The ten-year-old sneered. "Yah! That's the new 1993 Lockheed X69-P37
experimental ship. I got a model last week."

"No, no, lad! The Ipplinger starship, come to Earth to bring the
blessings of Ippling's culture to this backwards planet. Ippling will
save you from wars and ills, from poverty and hatred. Ippling will be
your destiny. Follow me, Boswellister! Ippling will lead you to the
stars! Glory for all!" Boswellister patted the boy on the head.

"Keep your hands off me, you big stiff!"

Boswellister gulped and pointed upwards. "See the Ipplinger starship!"

"Aah! Shuddup!"

His mother jerked his arm in reproof. "How many times I've gotta tell
you not to say, shuddup. Say, SHUT UP! S-H-U-T U-P!"

"Aah!" the boy said in disgust. "Everybody knows starships are big
rockets!" He'd said the final word; he had no more interest in
Boswellister, for the fire engines were coming.

* * * * *

They sirened down Ventura and turned up Laurel Canyon, their heavy
motors, air horns and sirens drowning out Boswellister's speech. Cars
had piled up at the intersection to wait for the fire engines to make
their swing, and Boswellister leaped to the middle of the intersection
as soon as the trucks had turned.

He held up his arms and went into his _People of Earth_ spiel again. But
angry, blasting horns cut his voice to nothing. The drivers pressed
close in on him, pinpointing him in the middle of the intersection.
Shouts and jeers and horns; the roaring scream of fire engines; people
running and shouting; Ventura at Laurel Canyon was a cacophonous
maelstrom.

A traffic officer screeched his copcycle to a halt and made his way to
the center of the mass of tangled traffic. He blew his whistle and waved
his arms, ordering Boswellister to the sidewalk, but Boswellister
refused to move. He had his mission on Earth.

Boswellister shouted over the piled-up noise, waving his hand to the
sky, calling to them to follow his lead to the glory of Ippling.

The officer grabbed his coat collar and hustled him to the sidewalk.
"You're under arrest!"

"You can't arrest _me_!" Boswellister squirmed and jerked away. He
shouted, "Follow me!" and ran north, a good part of the crowd after him.
He shrieked an order into the pickup while he ran over the bridge
towards Moorpark.

A woman spotted the Ipplinger starship that followed overhead. "Free
samples!" she screamed, and those who had lagged behind fell int