Free 1634: Turn Your Radio On by Eric Flint Page A

wrong.”
    ****
    What a book it was! The adventures of this woman of faith from that other future read like an up-time adventure novel.
    But it wasn't until she left her second husband that the book started to reveal to Fischer a model for how he could advance the faith in this time. In very long, scientific words that he would have to look up, the book seemed to say that a scientifically creditable reason might lie beneath faith healing. That there may be a link to the chemicals the body produces when in the throes of hysteria, and physical changes.
    Fischer wasn't so sure that he believed that St. John the Baptist should be lumped in with whoever this "Sister Teresa" was or if it was right to question how God decided to accomplish his miracles. Still, however imperfect the explanation, perhaps it could help him recognize the congregants who offer fertile ground to allow God's will to be accomplished in their life.
    "Neuropeptides. Synovial membranes. What words are these?" Fischer read out loud. But it was clear that this author believed that even if the miracles had occurred using purely scientific means that made them no less miracles of the spirit. But profound belief still needed the physical touch of the healer to finish the job.
    Fischer marked his place and laid the book on his lap. So the power of faith depends on the collective belief of the members present. He remembered that in the Bible it said, "Wherever two or more of you are gathered in His name . . . "
    The more people believe miracles are going to happen, the more miracles do happen. Thinking back to the atmosphere of the revival that had brought him to the Pentecostal faith, he understood what happened. "I must learn to involve the congregation in a much more emotional way. More like Reverend Chalker would have if he were my age."
    When Fischer tried to read on, he could hardly concentrate for all the thoughts that were running through his mind.
    ****
    Marc Kronzburg was engaging in his favorite morning pastime—reading the local newspapers at Bridges Books and Coffeehouse. Not that Der Kronz cared two Pfennigs about any story that the local newspapers reported on. For that, he certainly could depend on the better and faster coverage of his own beloved radio station.
    No. Der Kronz was again reading the advertisements.
    "Oh no! They could have bought five more thirty second spots for what they wasted on this half page!" He grimaced. Another sip of the house espresso followed by a scribbled note to record a new concept. It would be ready for his pitch for the next he saw the shop owner who had placed this poorly conceived waste of money. Only then did he turn the page to feast on the delectable agony of more missed advertising dollars. Not to mention their resulting commissions.
    "Mr. Kronzburg?"
    Marc looked up at the unexpected interruption. "Mrs. Kurger! What a wonderful surprise to see you here this morning. I was just thinking about you.
    "See . . . " Marc bolted to his feet and flipped the newspaper back a few pages to point at a half page ad. "Great stuff for the Kurger Emporium!
    "I was just thinking how much better it would work for you if we put a series of thirties on the station to instruct all our listeners to run out and buy a paper to look at it!"
    "Yes, I'm sure we can talk about that soon, Mr. Kronzburg," Maria said, cutting Marc off. "Right now, however, I'd like to talk with you about buying an hour."
    Maria could practically see the wheels rolling in Marc's eyes. "An hour ? Why, that's one hundred and twenty thirty second spots! That's wonderful! How long of a period would you like to space out this spot buy? May I suggest . . . "
    "I'm sorry, Mr. Kronzburg." Maria knew that it was Marc's nature to take charge of any conversation and lead it to buying spot ads on VOA. "That's not what I meant. What we'd like is to buy a whole hour on your radio station every Saturday night."
    For once, Der Kronz was quiet. Without moving one muscle