Fury and the Power by John Farris

cybernetics, mass psychology, and chaos theory at Georgia State—"
    "Anthropology and mass psychology? Your ideal occupation would be running a strip club."
    "It all comes in handy sometimes where I do pull my paycheck. Matt, what I know about Jimmy so far bothers hell out of me."
    "We don't need to get too involved here" Ronyak cautioned yet again. "They laid Skeldon to rest this morning up there in Lumpkin County. Five thousand mourners and the Goodyear blimp. Chief, the Mayor, the goddamn Governor , they just want this one off the books, forget all the National Enquirer crap about cults and Dark Forces at work."
    "Nothing that sinister."
    "You said the devil."
    "Devil's in all of us, dude. Nowadays he's called 'The Stress of Modern Living."'
    "Clears that up."
    "Jimmy snapped. Like you said."
    "Then what was that stuff you were talking, the artistic brain?"
    "Atavistic. Primal. The reptilian complex of the triune brain, which doesn't have the neural circuitry that allows us modern folk to cope with new situations. Reptilian mentality is instinctive, limited to flight or fight. 'Snapping' is another way of sayin' that Jimmy underwent a rapid personality change. Puberty can be chaotic. The hormone frenzy. Sexual, parental, and peer-group pressures. Man said once, 'Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle.' My daddy had that on a bronze plaque on his desk. He was a bank loan officer, until stomach ulcers did him in."
    "Mine was pretty well eat up by adult-onset diabetes."
    "Think Jimmy didn't have a shitload of pressure on him, even if he didn't allow it to show? This's the age of information overload. Wars everywhere; atrocities, genocide, famine, disease. Economy's a loser, layoffs, no jobs. Global warming, disappearing rain forests, the poles are shifting, the ozone fuckin' layer's about to disappear, we'll all get skin cancer if terrorists with suitcase nukes don't get us first. Child pornographers, stalkers, rapists, politicians. Not necessarily in that order. Dirty water, air's worse, cows are crazy, can't eat meat. Bitch, moan, sob. Life's tough, school's tougher, football is a grind. Some of these high school coaches are sadistic morons. Summer camps, temperature on the fields around here can hit 130 degrees. Get tough, suck it up, God damn you, Nixon, dig ; you wanta play football for me this year? Yes, sir, yes, sir .
    "Now Jimmy, don't you know he could've been burdened with guilt notions about the divorce? My fault, shoulda done somethin', kept Mom and Dad together . So he's sittin' there in that arena for an hour listening to a famous and respected preacher pound it into his head that he's nothing but a guilty little shit, a sinner bound for hell because of his sins. Maybe that wasn't exactly Pledger Lee's style, but it's pretty much the same message with all of them. Come forth and open your heart to Jesus. Christ died for your sins. Come and be saved; you're nothin' without Him, a crispy critter. But Skeldon might've had the exact reverse effect on Jimmy—denial first, then extreme anger with at last something to focus it all on:   this man down there who is tormenting him. Then snap , baby."
    After a few moments Ronyak nodded.
    "Okay. You're happy now, right? It all makes sense to you."
    "Fact is, makes no sense a'tall."
    Ronyak grimaced. "I need to use the bathroom. Fuckin' ice tea goes right through me."
    "'Cause there have been two other cases recently of violent, animal like attacks on prominent religious figures. November seventh of last year in Chandrapur, India. A so-called Spiritual Master named Sai Rampa had his own throat ripped out by a twenty-four-year-old woman from Karlsruhe, Germany, who had previously worked as an au pair in the states, guess where? Vegas.
    "In February the Dalai Lama, visiting some of the movie-star gong-beaters in Los Angeles, received a flesh wound on the chin when a nineteen-year-old Vietnamese kid made a try for him outside the Beverly Hilton. Misjudged