Courane felt a little sting on the back of his neck and at that moment he remembered how it had been.
TECT informed him that he had failed for the third time, had used up his last chance and had wasted it like a kid with an extra dollar. He went home to his small apartment in Tokyo and waited for the verdict and the sentence. There was no doubt that he was going to be found guilty. TECT had no margin of compassion. In all his years, Courane had never heard of anyone else who had failed as he had, and so he had no idea what TECT would decide to do with him. His imagination ran wild, picturing everything from death by etiolation to being condemned to life as one of TECT's hired social deviates, an addict perhaps, or a member of some squalid ethnic group.
There was a tect unit in the foyer of the apartment building. When the verdict and sentence were decided, they would be transferred there. No doubt the building's superintendent would run up the stairs with his usual mad energy to give Courane the news. Courane could wait. He put on a tape of Copland's Appalachian Spring and laid down on the couch. He ought to call his parents, he knew, but he wanted to put that off as long as possible. It would be humiliating, and his parents would be crushed by the news. While he waited, Courane read over the notice he had received at work.
**COURANE, Sandor - RepE Dis4 Sec27
Loc39-Gre-834
M232-86-059-41Maj
11:07:47 10 January 7 YT - DatAdvis**
**COURANE, Sandor:
Notification of failure to fulfill TaskFunc (Charges and Specifications follow).
**COURANE, Sandor:
When an individual fails at his first appointment, the supervisors and TECT in the name of the Representative look on the failure tolerantly and with good grace. After all, there is a strong possibility that test scores may have given an incorrect picture of an individual's aptitudes. After the second failure, TECT in the name of the Representative is still anxious to help the individual; perhaps a clearer profile is beginning to emerge.
**COURANE, Sandor:
BUT AFTER THE THIRD FAILURE, TECT IN THE NAME OF THE REPRESENTATIVE MUST VIEW THIS RECORD AS A TREND THAT MUST BE HALTED. IT SEEMS PROBABLE THAT THE INDIVIDUAL IS BEHAVING IN A MANNER DETRIMENTAL TO SOCIETY AS A WHOLE.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Consequently, TECT in the name of the Representative regretfully informs you that you are on trial for Willful Contempt of TECTWish.The verdict will be ready for you in one hour. You must comply with the verdict and the sentence. Failure to do so will be considered an act of revolutionary aggression, and you and your loved ones will be used as tragic examples.
**COURANE, Sandor:
No indication that the addressee understands the above is necessary.
Please stand by for further directives**
It was easy enough to understand. Courane's foreman, Sokol, had had a ghoulish pleasure in giving him the report. Courane could hardly blame the man. It was a marvelous novelty. In the small room, the Copland forged ahead without regard for Courane's feelings. The verdict should be coming through very soon. In a minute or two, old Mr. Masutani would be knocking on the door, bringing the news. Courane was in no hurry. He could wait.
Then, as the music paused between sections, Courane heard Mr. Masutani call his name. "Courane, come downstairs. There's an important message for you on the tect."
"I know, I know. I'll be right down." Courane sighed. There was nothing to do but get it over with. He went to the door.
Masutani looked at him and smiled. "Does it have to do with why you came home from work so early?"
"I guess so." He led the way downstairs to the foyer.
"Did you lose your job?"
"Would you mind giving me a little privacy, Mr. Masutani?" The red ADVISE light was blinking, but Courane ignored it for a moment.
Masutani raised an eyebrow. Privacy! He snorted at the European boy's bad manners, but he turned and went back into his own little den.
Courane went to the tect terminal. "This is Sandor Courane," he said.
The tect hurried through the preliminary data symbols, then presented Courane with his destiny.
**COURANE, Sandor:
TECT in the name of the Representative has studied the records of your first labor assignment in Pilessio, Europe. As you will recall, your performance there did not meet the minimum standards of the community. Therefore, you were given a second assignment in New York, North America. TECT in the name of the Representative has analyzed your second attempt at finding a profitable career, and arrived at the same conclusion. You were graciously offered a third opportunity in Tokyo, Asia, and TECT in the name of the Representative has been informed that you have followed the pattern of your earlier failures.
**COURANE, Sandor:
It is not the purpose of TECT in the name of the Representative to search out criminals merely to punish them. It is TECT's essential duty to find a place for each individual, a role that will utilize the individual's talents to the utmost, provide the individual with an opportunity to grow and express himself, and benefit the community at large with the fruits of the individual's labor.
**COURANE, Sandor:
When an individual seems to be working to deny these benefits to the community, it is the responsibility of TECT in the name of the Representative to persuade the individual to change his behavior or, failing that, to remove the individual from the life of the community at large.
**COURANE, Sandor:
That this is true in the case of COURANE, Sandor, M232-86-059-41Maj, is the final decision of TECT in the name of the Representative. It is not necessary to protest innocence. TECT in the name of the Representative is aware that COURANE, Sandor, has committed no crimes of violence, passion, or fraud. COURANE, Sandor, has broken no laws, transgressed no moral imperatives, flouted no statutes, nor contravened sacred traditions, codes of conduct, established precedents, or principles of civilized behavior. In short, he has done nothing in an overt manner, premeditated or otherwise, for which to be punished.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Yet the community at large demands that COURANE, Sandor, be dealt with by removing him from the fellowship of the people and their Representative, and of TECT in the name of the Representative. In response to this compulsory obligation, TECT in the name of the Representative has selected for COURANE, Sandor, a plan that will enable the community at large to enjoy his absence without causing the individual himself the inconvenience of such solutions as summary execution.
**COURANE, Sandor:
You are ordered by TECT in the name of the Representative to report to TECT TELETRANS Main Substation in New York, North America, at 12:00:00, 11 January, 7 YT. Failure to do so will be considered Contempt of TECTWish and you will be hunted down like a dog and slain in your tracks.
**COURANE, Sandor:
No appeal is permitted. You are advised to make whatever final arrangements you feel are necessary. You will be allowed to take with you no more than five pounds of clothing, essential medications as described in your permanent personal file, a photograph of your parents and one of your spouse if you are married, but nothing else of a personal nature or otherwise.
**COURANE, Sandor:
No indication that the addressee understands the above is necessary. There will be no further directives unless COURANE, Sandor, does something foolish**
"They really hit you over the head with it, didn't they?" said Mr. Masutani.
Courane turned around quickly, startled. He was bitter and upset, and he didn't like having the superintendent sharing his moment of defeat. "Leave me alone," he said.
"Will you be staying here tonight? They want you in New York by noon tomorrow."
"I don't know. Maybe I'll see my parents tonight."
Masutani coughed. "If you won't be here, let me know. I want to move your mattresses down here." Courane said nothing. He went back to his apartment, his thoughts jumbled and bleak.
How easy it would be to prepare for his new life, he thought. He went t
o his closet and brought out a small canvas zipper bag. His whole future would be packed in that one bag. Five pounds of socks and shirts and, if he went home to get one, a photograph of his folks. He almost wished that he was married, just to be able to take another thing with him. It occurred to him that TECT might merely have been trying to calm his fears or delude him, that he wasn't going on to a new life somewhere. When he stepped across the teletrans threshold, he might easily step out on the bottom of the ocean or on the top of some nameless mountain in Antarctica. TECT had no discernible strain of mercy programmed into it, but there was a kind of savage irony.
Courane put the zipper bag on the bed—he felt a twinge of perversity, wishing that he could dispose of that bed so that Masutani couldn't profit from the situation—and began to stuff it full of clothing. He was glad, in a way, that there was a short limit to the amount of belongings he could take with him. His poverty wouldn't be so apparent wherever he was going. He finished packing, zipped the bag closed, and dropped it to the floor. That chore was done. He looked around him, around the apartment, wondering what else he could do to occupy his mind. There didn't seem to be anything urgent. He was dismayed that he could wrap up his affairs, his life, so quickly and effortlessly. Wouldn't there be some loose ends? Weren't there some people who would miss him terribly? Wasn't there anything in the world that would suffer without his attention?
No, there wasn't. That was what TECT had tried to tell him. That was why it had decided to excise him from the community at large. TECT had said that Courane was a weed in the garden. TECT admitted that Courane wasn't a threat or a danger, but weeds had to be removed nevertheless. They used up resources and contributed nothing. They disturbed the garden's integrity. They offended the sense of proportion of the gardener—and that was what TECT was these days, even though it always added that it operated "in the name of the Representative."
One telephone call would be enough. "Hello, Dad?"
"Sandy?"
Courane coughed nervously but said nothing. He was already sorry he had called.
"Sandy?"
"Dad? Hey, just calling to see how you and Mom are."
"We're fine, Sandy, we're both fine. How are you?"
"Fine, Dad. It's awful cold here."
"Cold here, too. The landlord has the thermostat set at some goddamn freezing temperature. Your mother has to wear her big blue sweater to bed. I was going to go buy one of those little heaters, but your mother's afraid of being gassed to death in the middle of the night."
"Uh huh."
"So, what's up with you? We went to Vienna weekend before last to visit your mother's brother. They bought a little farm. Filthy place. I didn't like it, but you know your mother. How's your new job?"
Courane felt his eyes fill with tears. His mouth was dry. He wished that it were tomorrow, next month, five or ten years in the future and whatever was going to happen would be done and finished. No, instead he had to go through it all, step by step, and he couldn't just close his eyes and wait for it all to go away. It would go away eventually, but it would disappear the hard way. "That's one of the reasons I called, Dad. I got laid off."
"Laid off? You mean fired?"
"Yeah."
"Goddamn it, Sandy. That's the third time. They're liable to—"
"They already have." Courane closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He had a headache. He spoke in a low, weary voice. "I got a message on the tect here at home that TECT has ordered something special for me."
"What?" His father sounded almost frantic, much more concerned than Courane was himself.
"I don't know, Dad. I'm not sure."
Courane's father was astonished. "You mean to tell me that you don't know what they're going to do to you? You didn't ask?"
"I was a little afraid."
"Sandy, you put the phone down and you go to your tect and you find out. I'll wait."
"It'll cost a fortune."
"The hell with that," said Courane's father. "I'd think that would be the least of our worries. I don't believe you sometimes, son."
"I'll be right back." Courane was feeling more anguish than he showed to his father. He wanted more than anything not to distress his parents, but that would be almost impossible. Knowing that, Courane wished to keep the hurt and grief at the lowest possible level. This wasn't the first time in his life that in seeking to protect his mother and father, he had succeeded only in wounding them more deeply. This knowledge burned him as he hurried downstairs.
He confronted the tect. "Regarding the last message to Courane, Sandor, what precisely are the details of my sentence?"
**COURANE, Sandor:
You are to be sent as a colonist to the agricultural world of Epsilon Eridani, Planet D. You will become part of an integrated farming community. Your future of successes or failures will thus be of no consequence to the community at large here on Earth, yet you will be placed in an environment which will demand much of you and reward you with peace and satisfaction**
"That's not so bad," said Courane.
**COURANE, Sandor:
No, it's not. Many successful but harried citizens would be willing to trade their situations with you. You will lack for little on this distant world, except of course for personal contact with old friends and family, and certain material possessions. But in the balance you must weigh your new self-esteem, gained through hard work and the knowledge that you are free and owe your liberty and good life to no one, that your happiness is of your own making**
"Well, then, I'm very grateful."
**COURANE, Sandor:
And well you should be. You would do well to recall that TECT in the name of the Representative had no part in selecting you for this treatment, or in prejudging your lapses, or in deciding your fate. These things were made necessary by the current standards of the community, and TECT in the name of the Representative must be absolved of all direct responsibility.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Compliance with the above is to be indicated.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Affirm?**
"Yes," said Courane, permitting the immense machine to wash its electronic hands of the affair, to salve its magnetic conscience. Courane remembered his father, still on the phone upstairs, waiting in Europe for the news. Courane hurried back to his apartment. "Hello, Dad?"
"I haven't gone anywhere."
"Well, I will be. They're sending me to another planet. Epsilon something. A farming world. I'm going to work on a commune or something."
"Oh."
"That doesn't sound bad."
"Except that your mother and I will probably never see you again."
Courane hesitated. He hadn't even considered that. He felt a stab of guilt. "I'll be home in a couple of hours. Is my room still empty?"
"Who do you think is staying there? Your mother will put on clean sheets. You can pick up the rest of your books and clothes."
"They won't let me take but five pounds, Dad. I have everything I need except a good picture of you and Mom. Do me a favor, though. Get Mom ready. Break the news to her so that she won't be hysterical when I get home."
Courane heard his father sigh. "Sandy, no matter what I do, she'll be hysterical when you get here. For that matter, maybe I will be, too."
Courane felt a hot tear slip down his cheek. "Dad," he said in a hoarse voice, "it's hard enough to keep myself under control. Please, I need you to be strong. You were always strong when I was little. You've always been strong for me."
"Sandy, it was never easy, and I am getting old and tired. But I will do it one more time."
"Thanks, Dad. I love you."
"I love you too, Sandy. Be careful coming home. I'll see you soon."
Courane hung up the phone. He sat on his bed and stared at the wall, where there was a framed print of Tiepolo's Madonna of the Goldfinch, which Courane felt was the most beautiful woman ever painted. He stared at the print, and every thought he entertained made him a little sadder. H
e wouldn't be allowed to take the picture with him. He would be cut off forever from both it and the world that had created it. His idle dreams of performing a startling act of genius, a work of art or a scientific breakthrough or a marvelous athletic achievement, were dead now and he had no other course but to acknowledge that dismal fact. There were so many things that Courane had wanted with the vague grasping desire of youth, and he had denied them all to himself by his failure. He had achieved something closely related to death, despite TECT's curious reluctance to be held accountable for it. Certainly Courane's failures to come would be far from the affairs of the community at large, but then so would be his triumphs, and Earth would be cheated of these. And Courane would be cheated of the acceptance that he needed so desperately. That was the true punishment.
It was just past sunset. The first brush of stars glinted in the sky like the dust of broken jewels on sable. The air was already cooling, and it was the rising wind that had roused Courane. Where am I? he thought. I'm on my way home, he told himself. I'm on my way to my parents' home in Greusching.
Then why was he sitting alone in the middle of some voiceless desert? Where was he? He stared into the sky and watched the deep blue lose the last faint measure of light. He watched the stars increase and he watched them form patterns and shapes in the heavens. He felt fear grow in him as he searched in vain for familiar constellations. There was no Dipper, no Orion, no Cassiopeia, no Draco. The moon, low on the horizon, was half the size it ought to be and was an untrustworthy purplish color.
Courane had the same feeling one has on waking from a particularly vivid dream, when the waking world and the dream are superimposed for a moment, when aspects of one distort images of the other, and one must make an effort to sort them and decide which shall have precedence for the remainder of the day.
A Thousand Deaths Page 2