"Well,"he said quietly, "it's not _my_ money." He tossed the two thousand outto Doak and yawned. "Remind me about it Monday if I forget, will you?I'm not much good the end of the week."
_Or any other part of the week_, Doak thought. He said, "If I'm back,Monday. If I'm not I'll scream for more."
"You do that well," the cashier said and reached up to turn off thelight overhead.
It was hot outside. The sun seemed to be imprisoned in the whitecorridor that stretched for miles between the government buildings andthe ashment of the parking lot glittered like broken glass.
* * * * *
From the mines of Mars the ashment came, the best paving surface knownto man. And what was Mars but mines? With all their grand talk, whowanted to leave Mother Earth? What was Venus but a sanctuary, avacation spot, and what was Mars but mines? When a big cog like theChief could send a lonely man all the way to Dubbinville because of aneighbor's summons, how could they expect little cogs to grow up togalactic thinking?
Dubbinville and the heat of a Wisconsin summer--and June waiting inthe apartment on Connecticut (S.E.). Doak swore quietly andthoroughly and stepped into the oven that was his Chev.
The cooling system started with the motor and the interior wascomfortable by the time he pulled into the stream of home-boundtraffic. It was a fourteen-lane highway and jammed to the curbs.
* * * * *
There were only two signals in eight miles but traffic moved in fitsand starts at this time of day. He could see the first light when hewas a hundred yards from it and was sure he could make it.
But it turned amber when he was still fifteen yards from the cornerand the force-field actuated his traffic-servant and he heard thebrake control click. Well, it avoided accidents but it sure as hellwas rough on brake linings. He skidded to a stop.
Cars, cars, cars for miles. And the glittering ashment and all theboys and gals going home to plot the week-end. No magazines, no books,no papers with their social columns, so the girls would be out andlooking around.
And the men would be out and looking around and what more did youneed?
The light changed and his brake was released and he moved out at thehead of his line, thinking about Dubbinville, trying to imagine it,some hamlet tucked away in a Wisconsin hill, dreaming of yesterday.Great, fine, dandy!
In his apartment all his video sets yammered at him and he stopped inthe doorway, staring. They should have turned off when he'd thrown themaster switch this morning.
In the hallway, he checked the switch, and it read _off_. Must beshorted....
He went from dinette to kitchen to bedroom to living room, turning offeach set individually. All of them had the same program, Milton BerleIV. He liked that better than wrestling though not much.
In his chrome and plastic kitchen he dialed June's number.
Her hair wasn't in the curlers. It was golden and braided and high onher classic head. She said, "Your picture isn't coming through. Who isthis, please?"
Doak said in a falsetto, "Guess."
The screen went blank.
Doak snapped the video switch to _on_ and dialed Lateral-American. Abrunette with vivid blue eyes came into view.
"A priority to Dubbinville, Wisconsin, first trip possible," Doak saidand gave her Security's code number.
"Dubbinville?" she said and frowned. She consulted a station box outof his view and looked up again. "You'll have to take surfacetransportation from Milwaukee. It's only about twenty miles from therein Waukesha County."
"Good enough. And when's the first to Milwaukee?"
"At nineteen hundred, ramp eighty-seven. Kindly pick up your ticket atBooth sixty-two." The screen went blank.
The ticket wasn't really though the name had persisted. The 'ticket'was a coin. Doak looked in his refrigerator and there was nothingworthwhile in there. He'd eat at the airport.
He looked at the phone and decided against it. He went into thebedroom and threw some shirts and socks and a pair of clean pajamasinto his durapelt bag.
Dubbinville--and June out looking around. What a lousy deal!
II
The great ship lay sleekly quiet under the slanting sun, thepassengers like ants measured against its giant hull. Clink, clink,clink went the coins into the counting box, the light over each seatgoing on with the clink of the coin.
Then they were seated, the lights all on, and the tractor was pullingthe giant to the channelled runway, guarded by the blast walls.
_Milwaukee, here I come._
The whirr of the rolling wheels, the reverberations from the blastwalls, a crescendo of sound, and they were free of earth. Anaccelerating, effortless flight, a faint tremor as they passed thesonic barrier, then no sensory impressions at all.
Flight as free as the wind's passage but more silent. Through thevisacrys windows a blur of blue-green. Speed without strain, powerwithout tumult.
Doak relaxed and for the first time since the Chief's summons hewasn't thinking of June. He was thinking of Man, from the cave toVenus, from the wheel to free flight. And something out of hischildhood memory came to mind.
_Studious let me sit_ _And hold high converse with the mighty dead_
Where had he heard that? Some Scotch poet, it must have been, for hismother recited only the Scotch poets. _Studious let me sit_--in frontof a video set, to watch the wrestling?
_And hold high converse with the mighty dead_--not in this world wherethere was only tomorrow, not in this world of no books. There were nowriters on television--they had no need to attract an audience. They_had_ an audience. An audience that would watch wrestling would watchanything.
So the ad men took over the duties of the semi-writers who hadprepared the radio programs. Ad men offended nobody, even those withdenture breath. That could be cured and so could acne, B.O., straighthair and seam squirrels.
_Hey!_ he though suddenly. _Watch where you're thinking, Doak Parker._
A government man, a Security Officer, he straightened in his seat asthe stewardess came along the aisle.
She smiled at him, "Everything all right, Mr. Parker?"
"Dandy," Doak said. "Great, fine! Why?"
She paused, disconcerted "I beg your pardon?"
"Why shouldn't everything be all right? Lateral-American, the skywayto the stars, right?"
She smiled "Absolutely correct."
"_And_ Milwaukee," Doak added. "Do you only handle the earth runs?"
"Until next year," she said. "I'm new."
"I'm old," Doak said. "Is there anything to drink on board?"
"Water, Mr. Parker."
"I'm not _that_ old," he said.
She glanced at her watch. "We'll be in Milwaukee in six minutes. Andthat's the beer town."
But he had no time for a glass of beer. The limousine took him to theelevated station and the last car for Dubbinville was leaving in threeminutes.
It was a nine-minute trip. He'd picked up an hour, coming west, andused but thirty-three minutes. It was still only seven o'clock whenthe huge elevated car hissed to a stop in front of the Dubbinvillestation.
There was a smell to the place, a smell of sun-warmed grass and fruitblossoms, of lilacs and quiet rains. Doak stood on the platform,surveying the winding main street leading up into the gentle hills.People on porches and teenagers in front of the drugstore. Areddish-brown setter padded past on some secret business of his own.
There was no whiz, no whir, no clank, no squeal, no grind. This wasDubbinville, U.S.A.
The station agent was picking up a pair of film boxes, as Doak walkedover. He smiled at Doak. "Beautiful evening, isn't it?"
"It certainly is. Is there--a place to stay in town, a hotel?"
The station agent shook his head. "No hotel. But you could stay atMrs. Klein's. She takes in boarders." He pointed with a bonyforefinger. "That grey house with the blue shutters, right on thecurve there."
"Thank you," Doak said. "What's the population here?"
/> "Around eight hundred, last census, though we had a couple familiesmove in since then. Hasn't changed much the last hundred years."
"Retired farmers, mostly?" Doak asked.
"Mmmm, I guess. Just--people."
People.... Which meant nothing and everything. Doak had turned awaybefore he remembered. Then he turned back. "Oh, yes, and SenatorArnold? Where does he live?"
"Big house, over the hill," the agent said. "Only big house aroundhere--you can't miss it. Got a high stone fence all around it and twovicious dogs. God knows what he's scared of." This was a different manfrom the one who had remarked on the beauty of the evening.
"Thanks," Doak said. "Thanks again."
Political resentment--or
The Mighty Dead Page 2