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“You’re director of marketing. What’s propaganda if it isn’t marketing?”
“Well, when you put it that way,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
er Twenty
I had to find the source of the music before the army-creating spell could be completed. I looked around for anyone who looked like a DJ, but there was no one doing anything so obvious as spinning records while wearing headphones. I walked as casually as I could around the balcony, searching for signs of a stereo system, computer, or anything else that might be providing the music.
When I reached the far side, I noticed that behind the portal on the lower level there was a table with electronic equipment on it. Thinking that would be my best bet, I continued around the balcony to the staircase I’d used earlier and made my way to the dance floor.
I had to dance my way across the floor again, mimicking the elves’ moves—step, kick, spin, clap hands. They were all so graceful, even while being controlled, that I felt horribly klutzy in comparison. It reminded me of the one high school dance I’d dared to go to, early in my freshman year. It had been such an awkward experience that I’d avoided dances ever since. This was a hundred times worse. At that high school dance, my friends’ lives hadn’t been at stake.
When I neared the portal, I worked my way to the edge of the room so I could get around behind it. Although this controlled dancing was ominous to watch, it was easier for me to blend with. I was slightly less awkward when I didn’t have to make up my own dance moves. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice that I was always about a beat behind.
They must not have expected any threat, since there was no guard at the sound system. I reached the table and found to my great relief that the stereo had a dock with an iPod almost identical to Jake’s, just in a different color. I wouldn’t need help making this work. I took Jake’s iPod out of my pocket and waited for the current song to end. Then, moving quickly, I removed one player from the dock, stuck the other one in, and hit “play.” The music continued with only a slightly longer-than-usual pause between songs, and no one seemed to notice the break.
Sticking the other iPod in my pocket, I hurried away from the sound system and blended back into the crowd. Jake had really outdone himself in finding songs you couldn’t help but want to dance to. Even I had no choice but to move my feet. I was so relieved to have accomplished my goal that I let myself give in to it with some exuberance. Besides, I figured getting busy on the dance floor was good for my cover.
The intense air in the room eased significantly by the end of Jake’s first song. The dancers went back to doing their own thing. By the second, some of the dancers had odd looks crossing their faces. They looked a lot like our people had when we’d broken the spell on them. The third song was a slower ballad, and everyone stopped dancing just to listen to it.
During the song, a murmur ran through the room, gradually rising in volume. The murmur grew more agitated, and then I heard someone near me say, “Where are we?”
Another asked, “What did they do to us?” There were other similar questions being asked all around me, and then I saw an elf darting for the stairs.
When he reached the balcony, he leaned over the railing and shouted, “All of you, listen to me!”
“Who are you?” someone called out.
“I am your commander, and you will do as I say.”
The army just stared at him, not snapping to attention or doing anything that looked like a response to an order. I believed the spell was well and truly broken. I edged away from the increasingly angry elves and took out my new cell phone to call Rod. “It worked!” I said.
“Great. I’ll let Sam know, and I’ll join you.”
The elf on the balcony cried out, “You’re here to fight for your people! They’ve been mistreated and exploited in this world, and you’re here to win their freedom!”
In a miracle of bad timing, Aretha Franklin’s “Think” started playing, with its “Freedom!” chorus coming through loud and clear. The mood shifted, and the elven army turned to the would-be commander. Most of them looked like they were interested in what he had to say.
“And now I think we may need a Plan B,” I said into the phone to Rod. “Propaganda seems to be working.”
“What’s the situation?” Rod asked.
“One elf is convincing the soldiers that they need to fight for the freedom of elves in this place. He said he’s their commander.”
“This situation should be right up your alley.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re director of marketing. What’s propaganda if it isn’t marketing?”
“Well, when you put it that way,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
After ending the call, I crept back to the stereo and hit the “forward” button to move to the next song before Aretha could whip the army into a freedom-fighting frenzy. In a miracle that made me want to kiss Jake, the next song was the Bee Gees’ “Jive Talking,” and the combination of the harmonies, the danceable beat, and the lyrics questioning someone’s veracity shifted the room’s mood once again. The elves went back to dancing even as the commander shouted at them.
I slipped back into the middle of the crowd and said loudly enough to be heard by the people around me, “If it’s about freedom, then why did they take us against our will? They could have talked to us about freeing our brethren.” Then I ducked out of the way before anyone could notice who’d been talking. A ripple of conversation spread.
I moved to another part of the room and said, “It makes you wonder what’s really going on here. Are these people trying to free this world’s elves, or keep them from being free?” Again, I ducked out of the way and let the elves discuss that. Judging from the rise in conversation volume, I thought the seeds I’d planted must be growing.
I jumped when someone touched me on the shoulder, and I turned to see Rod. “How’s it going?” he asked.
