Joy Ride
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were marshaled and on theirmarks at the city line. The Mayor fired a disarmed war rocket as thesignal to start.
And then the shovels, instead of biting into the dirt, turned at rightangles and began to chew a path through the paid audience.
This was not called for in the contract and many hired spectators ranaway in fright, but a few of us had enough professional pride to standby. We watched as the shovels cut an irregular path through streets,parks and open lots in the city snapping at everything in their wayuntil they reached the water-front.
I thought they would stop at the docks. The leaders _did_ pause, untilall the shovels had come abreast. Then, as if they had a commonimpulse, they rolled into the harbor and sank in unison.
As I later said to my wife, it was quite extraordinary.
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My name is Danville. I was watching a colorvision program on the firstday of the Calamity.
The program was a wrestling match between a woman and a bear. The bearwas winning when the screen went dark. The announcer's voice faded andI heard what sounded like the chatter of my neighbors. When the screenlit up again, it showed my own home. The door opened to reveal thehallway to the dining room, where I could see my wife sewing a patchon my son's pants. Then I saw my daughter experimenting on fudge inthe food laboratory and my boy working on a bomb model. What surprisedme most was a picture of myself staring at myself on the screen.
This wasn't very interesting to me, so I tried some of the otherstations. No matter where I tuned in, though, I found myself lookingat a part of my own home. I wrote a letter of complaint to theUniversal Program Commission, but never even got an answer.
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I am sorry that I do not remember my name. I have been employed a longtime in the Classified Laboratory of Theoretical Physics and have beenunder security orders to speak to no one except in answer to officialqueries. As I am the only scholar in my field--the polarity of thepositron--I have never been asked for information. If I had been,perhaps I would not have forgotten my name, but I cannot be sure. Idon't know whether the replies are signed.
I could have prevented the Calamity. I tried. I risked my life in theattempt. But at the moment when it seemed I might succeed, somethinghappened which I must try to explain.
First let me tell you why I knew what would happen.
My studies of minute particles led me to believe that machines mightexert some form of choice. Simply because aggregates have alwaysbehaved predictably, I could not assume they always would. Even thoughthe masses of men behaved as expected, I remember that, in mygrandfather's time, individual persons frequently departed fromestablished courses. What the individual could do, I felt the mass orthe machine might do.
As you know, these were subversive views, running directly counter tothe cult of the Statisticians, which was based entirely on thepredictability of mass behavior.
The cult of the Statisticians was strong because it produced results.By employing Statisticians, the contending armies in the PeripheralWars predicted each other's movements so accurately that theyeliminated the possibility of surprise. Thus the Statisticiansproduced the military impasse which destroyed the prestige ofpolitical leadership. From that time on, Statisticians filled theposts of government.
The success of the Statisticians proved their undoing. They claimedthat they could create a perfect system without conflict or accident.They fondly believed that with the feedback in the electron brain,they could anticipate and correct all deviations in behavior, human ormechanical.
They might have succeeded, if not for a fundamental error.
I discovered this error as soon as the plans for the fiscal centurywere published. The design of the electron brain had completelyignored the polarity of the positron. In the total fiscal complex,this factor permits any aggregate to choose its own course. But theerror was not immediately obvious to the Statisticians. It remainedsubtle and concealed until multiplied beyond control.
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Naturally, I prepared a report to predict to my chiefs the dangersembedded in this plan for a perfect world. I predicted that themachines would make their own decisions, even though most men long agohad lost that power. I even warned them that the ancient concept of"free will," now forbidden, would return to destroy them. These werethe facts I offered.
The report was never delivered.
I'd hardly put my seal on the document when the automatic securityguard closed in. The document was seized and I was bound gagged andthrown onto a conveyor belt. I saw myself on the way to the eraser.Only the polarity of the positron saved me. Desperately, on my way outof the laboratory, I kicked a single switch.
Instead of taking me to my punishment, the conveyor belt converteditself into a joy ride. The gag fell out. My bonds dissolved. TheCalamity had begun.
The joy ride carried me to witness many of the events reported to thisCommission. And then it tossed me directly into the center of theoffice of the Chiefs. I had one more opportunity to tell my story, tosave the system.
Given a second choice, I reconsidered.
Had a perfect system been to my taste, I'd have died cheerfully tosave it. But the Calamity excited me. I relished its surprises andadventures, even its hazards. I remember the old peasant proverb,"When life is perfect, it is time to die." And I decided I'd ratherlive.
HISTORIAN'S NOTE:_ At this point, the Commission abruptly closed itshearings. The unnamed physicist was charged with treason and orderedexecuted on the spot. His life was saved, however, by Riotersrepresenting the New Disorder, which, upon seizing power, decreed thatthe Calamity should henceforth be called the Blessing._
_The physicist was rewarded by being made head of the government. Heserved two distinguished terms as President Nameless, which was theorigin of the Presidential title of address, "Your Namelessness._"
_The Commission, of course, was sent to Erasure._
--MARK MEADOWS
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