A Matter for Men watc-1

by David Gerrold

  "What's he trying to prove?" complained Janice.

  "Tyranny, I guess. That's what started this, remember?"

  "Well, what are we supposed to do about it?"

  "Isn't it obvious? We're supposed to rebel!"

  "Oh, sure! We can't even open our mouths to complain! How are we going to organize?"

  "We can organize," I said. "In here. We'll form an army of liberation. The other class members will support us."

  "You sure of that? He's got them so terrified they're pissing in their pants."

  "Well, we've got to try," said Hank Chelsea, standing up. "I'm for it."

  "Count me out," said Jastrow.

  I stood up. "I think it's the only way."

  Janice stood up. "I-I don't like this, but I'll go along with it because we've got to show him he can't do this to us."

  Two of the other boys stood up, and one of the girls. "Come on, John. Joey?"

  "Uh uh. I don't want to get yelled at anymore."

  "Aren't you angry?"

  "I just want my money back."

  "Paul?"

  "He'll just throw us out again."

  "Wait a minute, Jim." That was Mariette. "Just what is it you want us to do anyway? What's your plan?"

  "We go in there and declare the dictatorship over."

  "Oh, sure, and then he yells at us some more and his army throws us out again. He's hired two more thugs."

  "They're not thugs, they just look like it."

  "All football players are thugs to me. Anyway, there's six of 'em now. So what are you gonna do about that?"

  Six people started to answer her at once, but Hank Chelsea held up his hand and said, "No, wait-she's right! We need a plan! Look, try this. We open all three doors of the room at once-that startles everybody. Then, before he can say anything, the girls have got to go for the army-no, listen to me. I'm betting that they won't hit the girls. What you do is put one girl on each soldier. She gives him a big hug and a kiss and tells him to join us-"

  "Yeah, and then what?"

  "-and that we'll pay them double what he's paying them!"

  "He's paying them three caseys each now."

  "No, they'll join us. But only if each girl takes one boy. Grab his arm and start talking to him. Say whatever you have to, and don't let go until he agrees to join us."

  "Yeah, right, Mr. Big Shot. So you get the women to do the dirty work. What are the men going to do?"

  "We're going after the honcho and reclaiming the national treasury."

  We debated the plan for a few more minutes, during which time two more exiles joined us. They agreed to join the revolution almost immediately and suggested some refinements to the attack. We were almost ready when Joey Hubre sniffled and said, "What if someone gets hurt? What about that?"

  That stopped us for a moment, and we had to rethink our plan again. But Paul Jastrow said, "Well, what of it? This is war, isn't it?"

  "No, he's right," said Hank. "Maybe Whitlaw wouldn't care if he hurt anyone, but we're supposed to be an army of liberation. We're not going to hurt anyone."

  "Unless they ask for it," muttered Jastrow.

  "No, not even then," snapped Hank.

  "Who appointed you general? I didn't!"

  "All right-" Hank put up his hands. "We'll take a vote-"

  "No!" I said. "We have a plan. We're ready to go! Armies don't vote!"

  "They do now!" said Jastrow.

  "But not in times of war! Is there anyone who needs to vote?"

  "Yeah, I want to go over this war plan again-"

  "Oh, terrific! There goes the revolution! Let's have a parliamentary battle instead. Wait a minute, I've got a copy of Robert's Rules of Order here-"

  "McCarthy, shut up! You're an asshole!"

  "Yeah? Then why are you the one who's giving us shit?"

  "Hey, wait a minute-we're being distracted from our goal by this! We're forgetting who the real enemy is." Hank Chelsea stepped between us. "Now, look, we've got a plan. Let's do it! All right?"

  Jastrow looked at Chelsea's proffered hand skeptically. "I don't like this-"

  "Aw, come on, Paul," said Mariette and Janice, and then everybody else said it too, and Paul looked embarrassed and shrugged and said, "All right," and we went and invaded Mr. Whitlaw's Global Ethics course.

  He was ready for us.

  All the desks had been piled up to form a barricade across half the room. The kingdom of Myopia had built a Maginot Line. We stopped and looked at each other.

  "I've heard of paranoia, but this is crazy!" said Janice. "Yeah. Well, I told you it wouldn't work," growled Paul. "Now what do we do?" said Mariette.

  We stood there exchanging glances. "Can we pull it down?"

  "We could try," I said. "But I don't think that's the way we're supposed to solve this problem."

  "Okay, Mr. Megabyte," said Paul Jastrow. "What's your solution?"

  "I don't have one. I just said, I didn't think the physical way is the answer. I think we're supposed to use our brains here." I shut up then. I realized I was looking straight through the barrier at Whitlaw. He was making notes on a clipboard, but he had paused and was looking at me with a slight smile. "Um . . ." I tried to continue, but my train of thought had disappeared. "Let's have a conference. In the hallway. I think I have an idea."

  We trooped out to the hall. I said, "I think we should go in and try to negotiate a peace treaty."

  "He's not going to negotiate with us."

  "Yes, he is." I said.

  "What makes you so sure?"

  "Because they can't get out of there unless they do. We have the side of the room with the doors. I don't think they're going to want to climb out of a third-story window."

  There was a moment of appreciative silence. You could almost hear the smiles spreading.

  "Yeah, let's go. Who's got a handkerchief? We need a white flag-"

  We trooped back in and announced, "We come in peace. We want to negotiate a settlement."

  "Why should I? You're a bunch of radicals and subversives who were thrown out of the system because you wouldn't cooperate with it."

  "The system doesn't work," said Janice. "We want a better one."

  "Yeah," said Mariette. "One we can be a part of."

  "You're already part of the system. You're the rebels. We have to have rebels to punish as examples."

  "Well, we don't want to be rebels anymore!"

  "Too bad," said Whitlaw from behind his barrier. "You're troublemakers. The only role for you is rebels. That's what you're good at." We could see him grinning.

  "You gotta take us back, Whitlaw-" That was Paul Jastrow.

  "Eh? I don't gotta anything!"

  "Yes, you do," I said. "You can't get out of the room until we let you."

  "Ahh," he said. "You found something to bargain with. All right, what is it you want?"

  "We want our money back!" screamed Joey Hubre. Joey?

  "We want to come back to class," said Janice.

  "-amnesty!" said Paul.

  "-a fair deal!" I said.

  "-respect!" said Mariette.

  "-the rights of Englishmen," said Hank quietly, and we all turned to look at him.

  "Huh?"

  But Whitlaw was grinning. "You-your name? Chelsea? Right." He made a note on his clipboard. "A for the day. Now let's see if you can keep it. What are those rights?"

  Hank was standing before the barrier of desks, his arms folded. "No more taxes, Mr. Whitlaw, unless we get some say in how the money is to be spent. No more expulsions from the class unless there's a fair hearing. No more unfair use of force. We want the right to disagree with you, and the right to express our disagreements freely without you throwing us out."

  "It's my classroom and the law says I can run it any way I want."

  "Well, then we want that law changed."

  "Sorry, that's one law I didn't make. I can't change that."

  "It doesn't matter. You can change the way you run your class. You said you h
ave autonomy. Let's negotiate some changes that'll make this class acceptable to all of us."

  "Since when do students have the right to tell teachers how to teach?"

  "Since we have all the doors!" cried Paul.

  "Shh!" said Hank.

  "Who appointed you president?"

  "Will you shut up? One person is supposed to talk for all of us!"

  "I didn't agree to that!"

  "It doesn't matter what you agreed to-it's the way things are!"

  "You're just as bad as he is! Well, the hell with you, then!" Paul marched to the end of the room and sat down, glowering. Hank looked around at the rest of us, a little panicky. "Listen, people-if we don't cooperate with each other, this isn't going to work. We can't show any weakness."

  "Yeah," said Janice. "Hank's right. We can't bog down in arguments among ourselves."

  "Yeah, but that's no license for you to take over," said Mariette. "Paul's right. We didn't have an election."

  "Wait a minute," I said. "I don't want to argue-and I agree with you that we've all gotta pull together or we'll certainly be pulled apart-but I think we have to recognize that each of us is in this rebellion for a different reason and each of us wants to have a say in the negotiations. I want the same thing Paul wants-to be heard."

  "May I say something?" John Hubre stepped forward, the silent twin. "Let's draft a list of our demands, and vote on the ones that we want to make Whitlaw adhere to."

  Hank looked defeated. "All right. Who's got some paper? I'll write 'em down."

  "No," said John. "We'll put them on the screen, where everyone can see them. And I think the entire class should discuss them and vote on them. Is that okay by you, Mr. Whitlaw?"

  "Do I have any choice?"

  John looked startled. "Uh ... no. Of course not."

  "May I offer a suggestion?" asked Whitlaw.

  "Uh ... all right."

  "Let's dismantle this mountain of furniture so we can operate in a more civilized situation. The rest of this war is cancelled until further notice."

  In short order, we looked like a classroom again, except that instead of tyrannizing us, Whitlaw was standing quietly to one side, observing-and only occasionally offering suggestions. The list of demands grew to thirty in less than five minutes. Whitlaw looked them over, snorted and said, "Don't be silly." The class reactions ranged from, "Huh? What's wrong with these demands?" to "You don't have any choice!"

  He held up a hand. "Please-I want you all to take another look at this list. Most of your grievances appear to be legitimate, but take another look and see if you notice something about your demands."

  "Well, some of these are kind of petty," said Paul Jastrow. "I mean, like number six. No more ripping shirts. Maybe that one's important to Doug-but how important is it to the rest of us?"

  Janice said, "And some of them are redundant-like the right to express ourselves freely encompasses the right to assemble and the right to speak and the right to publish-so we don't have to list all three, do we?"

  And then other voices chimed in with their opinions. Whitlaw had to hold up a hand for silence.

  He said, "You're all right, of course. It's important to have protection for every situation, whether we specify it or not. I suggest that what you're looking for is an umbrella under which you can operate-an all-purpose rule."

  He let us argue for only a few moments, then brought us back to the issue again. "Your demands are valid. Look at your rules again, and see if you can boil them down to one or two sentences."

  We did as he suggested. With a little help, eventually we came up with "The government shall be accountable to the people for its actions. The people shall have the right to express their differences freely."

  "Congratulations," smiled Whitlaw. "Now what happens if I refuse to accept it?"

  "You don't have any choice," said Mariette.

  "Why not?"

  "Because if you don't, we'll just rebel again."

  "Uh huh. What if I hire some more football players?"

  "You can't afford to hire as many as you'll need."

  "I'll raise taxes."

  That prompted some groans and an immediate response from one of the boys who had not been expelled. "Where do I sign up to join the rebellion?"

  "That's why you don't have any choice," Hank said. "You don't have the tax base."

  "You're right," Whitlaw said. He went back to the front of the room. "All right, then-are we in agreement on this point? That if a government is not accountable to its citizenry, that citizenry is justified in removing that government from power-by whatever means necessary?"

  There was general assent.

  "I see. The kicker in there is the last line. `By whatever means necessary.' Obviously it includes open rebellion. How about terrorism? How about assassination? And at what point do you decide that those actions are necessary?"

  Paul Jastrow was still sullen. He said, "When there's no other course of action left to us."

  "All right, let's consider that. Was your rebellion justified?" General assent.

  "Because I didn't want to listen to what you wanted to say, right?"

  Again agreement.

  Whitlaw said, "Suppose I had set up a complaint box. Would the rebellion still have been justified?"

  There was a thoughtful pause while each of us considered it. I raised my hand. "What would you do with the complaints put into the box?"

  Whitlaw grinned. "I'd throw them away at the end of each day without reading them."

  "Then, yes," I said. "The rebellion would have been justified."

  "What if I read the complaints?"

  "What would you do about them?"

  "'Nothing."

  "It's still justified."

  "What if I acted on those I agreed with? All the ones that didn't inconvenience me personally."

  I thought about it. "No, that's still not good enough."

  Whitlaw looked exasperated. "What is it you people want?"

  "A fair system of handling our grievances."

  "Ahh, now we're getting somewhere. Do you begin to understand now? Your credo up there is very pretty, but it's worthless without the legal guarantees to back it up. What kind of system are you asking for-uh, McCarthy, is it?"

  "Yes, sir. How about an arbitration panel of three students? You pick one, we pick one and they pick the third. My father's union uses that system to handle disagreements."

  "All right, suppose I decreed that's the kind of system we'll have?"

  "No, sir, it has to be voted on. We all have to agree to it. Otherwise, it's still a case of you dictating to us."

  Whitlaw nodded and looked at his watch. "Congratulations. In just a little more than an hour, you've recreated more than a thousand years of human history. You've overthrown a government, established a charter for a new system and created a court system with which to enforce it. That's a fair day's work."

  The bell rang then. We'd used an entire ninety-minute class period. As we started to gather our books, Whitlaw held up a hand. "Hold it. Stay in your seats. You're not going to your next class today. Don't worry, your other instructors have been informed. They know not to expect you. Does anyone need to pee? Okay, take ten minutes. Be back here and ready to go at eleven-forty."

  When we resumed, Joey Hubre was the first to raise his hand. "When do we get our money back?"

  Whitlaw looked at him severely. "Don't you understand? You don't. The government always plays for keeps."

  "But ... but ... but we thought this was-"

  "What? A game?" Whitlaw looked a little angry. "Weren't you paying attention? This was a tyranny! Would you have overthrown the government if you thought I wasn't playing for keeps? Of course not!"

  "All I want is my money back-"

  "It's part of the national treasury now. And even if I wanted to give it back, I couldn't. I've been overthrown. It's up to the new government to decide what to do with the money."

  The classroom was getting tense agai
n. Janice stood up and said, "Mr. Whitlaw! You were wrong to take our money!"

  "No, I wasn't-as soon as I declared myself a government, I was within my rights. You were wrong for letting me get away with it. Every single one of you. You!" He pointed at the first student who had handed over a casey. "-you were wrong for handing me that first coin. Why did you do it?"

  "You told me to."

  "Did I tell you I was going to give you anything in return for it?"

  "No."

  "Did I tell you I was going to give it back to you when we were through?"

  "No."

  "Then why did you give it to me?"

  "Uh..."

  "Right. You gave it to me. I didn't take it. So why are you telling me I'm the one who did wrong?"

  "You had an army!"

  "Not until after you gave me the money to pay for it." He said to the whole class, "Your only mistake was your timing. You should have rebelled when I declared myself your government. I had no right to do so, but you let me get away with it. You should have demanded accountability then-before I had enough money to hire an army."

  He was right. He had us there. We all looked a little embarrassed.

  "Well, what do we do now?" wailed Mariette.

  "I don't know. I'm not the government anymore. You overthrew me. You took away my power. All I'm doing now is following orders. Your orders. I'll do anything with this money that a majority of you can agree on."

  It took less than thirty seconds to pass a resolution requiring the disbursement of all funds collected in the recent taxation.

  Whitlaw nodded and opened his desk drawer. He started counting coins. "Uh, we have a problem-there are forty-four of you in this class. But there are only thirty caseys here. If you'll remember, the former government spent eighteen caseys on an army."

  Four people stood up to author the next resolution, requiring the return of funds paid to former members of the Imperial Guard. Whitlaw vetoed that. "Sorry. Doesn't that fall into the realm of confiscation? Remember the five-casey note I took unfairly? You just had a rebellion because you didn't want a government able to do that. Now you're setting up a new government to do exactly the same thing."

  "But this is different-"

  "No it isn't! Confiscation is confiscation! It doesn't matter who does the confiscating-the person still loses something!"