1000-word excerpt

Dag turned away from his boss and began to stare at the half dozen or so goldfish swimming leisurely in the nearby aquarium. Bernard Craig, feature assignment editor at Swen, a weekly newsmagazine, had called Dag into his office but had been interrupted by a phone call. Dag wondered if the fish were male or female, and how one would go about determining their sex. To him a fish was a fishneither male nor female. He smiled faintly as he thought that while a fish's sex was not important to him, it certainly must be crucial to the fish.

He glanced furtively back at his boss, who had turned to look out his window while he spoke on the phone. Dag studied his profile. He was handsome, with a slightly Roman nose, graying wavy hair, dark brown eyes, and a neatly trimmed mustache. Dag tried to figure out if his red tie matched his brown suit. He wondered why his boss had called him into his office. He tried to recall if he had made any major blunders or had been guilty of flagrant misconduct. Abruptly his boss hung up the phone and turned to Dag.

"Dag, excuse me for the interruption," he said, speaking with a deep, resonant voice. He leaned back in his chair and propped his impeccably shined brown wingtip shoes up on his desk. "The reason I've called you in is to give you an assignment for a story."

He paused for a few seconds and frowned. Dag thought the lines on his forehead resembled a map of Mongolia he had seen in a geography book.

"You're Catholic, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Dag replied.

"Good."

He cleared his throat and continued, choosing his words carefully.

"I was watching the news on TV last night and saw a bunch of people falling over at what I think they said was acharismatic prayer meeting. It was the damndest thing. This Catholic priest would no sooner touch someone, and they would keel overlike they had been zapped with some kind of high voltage or something. And there was always some guy catching them as they toppled over. As I watched, I got to wondering whether it was real or fake. Were those people falling down because of some spiritual power in the priest? Or were they faking it? I couldn't tell. It could have been either one."

He moved his shoes to the floor and stood up and started pacing back and forth behind his desk. He reached a hand up and scratched the bald spot on the back of his head.

"Here's what I was thinking. I want a good story aboutI think they call it the Charismatic Renewal. Not just any kind of story. I want a great story. Here's what I want you to do. I want you to find out where the nearest Catholic charismatic prayer meeting is and start attending on a regular basis. I want you to get involved. I want you to become one of them. And when you feel you are sufficiently familiar with theCharismatic Renewal, I want you to write a story about it."

He paused to study the goldfish. Then he picked up a small box of fish food and tossed some into the tank. Dag thought the food looked like flakes of thin cardboard.

"What do you think of my idea so far?" he asked, watching the goldfish scramble for the food.

"It sounds good to me. I don't know a thing about this Charismatic Renewal, but I can readily see if I get involved with it, I could learn about it in a hurry."

"That's exactly what I want you to do. I want this story written in the first person. I want a personal account of someone who becomes involved with the Charismatic Renewal, or whatever you call it, and knows all about it, inside and out. I want you to find out what it feels like to be prayed over. What it feels like to topple over when some priest lays hands on you. What it feels like to catch someone who has toppled over."

He turned from the aquarium and resumed his pacing again.

"I don't know much about the Charismatic Renewal except that I've been seeing quite a bit of that kind of stuff on TV, and I know therein lies a good story. If it's all true: it's a good story. If it's all fake: it's still a good story. No matter what you find out, it's a win-win situation. What do you think?"

"Sounds like it has the makings of a great story. I'll take a crack at it. I'll get involved with it right away. I'll go to Father Blitzer, my pastor, and find out about this Charismatic Renewal."

His boss strode around his desk and grasped Dag's hand.

"Good. Report back to me in a week and let me know what you're doing."

Dag stood up and returned the handshake.

"Yes, sir. I'll get right on it."

Dag turned to leave and almost made it to the door when his boss spoke out again.

"Oh, by the way. Have you interviewed that Navakov woman yet? You know, the one who wrote the book about all men being womanizers?"

"No, sir. I've been trying to nail her down for an interview, but she's pretty difficult to reach. I'll try calling her again."

Dag turned to leave again, and his boss stopped him again. "Oh, and one more thing about thatCharismatic Renewal assignment. The way to make something like this really authentic is to not tell a soulnot even your wife. It's our secret. Okay?"

"Yes, sir. It's our secret," Dag smiled.

This time he made it out the door before his boss spoke again.

On his way back to his office, Dag stopped in the men's room. Standing before the mirror running a comb through his sandy hair, he glanced absentmindedly at his receding hairline. He pushed back his thick eyebrows, which seemed to stand guard over his deep blue eyes.

He smiled faintly at the image of his clean-shaven face as he contemplated his new assignment. He had to find out about the Charismatic Renewal. Not only that, but he had to become personally involved with it. He wondered what it would be likeif it would be boring.