  
	"We were also concerned about the growing power 
of United Tobacco Company. I contacted her and she actually came 
to our high school to speak to us. She and some guy named Grant 
encouraged us by keeping in touch with us by video phone the 
rest of the year. They taught us some history about tobacco use. 
Cigarette smoking rates had fallen to about two percent of the 
population due to the Allen Carr clinics that appeared in cities 
all around the world. However, they had no effect on the number 
of people using nicotine patches.  All these clinics closed 
after their near total success in curing the world of smoking." 
	"Within a generation, it became popular for people who 
never smoked to use the nicotine patches.  This happened 
because people addicted to nicotine, because of the patches, 
persuaded non-addicts to try them.   The problem became 
significantly worse after the tobacco companies merged into 
United Tobacco Company." 
	"Did they tell you how to re-open clinics 
like the Allen Carr clinics?" 
	"No, they knew students would not have 
the time to run such a clinic. I'm sure they hoped that later 
we might work with them to help. But I'm still a student. 
Perhaps I'll contact them later, if there is a later." 
	"Oh, I do hope Melody can safely return to Earth!" 
	Joe, having listened closely to their conversation,
 glanced at Bob as if to ask what he should say to help. Bob's
answer was only a shrug of his shoulders.  Joe was on
his own for this. "If I were you, the first thing I would 
have said to Melody is that I liked her name." 
	She looked puzzled. "Why?" 
	Joe grinned. "Aren't you telling me all the time how 
much you like melodies?" 
	Both his friends laughed at this. 
	"Thanks guys. Now I feel better. We must be close to 
the concert hall.  Oh, there it is!" She pointed straight ahead 
through the window. "Oh, I hope we do at least as well tonight 
as we did last time." 
	Joe made a sharp turn into the parking lot."Plan on it. 
You'll keep getting better and better until you perform 
perfectly almost every time." 
	Bob spoke up then. "But, if you don't do better tonight, 
please don't let it bother you." 
	"Thanks, guys." 
	Minutes later, she leaned against the heavy door 
of the large concert hall, slowly pushing it open. Once inside, 
she looked around the room. Pulling a small black box from her 
pocket, she pointed it at the far walls. Bob, following her in, 
very carefully placed their beloved instruments on the floor 
next to her. "How does it look?" 
	"It looks good, Bob. My sounder box tells me that we'll 
have great acoustics." 
	Bob nodded and pointed to his right. "There's their 
stage. It's perfect. We walk up only two steps and we are on 
stage across the room from the doorway. Where's Joe?" 
	"Right here. It's not easy to keep up when I'm lugging 
this heavy archaic sound equipment, and you guys only have to 
carry one double oh eighteen sized guitar, my fiddle, and the 
basket containing the donation jar and flyers." 
	Bob turned to Joe. "After we get rich, you could buy 
some ultra-light quality modern equipment. That is, unless you 
are having fun showing off this hundred-year-old stuff that you 
inherited from your ancestors." 
	 "Well, I'm only keeping it now for sentimental reasons. 
Besides, it's better quality than anything we can afford." 
	She tapped Joe on his arm to get his attention. 
"Well, Joe, you are the tallest and strongest of us. I thought 
it made sense for you to carry the heavy stuff." Her admiration
clearly showed in her smile. 
	Joe looked directly into her blue-gray eyes. "Is zat so? 
Well, I may be strong, and exactly 188 centimeters tall, which 
is at least a centimeter taller than both of you. But I'm no 
Superman. Which reminds me; I have in my truck the Superman 
comic collection you loaned me. Ask me after the concert about 
it." 
	Bob laughed. "Joe, you too? I knew that she gushed 
over Superman, but I didn't know you cared. Did you try to fly 
when you were a kid too?" 
	"Huh! Well. . . Before kindergarten, I jumped over a 
log trying to levitate. Because of that, I got a grass reed 
stuck in my throat about a centimeter from my windpipe." 
	"Bob, don't you ever dream of flying?" 
	"Sure. One time I dreamed I built my own airplane and 
flew it all over town, and people looked up and said, 'Look up 
in the sky. It's a plane!' "Bob grinned in spite of his 
intention to look serious.
	She smiled in return. "I never said I thought I really 
could fly. It's just that when I'm asleep I forget it's 
impossible." 
	Bob shook his head. "I see." He briefly clapped his 
hands twice. "Well, enough of this. We need to set up." 
	She saw a small table near the stage, and dragged it 
to the entrance. Using both hands, she picked up the donation 
jar from her basket and placed it on the table. Next she 
arranged the flyers that advertised their availability for 
future gigs. She paused a moment to pick up one of their 
flyers to admire it. Bob did a really good job when he designed 
this one. Their name, "Vocal Strings", almost seemed to jump 
out. She liked the way he used musical notes to make up the 
letters. Below their band name were pictures of the three of 
them. Joe, being the blond handsome guy, stood slightly behind 
and between them. She ran her fingers over the three figures 
in the picture, tracing out Joe's wavy blond hair, Bob's curly 
black hair, and her own long straight light brown hair. 
Sighing, she put the flyer down. She needed to set up the 
chairs. 
	"I see you've fixed your broken strings." 
	"What?" She turned around to see a young man pointing 
at the flyer. "Oh, you mean our name change. Yes, we are no 
longer the "Broken Strings." Every few months we change our 
band name. We'll probably change it again soon." 
	She walked across the room to get the concert hall's 
chairs to set in front of the stage. The young man followed her, 
and together they set the chairs in neat staggered rows in 
front of the stage. When they had finished, she thanked the 
young man. "Thank you very much. Could you do me another favor?" 
	He responded by looking questioningly at her.
	"Could you point out the donation jar to new people 
coming in?" 
	The young man smiled. "Of course. I'll be glad to do it." 
	Next, she helped Bob and Joe set up the sound system. 
While Bob played his guitar, She walked through the rows of 
chairs, signaling to Joe how to adjust the sound. 
	During this testing period more people began entering 
the hall. Some sat down immediately while others congregated in 
small groups in the back of the hall. She looked to Joe to 
see if he needed any additional sound checks. Joe signaled the 
all clear. But unexpectedly, instead of sitting down to play, 
he followed his all clear signal by an exaggerated pointing at 
the entrance to the Hall. 
	She turned her head to look. Two tall men, dressed in 
very formal suits, had just entered the hall. One of the two 
wore an unusually bright red vest, while the other distinguished 
himself by his top hat and fancy sash belt tied to his side. 
	She quelled the impulse to tell them that they did 
not need to have such formal dress for this concert. It would 
probably only embarrass them. As she drew nearer Red Vest 
smiled and waved to her. She reached them just as Top Hat, 
addressing his friendly companion, complained. "Cato, they 
don't even have an entrance fee! It's just a donation. What 
kind of concert is this?" 
	She stood speechless for a moment, wondering what 
she could say to such an insult. 
	Cato's smooth mellow voice showed his agreement with 
her feelings. "Will, I think having a donation jar is an 
excellent idea." He extended his hand to her. "I'm Senator 
Cato Irving. My irritating companion is Senator Will Bellum. 
I'm sure we'll both enjoy your performance." 
	Her eyes opened wide. She had almost insulted an 
U.S. Senator! Even she had heard of the Senator Cato Irving 
of the ethics committee. Why were they here? Surely they were 
not here just to critique her performance? As she shook 
Cato's hand, she noticed the time on his expensive looking 
watch. Smiling at Cato, she apologized. "Thanks. I don't mean 
to be short, but now I have to run. It's time for us to start." 
As she turned away, she had a second thought. She turned to face 
Cato. "I'll introduce you after the concert." 
	As she jumped up onto the low stage, Joe's watch 
chimed to signal beginning time. He took the microphone. 
"As senior member of our group, I get to make the introductions. 
I'm Joe Athens. Sometimes we call the guitar player Bob, 
sometimes we call him Bam, and sometimes we refer to him as 
'just the best guitar player on the planet'." Joe pointed to 
Helen. "Helen, our lovely singer, the most beautiful lady in 
the world, also answers to the name 'Hat' Can you guess why?" 
	Joe paused, then smiled at the audience. "I will 
give you this hint. Her last name begins with the letter T." 
	Joe took a firmer hold of the microphone. "Today is 
Saturday, July first, 2090. Why am I reminding you of this? 
It's so that when I tell you that today is both Bob's and 
Helen's birthday,you will remember it. Of course, I'm not 
permitted to tell you what year she came into the world." 
	She winked at Bob. They had literally run into each 
other in the doorway of the music appreciation computer lab. 
She fondly remembered being helped up by Joe as she and Bob 
untangled themselves in the doorway. Calling them "The Three 
Musketeers" expressed only weakly the extent to which their 
friendship had since developed. 
	Helen strode forward and took the microphone from 
Joe.  "Before I begin my songs, I want to explain why we
have a donation jar instead of preset prices."  She waved her
left hand toward Joe and Bob.  "We all decided that we wanted
to give everyone, regardless of their money situation, 
oportunity to hear our music.  At the same time, we felt that
our listeners were the best judge of how valuable our music
was to them. That's why we left a donation jar at the entrance,
and left it there during the performance in case any of you
preferred to pay your donation after the performance rather
than before."
	"My first song dates back to the time when almost a third 
of our population actually smoked cigarettes."
	

Oh where do you wish to live? 
Wish you to live in fresh air? 
What are you willing to give, 
what are you willing to dare, 
For abundant life to live? 

Greatly love Sally did Fred. 
"I would like to be your friend." 
Sally thus considered Fred. 
"We will be able to blend, 
if your cigs I need not dread." 

One day Fred met with his Aunt. 
"I would like to with you be." 
How Fred was viewed by his Aunt: 
"Your cigs I must never see. 
On your visit, smoke you can't." 

Different type work wished Fred. 
"I'd like to work in Sales." 
His boss nixed the plan of Fred. 
"Any salesman who smokes, fails. 
For smokers do our clients dread." 

Came the day Fred's health did fail. 
"Now what do I need to do?" 
The doctor could not avail.
"There is nothing you can do. 
Death is standing at your door." 

	Helen pulled the microphone slightly closer.  "This next
song is a bit more serious."


Blessed are they who seek wisdom rather than 
power for they shall not fear nor cause fear.

Blessed are they who seek good both for themselves 
and for their neighbors, for they shall have peace.

Blessed are they who seek cooperation in solving problems, 
for they shall know the joys of working together.

Blessed are the trustworthy, for they shall inspire trust.

Blessed are they who ask questions rather than only 
give answers, for they shall learn and be wise.

Blessed are they who respect the needs of 
others, for they shall have no enemies.

Blessed are they who are open to alternative 
solutions, for their burden shall be light.

Blessed are they who understand when apparent disagreements 
are really agreements disguised by different use 
of language, for their quarrels shall be few.

Blessed are they who prefer several good answers over 
the one perfect answer, for they shall be satisfied.

Blessed are they who seek what is right for all rather than only 
what is right for themselves, for they will have many friends.

Blessed are they who do not insist on their own way, but seek 
first truth and wisdom, for they will find many good ways.

Blessed are the kind and gentle, for they shall reap what they 
sow.

Blessed are they who love for they shall love life.

Blessed are they who are free from expectations 
for they shall be free indeed.

Blessed are they who accept others unconditionally, 
for they shall be called angels.

Twice blessed are they who enjoy life, 
for they know what is good.



	Her remaining songs were positive affirmations of her 
conviction that through your work, and through the friends
you love, true happiness will come.

	After the concert, the trio took their bow with grace, 
accepting the audience's enthusiastic applause. She felt warm 
with pride in her singing today. She glanced over at Bob, and 
caught his appreciative nod; he'd felt it too. 
	She reached for the microphone stand with one hand. 
"Now I'd like to intro. . . Yow!" She crumpled to the stage 
floor as a monstrous blue spark of light leaped from the 
direction of the microphone stand to her fingers. 
	When she opened her eyes many faces crowded her view. 
She lay on some soft mat and darkness still obscured her vision. 
A commanding mellow voice filled her awareness. "She's awake! 
Give her room!" 
	She felt her head with her hands. "What happened?" 
	"Some kind of electrical fault knocked you out." Bob, 
looking worried and concerned, took her hand. "You scared us 
a lot by passing out like that. How do you feel?" 
	She looked around. She found herself backstage behind 
a heavy curtain which blocked most of the light. No wonder she 
couldn't see very clearly! She began to feel a bit better. 
"I'll be fine in a minute. May I have a glass of water?" 
	Joe addressed the crowd around him. "Thanks for your 
concern, folks. But now we need to pack up our gear and clear 
the hall." 
	Except for the young man who had helped her place 
the chairs, the crowd dispersed. He stood, head slightly bowed, 
looking at them as if to ask permission to speak. When Joe 
nodded his head slightly, he spoke. "That electric spark didn't 
come from the microphone. I saw it come through the window. 
It flew in a straight line past the microphone stand right into 
her hand." 
	When he saw that their only responses were looks of 
astonishment, he turned, walked slowly away, pulled apart the 
heavy curtain, and left the hall. 
	Meanwhile, Senator Bellum and his companion had walked 
through the exit door on the opposite side of the hall. Senator 
Bellum spoke quietly to his companion. "She promised to 
introduce us. She didn't keep her promise." 
	His companion smiled. "You know, Will, you can be 
such a jerk." 
	Will heard the smile in his friend's voice. "Yes. We 
make a good investigative team for the ethics committee. I 
jerk the people around, and you look for guilty responses. 
We've caught more wrongdoers than anyone else has." 
	"True, but tonight's singer is not under investigation. 
We came only to enjoy her singing." 
	"You are right. However, we do need to maintain our 
reputation." 
	Helen heard their remarks as a silent voice in her 
head. She figured the voices must be only her imagination.
"Those guy dressed in formal dress were U.S. senators. Why do 
you suppose they came to our concert?" 
	Joe grinned. "Because I invited them."