Lost and deeply discouraged, Joenes lay down on the floor, his great fatigue allowing him no other choice. He stretched out and within a minute fell asleep.
THE STORY OF THESEUS
Joenes awoke later with a feeling of uneasiness. Standing up, he heard a sound of footsteps coming down the corridor.
Soon he saw the maker of the footsteps. He was a man, tall and in the prime of life, with a face both intelligent and suspicious. This man held a huge ball of string mounted on a spindle. As he walked, he unwound the string, which lay on the floor of the corridor and glittered faintly.
As soon as he saw Joenes, the man’s face tightened into angry lines. He drew a revolver from his belt and took aim.
Joenes called out, “Wait! Whatever you think, I have never done you any harm!”
Controlling himself with obvious effort, the man did not pull the trigger. His eyes, which had gone blank and dangerous, regained a normal appearance. He put the revolver back in his belt and said, “I am very sorry to have startled you. The truth is, I thought you were someone else.”
“Do I look like him?” Joenes asked.
“Not really,” the man said. “But I become nervous in this damnable place and tend to shoot first and think second. Still, my mission is so vital that these actions of a hasty and high-strung nature can surely be forgiven.”
“What is your mission?” Joenes asked.
The man’s face glowed when Joenes asked that question. Proudly he said, “My mission is to bring peace, happiness, and freedom to the world.”
“That’s quite a lot,” Joenes said.
“I could never be satisfied with anything less,” the man said. “Mark my name well. It is George P. Theseus, and I confidently expect to be remembered as the man who destroyed dictatorship and freed the people. The deed which I do here will live as a symbol to all men, and will also be good and just in its own right.”
“What deed are you going to do?” Joenes asked.
“Singlehanded, I am going to kill a tyrant,” Thesus said. “This man has managed to find a position of power within the building, and many gullible fools think he is a benefactor because he orders the building of dams to control floods, distributes food to the starving, finances medical work for the sick, and does many other gaudy things of that sort. This may deceive some people, but it does not deceive me.”
“If he really does that work,” Joenes said, “then he does indeed sound like a benefactor.”
“I might have expected you to say that,” Theseus said bitterly. “His tricks have taken you in, just as they have taken in most people. I cannot hope to change your mind. I have no skill at devious argument, while that man has the world’s best propagandists at his service. My vindication must rest with the future. For now, I can only tell what I know, and tell it in a blunt, unpleasing manner.”
“I will be very pleased to hear,” Joenes said.
“Well then,” Theseus said, “consider this. In order to do his good deeds, this man had to reach high office. To reach high office, he passed out bribes and sowed dissension, divided people into warring factions, killed off those who opposed him, corrupted the influential few and starved the needy many. At last, when his power was absolute, he engaged in public works. But not out of love for the public. Instead, he did it as you or I might weed a garden, so that he might have something pleasant to look at instead of something ugly. This is how it is with tyrants, who will do anything to obtain power, and thereby create and perpetuate the very evils they purport to cure.”
Joenes was very moved by Theseus’s speech, but a little suspicious also, because Theseus had a shifty and dangerous look. So Joenes spoke with caution, saying, “I can certainly understand why you want to kill this man.”
“No you can’t,” Theseus said morosely. “You probably think that I’m filled with nothing but hot air and ideals, a sort of pious madman with a gun. Well, you’re wrong. I’m an ordinary sort of man, and if I can perform a good deed and win a reputation, then I’m happy to. But my action against this tyrant is primarily for personal reasons.”
“How so?” Joenes asked.
‘This tyrant,” Theseus said, “has private tastes which are as perverted as the wild passions which drove him to power. Information such as this is usually kept secret, or scoffed at as the ravings of envious fools. His skilled propagandists see to that. But I know the truth.
“This great man came driving through my town one day in his armored black Cadillac, secure behind bullet-proof glass, puffing a big cigar and waving to the crowds. Then his eye chanced to fall upon a little girl in the crowd, and he ordered his car to stop.
“His bodyguards chased the people away, except for a few who watched from cellars and rooftops, unseen but seeing. Then the tyrant stepped out of his car and walked up to the little girl. He offered her ice cream and sweets, and begged her to get into the car with him.
“Some of the waiting men understood what was happening, and rushed out to rescue the child. But the bodyguards shot and killed those men. They did so with silenced guns so as not to startle the girl, who was told that the men had decided to go to sleep for a while.
“Although completely innocent, the child had her suspicions. Something in the tyrant’s sweating red face and thick trembling lips must have frightened her. So, even though she wanted the ice cream and candy, she stood irresolute while the tyrant trembled with lust, and those of us watching helpless in the cellars sweated out of fear for her.
“After looking wistfully at the gorgeous array of sweets and observing the tyrant’s nervous movements, the little girl made up her mind. She would go in the car, she said, if her playmates could go with her. In the terrible vulnerability of her innocence, the child thought she would be safe among her playmates.
“The tyrant went purple with joy. It was evident that this was more than he dared hope for. The more the merrier, that was his sinister motto. He told the girl to bring along all the playmates she wished, and the girl called for her friends.
‘These children came flocking to the black Cadillac. They would have come even without her summons, for the tyrant had had the wit to turn on his car radio, which played the most marvelous and enticing music.
“Music playing, sweets distributed, the tyrant herded them all into his enormous car and closed the door. His bodyguard closed around him, mounted on their powerful motorcycles. Then they all sped away, bound for the most shameful debaucheries in the tyrant’s private pleasure room. Those children have never been heard of again. And that first little girl, as you may have guessed, was my own sister, taken under my eyes, with townspeople lying dead on the pavement near her, and with me in the cellar powerless to help.”
Theseus wiped his eyes, which were now streaming freely. He said to Joenes, “Now you know the real and personal reasons why I am going to kill the tyrant. To destroy his evil, to avenge my slain friends, to rescue the poor children, but above all, to find my poor sister. I am no hero, I am nothing but an ordinary man. But events have forced me to perform this righteous action.”
Joenes, whose own eyes were far from dry, embraced Theseus and said, “I wish you good fortune on your righteous quest, and I only hope you can succeed.
“I have my hopes,” Theseus said. “And I am not without the determination and guile necessary for this difficult work. To begin with, I sought out the tyrant’s daughter. I ingratiated myself with her, used every winning way I could think of, until at last she fell in love with me. Then I debauched her, and this gave me some satisfaction since she was not far from my poor sister’s age. Since she desired marriage, I promised I would marry her, although I would rather slit my throat instead. And I explained to her very artfully what sort of man her father was. At first she would not believe me, the little idiot loved her tyrant father so! But she loved me more, and slowly became convinced of the truth of everything I said. Then, as the final step, I sought her aid, in my plan to kill her father. You can imagine how difficult that was. Th
e horrible little girl did not want her daddy destroyed, no matter how evil he was, no matter what he had done. But I threatened to leave her forever if she would not help me; and between love of me and love of her father she was nearly driven mad. Over and over she begged me to forget the past, which no action could erase. Come away with her, she said, and live in some place far from her father, and never think of him but only of her. As though I could ever look at her and not see her father’s features! For days she held back, thinking she could convince me to do what she wanted. Endlessly she declared her love for me, stating it in the most exaggerated and hysterical terms. She would never allow us to be parted, she swore, and if death should befall me, then she would kill herself, too. And a great deal of similar nonsense, which, as a sensible man, I found most distasteful.
“At last I turned from her and took my leave. Then her courage crumbled. This young monster, filled with the most exquisite selfloathing, said she would assist me in murdering her beloved father, if only I would swear never to leave her. And of course I swore what she wanted. I would have promised anything to get the assistance I needed.
“She told me what she alone knew; where her father’s office could be found in this great building. And she also gave me this bail of string so that I could mark my way and leave quickly once the deed was done. And she herself gave me this revolver. And so here I am, on my way to the tyrant’s office.”
Joenes said, “You have not found him yet, I see?”
“Not yet,” Theseus answered. “The corridors here are very long and winding, as you must have observed yourself. Also, I’ve had some bad luck. As I mentioned, I am of a hasty disposition and therefore inclined to shoot first and think second. Because of that, quite accidentally, I shot and killed a man in officer’s uniform not long ago. He came upon me suddenly, and I fired without thinking.”
“Was it the mapmaker?” Joenes asked.
“I do not know who he was,” Theseus answered. “But he wore a colonel’s badges, and he seemed to have a kindly face.”
“It was the mapmaker,” Joenes said.
“I am very sorry about it,” Theseus said. “But I am even sorrier about the three others I killed in these hallways. I must be an unlucky man.”
“Who were they?” Joenes asked.
“To ray great sorrow, they were three of the children I had come to rescue. They must have slipped out of the tyrant’s rooms and tried to reach freedom. I shot them as I shot the officer, and as I nearly shot you; that is, hastily, before they had a chance to speak. I cannot describe my feelings of regret, and my increased determination that the tyrant shall pay for all this.”
“What will you do about his daughter?” Joenes asked.
“I won’t follow my natural instincts and kill her,” Theseus said. “But that ugly little bitch will never see me again. And I will pray that the tyrant’s whelp dies of a broken heart.”
So saying, Theseus turned his wrathful countenance toward the dim corridors stretching before him.
“And now,” he said, “I must go about my work. Goodbye, my friend, and wish me luck.”
Theseus walked briskly away, unwinding his glittering cord as he went. Joenes watched until he had vanished around a corner. For a time he could hear receding footsteps, and then there was no sound at all.
Suddenly a woman appeared in the corridor behind Joenes.
She was very young, hardly more than a child. She was plump and red-faced, and her eyes glittered insanely. She walked silently, following after Theseus. And as she walked, she gathered up the string he had so carefully laid down. She had a huge ball of it in her hands, and she continued winding as she came near Joenes, obliterating the trail by which Theseus had thought to return.
As she passed Joenes, she turned and looked at him, and her face was wild with rage and grief. She said not one word, but put a finger to her lips indicating silence. Then she walked swiftly on, gathering the string as she went.
She was gone as swiftly as she had come, and the corridor was deserted. Joenes stared in both directions, but saw nothing to indicate that either Theseus or the girl had ever passed his way. He rubbed his eyes, and once again lay down and fell asleep.
THE STORY OF MIXOTAURUS
Joenes was roughly shaken awake. He sprang to his feet, and saw that the hall around him was no longer ancient and decayed, but instead was gleaming and modern. The man who had awakened him was very large through the shoulders, even larger in the paunch, and had a broad, stern, no-nonsense face. No one could have mistaken this man for anything but an official.
“You’re Joenes?” the official asked. “Well, if you’ve finished your nap, I suppose we can get to work.”
Joenes expressed his deep regret that he had been sleeping instead of looking for the office to which he had been sent.
“It doesn’t matter,” the official said. “We have our protocol here, but I hope we’re not stuffy. As a matter of fact, its just as well that you slept. I had been situated in an entirely different part of the building, and I received urgent orders from the Security Chief to move my office here and to effect any repairs I thought necessary. The workman found you asleep and decided not to bother you. They did their work in silence, moving you only to repair the piece of floor you lay upon. Yon didn’t even wake up when they moved you.”
Joenes looked with increasing amazement at the vast amount of work which had been done while he slept. He turned to the office door, where before there had been only a decayed wall. On that door was neatly stenciled: Room 18891, floor 12, level 6 wing 63, subsection AJB-2. This was the exact address which he had been looking for in vain; and Joenes expressed surprise at the manner in which his search had ended.
“Nothing to be surprised about,” the official said. “This is quite an ordinary business procedure here. The highest officials not only know the building and all its contents, but they are also aware of every person’s movements within the building. They know only too well the difficulties which a stranger encounters here; and unfortunately, there are very strict laws against helping strangers. But the officials circumvent the law from time to time by moving the office to meet the searcher. Reasonable, eh? Now come in and we’ll get to work.”
Within the office there was a large desk piled high with papers, and three ringing telephones. The official asked Joenes to take a chair while he dealt with the telephones. He did so with dispatch.
“Speak up man!” he roared into the first telephone. “What’s that? Mississippi flooding again? Build a dam! Build ten dams, but get it under control. Send me a memo when you’re finished.”
“Yes, I can hear you,” he shouted into the second telephone. “Starvation in the Panhandle? Distribute food at once! Just sign my name at the government warehouse.”
“Calm down and let’s hear about it,” he bellowed into the third telephone. “Plague sweeping Los Angeles? Fly vaccine in there at once, and send me a wire when it’s under control.”
The official put down the last of his telephones and said to Joenes, “Those idiotic assistants of mine panic at the slightest thing. Those gutless wonders wouldn’t pull a drowning baby out of a bathtub without calling me first for authorization!”
Joenes had listened to the official’s swift and decisive words over the telephones, and a suspicion had crossed his mind. He said, “I’m not absolutely certain of this, but I believe that a certain aggrieved young man—”
“—is trying to assassinate me,” the official finished for him. “That’s it, isn’t it? Well, I took care of him half an hour ago. You don’t catch Edwin J. Minotaurus napping. My guards took him away, and he’ll probably get life imprisonment.
But don’t tell anyone.”
“Why not?” Joenes asked.
“Bad publicity,” Minotaurus said. “Especially his affair with my daughter, whom, incidentally, he knocked up. I told that little halfwit to bring her friends to the house, but no, she has to sneak out and have dates with anarchists! Were giving ou
t a specially prepared story that this Theseus fellow wounded me so severely that the doctors have despaired of my life; and that he escaped and married my daughter. You can see the value of a story like that.”
“Not too clearly,” Joenes said. “Why damn it all, it builds up sympathy for me!” Minotaurus said. “People will feel sorry when they hear that I’m at the point of death. And they’ll feel even sorrier when they learn that my only daughter has married-my assassin. You see, in spite of my proven abilities, the rabble doesn’t like me. This story should win them over.”
“It’s very ingenious,” Joenes said.
“Thank you,” said Minotaurus. “Frankly, I had been worrying about my public image for quite some time, and if this moron with his string and his revolver hadn’t come along, I would have had to hire somebody. I just hope the newspapers handle the story properly.”
“Is there any doubt about that?” Joenes asked.
“Oh, they’ll print what I tell them,” Minotaurus said moodily. “And I’ve hired a man to do a book about it, and there’ll be a play, and a movie based on the book. Don’t worry, I’ll milk this for all it’s worth.”
“What have you told them to write about your daughter?” Joenes asked.
“Well, as I said, she marries this anarchist fellow. And then in a year or two we publish an account of their divorce. Have to give the child a name, you know. But God knows that those idiots will write about my poor fat little Ariadne. Probably make her out to be beautiful, thinking it will please me. And the filthy scum who read this sort of thing will cry, and ask for more. Even kings and presidents, who should know better, will read these lies in preference to a good honest book of statistics. The human race is largely composed of incompetent, lying, bungling fools. I can control them, but I’ll be damned if I can understand them.”
“What about the children?” Joenes asked.
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