Invisible man

            I looked at him and grinned. He had gray eyes and his irises were very wide, the muscles ridged out on his jaws. I had his guard down and he was swinging wild.

            "Not with God, nor with your wife, Brother," I told him. "I've never met either. But I've worked among the people up here. Ask your wife to take you around to the gin mills and the barber shops and the juke joints and the churches, Brother. Yes, and the beauty parlors on Saturdays when they're frying hair. A whole unrecorded history is spoken then, Brother. You wouldn't believe it but it's true. Tell her to take you to stand in the areaway of a cheap tenement at night and listen to what is said. Put her out on the corner, let her tell you what's being put down. You'll learn that a lot of people are angry because we failed to lead them in action. I'll stand on that as I stand on what I see and feel and on what I've heard, and what I know."

            "No," Brother Jack said, getting to his feet, "you'll stand on the decision of the committee. We've had enough of this. The committee makes your decisions and it is not its practice to give undue importance to the mistaken notions of the people. What's happened to your discipline?"

            "I'm not arguing against discipline. I'm trying to be useful. I'm trying to point out a part of reality which the committee seems to have missed. With just one demonstration we could --"

            "The committee has decided against such demonstrations," Brother Jack said. "Such methods are no longer effective."

            Something seemed to move out from under me, and out of the corner of my eye I was suddenly aware of objects on the dark side of the hall. "But didn't anyone see what happened today?" I said. "What was that, a dream? What was ineffective about that crowd?"

            "Such crowds are only our raw materials, one of the raw materials to be shaped to our program."

            I looked around the table and shook my head. "No wonder they insult me and accuse us of betraying them . . ."

            There was a sudden movement.

            "Repeat that," Brother Jack shouted, stepping forward.

            "It's true, I'll repeat it. Until this afternoon they've been saying that the Brotherhood betrayed them. I'm telling you what's been said to me, and that it why Brother Clifton disappeared."

            "That's an indefensible lie," Brother Jack said.

            And I looked at him slowly now, thinking, If this is it, this is it . . . "Don't call me that," I said softly. "Don't ever call me that, none of you. I've told you what I've heard." My hand was in my pocket now, Brother Tarp's leg chain around my knuckles. I looked at each of them individually, trying to hold myself back and yet feeling it getting away from me. My head was whirling as though I were riding a supersonic merry-go-round. Jack looked at me, a new interest behind his eyes, leaned forward.

            "So you've heard it," he said. "Very well, so now hear this: We do not shape our policies to the mistaken and infantile notions of the man in the street. Our job is not to ask them what they think but to tell them!"

            "You've said that," I said, "and that's one thing you can tell them yourself. Who are you, anyway, the great white father?"

            "Not their father, their leader. And .your leader. And don't forget it."

            "My leader sure, but what's your exact relationship to them?"

            His red head bristled. "The leader. As leader of the Brotherhood, I am their leader."

            "But are you sure you aren't their great white father?" I said, watching him closely, aware of the hot silence and feeling tension race from my toes to my legs as I drew my feet quickly beneath me. "Wouldn't it be better if they called you Marse Jack?"