by Herb Hughes
“Oh, yes, of course,” Avery said. He walked to the serving table and stood there pretending to be interested in the punch. He was not surprised to have been asked out of the conversation, especially since he was sure McGurke had accidentally said more than he meant to. However, the punch bowl was along an outside wall on the other side of the short interior wall where Davis and McGurke stood. The interior wall was only eight feet high and was open above as the ceiling was several feet higher. With most of the attendees and chatter gone, if he stood perfectly still and remained quiet, Avery could make out the two men’s conversation. He knew he should not be eavesdropping. It wasn’t the gentlemanly thing to do and, next to being a scientist, Avery considered himself a polite gentleman. But, somehow, he couldn’t help himself.
“You wanted Wheat up here,” McGurke was saying. “I told you that small town hick couldn’t help in a big city.”
“Me? I only did what the people wanted. You were aware of the mood in the streets. There was a grass roots cry for Jack Wheat. The people were clamoring for him. They believe he will save them.”
“The people are dreamers, which is why you’re in this office instead of me, Davis. And that ‘grass roots’ cry was planted in their minds by you, back during the campaign. The common rabble only cries for what they are told to cry for.”
“That’s absurd. I did not do a thing to get the citizens of this great city to cry out for Wheat. It just happened. You should know. You were there. And, by the way, I thought you had put the election behind you, Jonathan. The people spoke. I won. It’s as simple as that.”
Jonathan McGurke pointed his finger in Davis’ direction at such close range that he brushed against the mayor’s gray suit. “The people, Mr. Mayor, are idiots. But you’re right. I lost the election. You won. You made them believe you could solve the Rhino problem. This is your doing. Totally. I went along with it only out of respect for your position.”
“You fought every step of the way, as I recall,” Davis interrupted, a wry smile on his face.
“Only to you and only in private,” McGurke threw back. There was not even a hint of a smile on the businessman’s face. “Publicly, I supported you one hundred percent. And I supported you privately once the course was set. The Rhino problem must be solved or I and every other businessman in Lisbon will be ruined. So if Andropov and Wheat don’t get the job done, you will have failed. Then I expect you to replace Andropov with my hand-picked selection, or I will crush you in the next election. If the Rhino problem remains unsolved, it will be easy to do. Do we understand each other?”
Mayor Davis hesitated, searching McGurke’s eyes. McGurke stared back hard, determined. “Okay,” the Mayor answered after finally taking a breath. “If this does not solve or substantially reduce the Rhino problem, I’ll fire Alexandre and place your man at the head of the rangers. But we’ll need ample time to determine whether this will work or not.”
“Not too much time, Mr. Mayor, or we’ll all be swimming in our own blood. Good day.”
With that, McGurke turned sharply on his heels and walked away. Avery took this as his cue to return and he held the glass out as McGurke passed him without a glance, ignoring the offered punch. The bodyguards joined the businessman and the three left the room.
Avery stepped over to where Mayor Davis was standing. “I guess he won’t be needing this,” Avery said, holding up a full glass of punch. The Mayor gave Avery a worried glance but did not speak for several moments. Finally he gave Avery an absent-minded farewell then turned and left.
Avery stood there with a glass of punch in each hand and began sipping from both of them. Reluctantly, he had to agree with Jonathan McGurke. Wheat was a great Rhino hunter with a sparkling reputation, but how could one man solve a problem that hundreds of rangers could not? Covering the entire city of Lisbon was asking too much of anyone, famous or otherwise. At the same time, Avery did not relish a Lisbon with Jonathan McGurke as Mayor. That would be unpleasant at best. He wondered if he should tell Jack what he had heard. Probably no need to burden the Rhino hunter with more worries than he already has.
Lowell Johnston, the tall, black bodyguard, was dressed in a well-fitting three-piece suit, gray with thin cream stripes finger width apart. He opened the carriage door for Jonathan McGurke. Once the businessman was in, Lowell climbed in and sat on the elegantly appointed red leather bench across from McGurke. The other bodyguard climbed up top and sat by the driver.
“That went quite well, Lowell. That fool Davis is still talking about how he heard the citizens of our fair city ‘clamoring’ for Wheat. Excellent work on your part, by the way,” McGurke said with a tip of his hat. “You have good connections with the various organizations on the streets. Of course, money and booze always helps with that rabble. I sprung the trap and he stepped right in. All we have to do is wait for Andropov and Wheat to fall flat on their collective faces and you, my friend, will be the next Chief of the Rangers. Colonel Lowell Johnston. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“What if Jack Wheat and Colonel Andropov do not fail?” Lowell’s deep voice came back.
“Andropov is a flamboyant ass. He was never anything that Jack Wheat didn’t make him. And Wheat is only one man, Lowell. He hasn’t a chance. Especially with me pulling strings behind the scenes. You will become the head of the rangers. Then we can introduce our plan for solving the Rhino problem. The design is complete and proven. Mass production has begun. It is only a matter of building quantity. Days instead of months. But we’ll hold back until the time is right. When it is, we will introduce our solution and Rhinos will no longer be a significant danger. I will be a shoe-in at the special election to replace Davis. With the Rhino problem solved, we will go beyond Lisbon. The whole of Agrilot will be our pearl.” Jonathan McGurke smiled and gave a slight nod to his bodyguard. Lowell’s usual stoic countenance did not change.
Chapter 20
“Thank goodness that’s over,” Jack said. The reception had lasted over an hour, and he was glad to have the misery behind him.
Sheffie gave Jack a puzzled look. “Over? You didn’t enjoy being received well by the leaders of Lisbon? I thought it was marvelous.”
Jack glanced at Sheffie then back to the sidewalk in front of them but didn’t say anything. He realized there was no need to go there so he decided to change the subject. “The clouds keep rolling in. Getting darker. It looks like we may be in for some heavy rain.”
“Oh, dear. I hope the library’s close.”
It was. Alexandre’s directions had been simple. They rounded a corner and, as Andropov had promised, there was the library, standing quite apart from the other buildings in more ways than one.
Jack and Sheffie stood in front of the substantial building and stared at the architecture. It was an impressive structure. Tall. Wide. Ornate. Expansive spiral steps rose to massive double front doors that were a full story above the sidewalk. A ranger, regulation laser in hand, looked like a dwarf as he stood guard beside the huge front doors, well above street level. Over every opening, every window and door, concrete arches sported impressions of vines with intricate leaves and plump grapes. The top of the building had a grand molded concrete crown all the way around with a curving arch in the center. At the top of the arch there was a huge sculpted figure of a young lady in a flowing gown holding a flower at her breast with one hand and lifting a book high in the air with her other hand. The statue must have been four or five meters tall. The walls themselves were brick, rare for public buildings in small towns but, it seemed, not so rare in Lisbon.
“Lisbon spends more money on libraries,” Sheffie said dryly.
“They’ve got more money to spend,” Jack responded.
“Yes. Well, shall we go inside?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Jack answered. His face gave away his lack of enthusiasm. “Looks like it’s about to pour out here. We might as well be dry.”
“Oh!” Sheffie responded, a slight scowl on her face. “Humor me.
Please try to act like you’re interested.”
“I am acting interested.”
“Don’t audition at the theater, then. Look, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll do all the talking and reading.”
“I wasn’t brought to Lisbon to read.”
“Yes, of course. Come with me this one time. You won’t have to come back again.”
Sheffie offered her hand. Jack took it and smiled his ‘okay.’ After reaching the top step, they strolled across the landing. The wind had picked up, and dark clouds now covered much of the mid-afternoon sky. Jack nodded to the guard then placed his hand on the knob on one leaf of the huge front door, bracing for the extra effort a door this size would take. It gave so easily he stumbled and almost fell backward. “Well-greased hinges,” he mumbled. The ranger did not smile. He stood there stoically, acting as though he had not noticed.
The inside of the building was lit from a series of skylights high above, as bright as a cloudy sky would allow. Although the building had looked like three stories from the outside, it was only two. The top floor, the one they were currently on, was tall enough for two stories on the inside, with windows over windows in imitation of two.
The flooring at the entrance was a highly polished brown and black stone with skinny white streaks meandering throughout in random directions. It stretched across the foyer to a desk made of rich, dark wood. Behind the desk stood a man with almost equally dark skin, tall with long, straight black hair. He had a friendly smile that seemed wider than it was because of exceptionally white teeth set in a dark face. He also had a slight overbite.
“May I help you?” the man asked in a mild, polite voice, the smile never waning as he spoke. He nodded his head slightly several times.
“Yes,” Sheffie responded. “We’re looking for Vishay Kulkarni.”
“I am he,” the man answered, bowing slightly. “At your service.”
“I’m Sheffie Jarrett, and this is Jack Wheat.”
“Ah, yes. I have been so looking forward to your arrival. Welcome! We are pleased to have the librarian from Borderton and the world’s premiere Rhino hunter with us. Thank you so much for visiting.” He continued to nod his head slightly up and down as he talked.
“Oh, it’s our pleasure to be able to visit your beautiful library,” Sheffie said, surprised at the man’s gracious reception. After all, she was only the librarian in Borderton, and Borderton was just, well, Borderton.
“Please,” Vishay offered, still smiling and nodding, “Allow me to give you a tour of our facility. I hope it proves satisfactory to you. But first, we must have a cup of tea. Or coffee, if you prefer.”
Jack and Sheffie were led into Vishay’s office, directly off the foyer. It was not as expansive or as expensively finished as the lobby, but it had a warm, cordial feel. The man had no secretary, so he served the tea himself. They talked briefly about both the Lisbon and Borderton libraries while they sipped. Jack said little. Vishay proved to be quite even-tempered, exceptionally polite, and eager to please his guests. Once finished with their tea, they returned to the foyer. A young man had taken Vishay’s place at the front desk and was smiling at them almost as eagerly as Vishay had done.
“This way,” Vishay said, nodding his head again. He led the couple down the main hall. Once off the foyer, all the floors were made of wood, with light and dark boards arranged in a large diamond pattern that repeated throughout. There was a border of dark, almost black wood along the walls.
As they walked down the hall, Jack could hear the murmur of voices coming from behind a closed door to the right.
“This is our science room,” Vishay said as he nodded his head and opened the door.
What Jack and Sheffie saw did not fit their image of a library. The room was crowded and noisy. To be sure, a few people were sitting and reading, though Jack wondered how they could with all the chatter. But most of the people were in one of several groups around the room with active conversations ongoing. They were standing and sitting and leaning against the wall. One man was lying on the floor. A woman stood over him with an open book, reading to him. Books lay scattered about the room on tables and chairs and the floor. They were haphazardly stacked several high in many places, and most were open. In a couple of groups, more than one person was talking or reading at the same time.
Sheffie looked puzzled. “What is this? I mean... I was always taught to maintain quiet...”
“Science,” Vishay began, “Is quite popular in Lisbon these days.”
“Yes,” Jack said, suddenly interested. “We saw the telegraph lines being installed as we were riding into Lisbon. The workers said they were connecting the neighboring towns.”
“And eventually all towns,” Vishay said. “One of many projects currently underway. Everyone wants modern conveniences, and they are willing to pay for them. Scientists are eager to oblige. They are in a hurry to invent what we know can be done, but do not know how.”
“We have lots of books from the original ships that show us what is possible,” Sheffie added, “But virtually none that show us how to do things.”
“Exactly,” Vishay agreed. “Our planet, of course, was to be an agricultural Camelot, thus the name, ‘Agrilot.’ We would have served an overpopulated Earth, with a return to the individual farmer and farming family, instead of huge farming conglomerates. The colonists, all prisoners, were getting a second chance at freedom, at establishing another life.
“There were a few thousand books with them. Most were old Earth novels, purely for entertainment, but a few were not. These showed cars and trains and airplanes and household appliances and radios and all sorts of technological things, but not one single volume gave information on how these devices worked or instructions on how to make them. There were no technical volumes other than a few basic agricultural books.
“There was no equipment on the ships that landed: no electronics, no communications devices, and no vehicles; nothing except for the colonists, the books, and a few herds of farm animals. Originally there were three freighters. According to legend, as written records don’t exist, the freighter with all the equipment was lost in transit, hit by a small asteroid traveling at high speed. A freak accident but, nonetheless, one that is always possible in space travel.
“When the two remaining freighters landed, the crew tried to make up for the loss by giving the colonist the few laser rifles they had. It has been assumed that the rifles were needed to protect the farm animals from being slaughtered for meat as they were intended as breed animals to help build future herds. They also promised the resupply ships would start arriving soon. Of course, as you already know, those ships never came. We do not know why because the communications equipment was on the lost ship. All we have ever had from Earth is silence. We have no idea what happened.”
“Yes,” Sheffie said. “Such a curiosity. And so devastating for us.”
“True. We were forced to start over from the beginning. Because there were no scientists or technical personnel, we were thrown back into a pre-industrial society for most of our history. But, thanks to these scientists,” Vishay nodded toward the occupants in the room, “And others around the planet, things are finally changing. The change was slow for many years, but it is now accelerating.”
“There’s an old guy who lives at an oasis in the desert,” Jack said. “He claims we were never intended to be anything more than another prison. He says that Earth wanted to be rid of us. He also said the equipment ship was not lost at all, that it was a lie, a fabrication. He said it was never sent to start with. And he says the routine supply ships were all a lie, too. We were never intended to have them. That’s what he says most of the time. Sometimes he says other things.”
“Lives in the desert?”
“Uh, yes. He’s a little on the, ah, unique side.”
“Perhaps your friend is saying that because of his, well, ‘uniqueness.’ But he could be correct. We have no way of knowing. According to historical hearsay,
the colonists knew about computers and other electronic devices, but all the equipment was on the lost freighter. Essentially, all the settlers had, as they went straight from prison to the freighters, were their meager personal belongings; a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. We literally had to start over and did so without expertise in most fields.
“A few of the colonists kept diaries on notebooks they brought with them, but the few volumes that survived were more or less personal information, of little value. For the most part, all we have from the original settlers is the word of mouth tales that were passed down time and again until we reinvented paper and pencils and started recording history once more, not that many decades ago.”
“Why did it take so long?” Sheffie asked.
“Survival,” Vishay answered. “The first few decades were spent trying to survive. No one had time to try to carve on stones or invent paper or much of anything else. We had to establish a workable civilization, to feed ourselves and protect ourselves in a completely uncultivated, wild land. And we had to find ways to protect ourselves from Rhinos. We were, almost literally, starting from scratch.”
“There were several thousand original colonists,” Jack said. “You would think that some of them would have had enough knowledge to recreate things.”
“About twenty thousand colonists,” Vishay answered. “That is the number that most often shows up in the records that came afterward. They were people from all over Earth, all types of people. Common sense says that many of them had some technological knowledge, but still no advancements were made. Historians speculate that the reason for this was simple: the knowledge they held was on a level too high above what they had to work with. They were, after all, on a raw planet. You could not get parts for anything.
“For instance, there may have been colonists who understood how a radio worked and how to build one, but they had no idea how to extract the raw materials from the planet so that they could manufacture the components needed to build a radio. Even when they could get the raw materials, they had no concept of how to manufacture the components.” Vishay shrugged then added, “Knowing how to build a radio is useless if there is no one who knows how to extract metals and plastics from the ground, or how to process these materials into the components that are needed. Or how to create the energy to power it. As a result, when the original colonists died, their technical knowledge died with them. Their children and children’s children eventually discovered how to extract raw materials, but by then there was no one left who knew how to build a radio. That’s the general theory.”