The Shift Key by John Brunner

with eyes aflame.
    ‘Who said that?’
    Colin, raising the bar-flap to intervene, paused in mid-movement as Rosie touched his arm.
    ‘Who said that?’ Joyce repeated, advancing the way she’d come. ‘Whichever of you fools it was, you don’t know what you’re talking about! Don’t you realize this village is in the grip of the Evil One?’
    ‘Oh Lord,’ Steven whispered. ‘She must have been in church and heard old Phibson’s rantings …’
    Stick gave him a curious glance, but had no time to say anything before Joyce blasted on.
    ‘That’s what made Parson talk so odd at meeting! That’s what made my Harry act the way he did – and you may stuff
that
down your busted gob, Ken Pecklow! Best farmer in the county, is my Harry! ’Spite of all!’
    ‘Joyce!’ – from landlord Colin.
    ‘You be quiet! You’re a vessel of evil yourself! This place is curst! You and your drink corrupt even those who seek the godly Light! You’re a limb of Satan!’
    Colin’s plump-jowled face grew red. He said, ‘If that’s so, why did you beg me for a bottle of gin today?
And
on tick!’
    Harry had been rising slowly from his chair. Now he ran forward, but too late. Joyce’s temper had reached fever pitch.
    She screamed: ‘The Evil One is loose in Weyharrow! Itmust be true! The parson told us so! Get thee behind me, all thou forces of Babylon! Put on sackcloth and ashes and beg forgivement –
ness
… Haraharcha wumble cloturanid orgle-fopsy premble prow!’
    ‘Hmm!’ Stick murmured. That must be what they call “speaking in tongues”. She used to do it a lot, they say, over at this church they threw her out of.’
    But by now Joyce was not content with speaking. Set on repeating her coup with that tableful of glasses, she made to sweep her handbag along the bar. Just in time, Rosie caught her wrist in a grip that belied the pulpy plumpness of her arm.
    ‘Harry,’ she said calmly, ‘I think you’d better take her home.’
    ‘I will!’ Harry seized his wife. ‘Come along!’
    ‘No! No!’ Joyce shrieked. ‘I have to tell everyone what Parson said! I have to tell how Weyharrow is infested with devils and you were the first to fall into their trap! I must! I –!’
    The door slammed on her cries, as Harry’s friends helped him to lead her away.
    There was a dead pause. Ken Pecklow broke it with a roar of laughter.
    ‘Well, all of you heard that, didn’t you? That’ll be their defence in court, no doubt, when my case comes to be heard against them! But who’s going to believe Harry was led by the Devil to turn his cows into my turnips? Don’t Old Nick have bigger fish to fry? We’ll see Harry in the looney bin before we’re through – and Joyce as well!’
    Abruptly he realized that no one else was laughing.
    ‘Well,’ he concluded awkwardly, ‘I best get along too.’
    As the door closed behind him, Stick remembered that his glass wasn’t empty yet. Reaching for it, he said, ‘And I’d better do the same. Carry on talking among yourselves. I didn’t mean to interrupt –’
    ‘Hang on,’ Steven broke in, his face very pale. ‘Stick – did you really say Stick?’
    ‘That’s what I generally get called.’
    ‘You seem to know a lot about the people here. Far more than I do, at any rate. I’d like to talk to you for a bit. Have another. Or something else?’
    ‘Same again, and thanks!’
    ‘Jenny?’
    ‘Yes please!’
    While Steven was collecting fresh drinks, conversation resumed among the rest of the customers. Jenny’s eyes darted hither and yon, fixing at last on a brown-haired woman on a stool at the bar who had earlier been talking animatedly with a succession of young men. Now they all seemed to be leaving in the wake of Ken and Harry, she – Moira – was looking extremely miffed.
    From the doorway one man glanced back and cocked an eyebrow. Though clearly less than eager, she gathered her bag and gloves, emptied her glass, and followed him.
    ‘I won’t ever make it as a