“You have family there.”
“I’ll miss them—but I won’t miss the draft, the army, the military, the intolerance …”
He gasped for air and I nodded agreement. “Understood. This planet has a lot going for it. Though I still don’t understand all the permutations of IM it seems to be working. But all is not peace and light yet. Let us not forget Zennor.”
Morton groaned. “I would love to.”
Next morning it looked as though the entire family was standing around and beaming down upon us. While the ladies of the house fought to see how many eggs, wiffles and other gustatory goodies they could force upon us. We fought honorably to do our best. Groaning we finally pushed away from the table while the audience went off to work on the farm.
“That was very good,” Morton said.
“That was very wonderful,” I amplified.
“Both meals already deducted from your account,” Neebe smiled, handing me back my wirrdisc. “I added an order to transfer payment to Morton’s account when it is opened.”
“I love IM hospitality,” I said. “It is personal without being financial. I want to learn more about your world.”
“I will be happy to tell you anything you want to know,” she said with that same endearing smile. What were these warm sensations that coursed through my body? I forgot them instantly as her smile faded. “But we will have to talk about it later. Right now I think you should see the TV. We recorded a broadcast made earlier this morning.”
It had to be Zennor—and it had to be bad news. I watched grimly as the screen lit up and a blast of martial music assaulted my ears. Troops marched, tanks rumbled by, guns fired. A recording undoubtedly; I recognized Mortstertoro base in the background. I suppose the sight of all this might was supposed to strike terror into the hearts of the viewers. I knew them well enough now to understand that they would just be puzzled at the waste of all this material and manpower for no observable reasonable purpose. I turned down the sound until the last tank had ground by, the last jet roared its last roar. The screen cleared and the familiar and loathsome features appeared.
“We are mighty, we are invincible—and we will prevail!” Zennor was coldly angry now. “I have been kind to your people. I have even been generous to my own misled soldiers. No more. I have shown you kindness because I am a kind man. Now I will teach you fear because my rule will not be mocked. You have aided and abetted deserters from our army—who are now under instant penalty of death. You must be aiding them because not one—not one of them took advantage of my kind offer of amnesty. Nor have any of them been found in this city. They could not have escaped without aid. Therefore the people of Bellegarrique are guilty of treason, of aiding traitors and deserters, and they will pay for their crimes. I speak to you now, you inhabitants of the rest of this country. The citizens of Bellegarrique know of their guilt for they are attempting to flee my wrath. This city is almost deserted now as they crawl away like the cowardly vermin that they are. But not all of them have escaped. I have seized and imprisoned hundreds of these traitors. I did this once before and my requests were granted. I was kind and generous and released the prisoners. I will not be as kind this time—or as easy to please. Here are my demands—and they will be met.
“Firstly, I want every escaped deserter returned to this city. I will not inflict the death penalty but will enlist them instead in penal, hard-labor battalions. I said that I was a merciful man.
“Secondly, I demand that all of the services of this city be restored, electricity and public utilities, and the food markets must be reopened. This will be done. I want to see people returning today, I want the normal life of this city to be as it was when we arrived, I want the deserters turned over to the military police. You will do this, and begin doing it now.”
He paused dramatically, then pointed his finger directly at the camera.
“You will do it because in one day from now I will shoot ten of the prisoners. I will shoot these first ten no matter what you do, as an object lesson that I mean what I say. I will shoot ten of them the next day and, ten again the day after that if my orders are not obeyed. If my orders are obeyed the shooting will stop. But it will begin again whenever I feel that my desires are being thwarted.”
That was it. That was all. And it certainly was enough. The screen went blank and I found myself staring at Morton with nothing at all to say.
“There are rare cases of insanity like that here,” Neebe said. “Gene changes not caught in prenatal examination. He is insane, isn’t he? These things that he says he will do—they are impossible. He won’t really have innocent people killed?”
I was too ashamed of the human race to look at her, to answer her questions. Morton did; he was angry.
“Yes, he will, that is the worst part. I grew up with his kind of people in charge of my life. Believe me, he will do it.”
“Then what can we do to stop him?”
“That is an almost unanswerable question,” I said. “You can’t force the deserters to undesert. Knowing IM you wouldn’t even think of asking them. And I don’t know what they will do voluntarily. If you had a government they could deal with Zennor, come up with some workable compromise perhaps. But he still hasn’t realized that there is no central government to meet with. The future does not bear thinking about.”
“But we have to think about it,” Morton said, with a cold grimness I had never seen before. “Zennor must be killed. There is no other way.”
“No!” Neebe said. “That is a hideous suggestion. This problem is so strange, so awful, that it would take the wisdom of Mark Forer itself to solve it.”
“Maybe, maybe,” I muttered. “But I feel that what is happening here is well beyond even the mighty capacities of that long-gone brain to solve.”
“Nothing was ever beyond Mark Forer,” she said with calm and unshakable belief. It angered me. It was like calling in the deity of your choice as you fell off the cliff, begging for aid. Praying for a heavenly hand that would never, never swoop down from the sky to save you.
“That is just an opinion, your opinion. And to me it sounds more like blind faith than intelligent thought. We have to work this out ourselves because Mark Forer is long gone, rusted away. It can’t help us now.”
“Mark Forer could help us,” she said with calm unreason. “But of course we could never ask. That is a basic tenet of IM. We must solve our problems for ourselves. Everything we need to know is in the writings that it gave us.”
“You are just jollying yourself along. You could ask, but you won’t. That is a way out. You can’t ask because it is not around to ask.”
“That is not true,” she said sweetly, smiling warmly upon my ill humor. “Mark Forer is in Bellegarrique, where it always has been.”
I have known stoppers in my day. But this was the whopper topper stopper. I stared speechlessly at Morton. If I looked like he did then my jaw was hanging open, my eyes were popping and I was gurgling like an idiot. Neebe smiled warmly upon us and waited impatiently until we got reglued and were able to speak again. I sputtered first.
“Mark Forer … gone … thousands of years ago …”
“Why? Essentially an artificial intelligence must be immortal. I suppose bits and pieces get replaced as they wear out, but the intelligence will remain the same. Or grow. We have always been immensely pleased that Mark Forer saw fit to accompany us to this world. We sincerely hope that it watches and approves of the way we practice IM. But of course we would never consider asking it for aid.”
“Well I would,” I said, climbing to my feet. “I certainly would ask for help without a moment’s hesitation. Mark Four’s social theories are about to get a lot of people shot dead. So that cold artificial intelligence had better have some answers how to arrange it so that they don’t.”
“But you will have to go back to Bellegarrique to dig Mark Four out,” Morton said. I nodded grim agreement.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that just yet.
But, yes, Morton old friend. I’ve got to find where our great electronic leader lives and search it out. And there better be some ready answers.”
CHAPTER 28
“Do you know where Mark Forer plugs in?” I asked Neebe. She shook her head.
“Not physically. It is just known, understood, that Mark Forer came with us and aided in the design of the city of Bellegarrique. And never left it.”
“Well someone has to know.” I thought hard, then snapped my fingers. “Our old friend, Stirner, he should have that vital bit of info. One of the top men in the world of electricity. And if he doesn’t know he will surely know someone who does know. Do you have any idea of how I can contact him?”
“The telephone is over there.”
“Thanks, Neebe, but I don’t have his number or the slightest idea where he is staying or anything.”
“But no one has a number. And it doesn’t matter where he is staying. Just call CD and ask for him.”
“CD?”
“Central Directory. Here, I’ll get it for you.”
She tapped the keypad and the screen lit up with NAME, PLEASE? in large letters. Very polite. Very efficient. I tip my hat to the man or machine that wrote this software. I answered four questions and the screen changed to RINGING. The letters faded and Stirner’s grim face appeared on the screen. He smiled faintly when he saw me, but he had obviously been watching the broadcast too.
“Ahh, good offplanet friend Jim. I hope that you are well. Can I do you a service?”
“You certainly can, good dynamo supervising friend Stirner. I would like to have a chat with your demigod, Mark Forer.”
“A strange choice of terms. I would certainly not refer to it as a demi …”
“Then forget the term. Do you know where Mark Forer is?”
“Of course.”
“Will you take me to it?”
“Ahh, now that is a question that needs some thought. Mark Forer’s individualism has always been respected, for all the obvious reasons. I do remember reading in the historical records that after this city was founded it did make suggestions and was occasionally consulted. But not lately, not in, hundreds of years at least. I would not go to it myself, but, yes, I feel that I can take you. I respect your individualism just as I respect Mark Forer’s. We must each make our own way in this world.”
“And I am going to make my way back into the city.”
“You must be careful. It will not be easy. The trains have stopped running and citizens are being forcefully stopped from leaving. At last report no one was returning.”
“I’ll think of something. You are still in the city?”
“Yes.”
“Stay near the phone. I’ll get there today. I must talk to Mark before Zennor’s deadly deadline runs out tomorrow morning.”
I hung up and looked blankly into space. I could see no answers hanging out there.
“Any advice, Morton?”
“None that make any sense. Like being a returned deserter.”
“Like you, that idea I considered and rejected. That would just get me back in jail and shot.”
“May I make a suggestion?” Neebe said.
“All aid greatly desired.”
“I will take you to the city. You will go as my father. We have a wonderful theatre group here in Ling and our makeup department is quite famous. You could be an old man, I could be your daughter and driver. It would be so exciting.”
“You’re wonderful!” I jumped to my feet and, in a fit of mad enthusiasm seized her and kissed her. Then I sat down quickly again as the hormones started humming and driving all other thoughts from mind. She was an incredibly bright, lovely, intelligent, beautiful girl and I was just going to have to forget all about that. For the time being. “We better get started.”
“My brother will take you to the theatre. I will phone them and arrange what must be done. Then I will make the transportation arrangements. You do not mind if I say that I find this fascinating and exciting as well. I must thank you for letting me help. It is so much more fun than school.”
“The thanks are mine. What do you study in school?”
“Vulcanology. I just love the magma and the scoria, then when you go down the fumerole …”
“Yes. You must tell me of those burning pleasures. Later.”
“Of course—there is my brother now.”
I think that it was a special train that they laid on. Just two cars and no other passengers. Morton looked guilty—but glad as well that he wasn’t going back to Bellegarrique. I waved him a stiff goodbye with my cane and climbed shakily aboard. I was ancient and crochety and needed practice. Gray beard, rheumy red eyes, wrinkled like an old boot, they had really done a great job at the theatre. A harness under my clothes had me bent over so far that I was staring down at my wrinkled and liverspotted hands.
The track was straight, the train was fast and there were no stops until we reached our destination. A black vehicle was waiting on the platform when we arrived. The driver got out and held the door open for us.
“You’ve driven one of these?” he asked.
Neebe nodded. “A two hundred volt Lasher-gnasher. Great fun to drive.”
“Indeed they are. I’ve got her revved up to thirty-three thousand. More than enough energy for the trip.” He pointed to the circular housing between the rear wheels. “The flywheel is in here, electric generator on its shaft. Motor on the front wheels. Clean and nonpolluting.”
“And very hard to turn over with that gyroscope down there,” I said.
“You’ve got it. Good luck.”
Neebe spun the wheels and I was pushed back into the seat by a large number of G’s. We hurtled along the empty road.
“I’ll slow down before we reach the roadblock. Isn’t this fun! I wonder what the top speed is?”
“Don’t … find out!” I croaked as the landscape hurtled by in a blur. “Though I am an old man and have led a full life I don’t want to terminate it quite yet!”
She laughed her gorgeous bell-like laugh and slowed to something close to the speed of sound. She obviously knew the road well, all those bicycle outings of course, for suddenly she hit the brakes, slowed to a crawl, then turned the corner just before the barrier across the road.
“What you doing blocking the road like that, you varmints?” I croaked testily out of the window, then shook my cane at the fat captain who was leaning against it picking his teeth. Remnants of hotpup, I hoped.
“Knock off the cagal, Grandpop. Where do you think you’re going?”
“Are you as stupid as you look, stupid? Or haven’t you heard your supreme commander’s orders? City workers to return at once. I am an electrical engineer and if you want light in your latrines and refrigeration for your beer you will open that thing instantly or sooner.”
“Don’t get your cagal in an uproar, Grandpop,” he sneered. But he stepped back and signaled two sergeants to open the barrier. Not a private in sight, I noticed. I hoped the officers enjoyed doing their own work for a change. I shook the cane one last shake as we drove past, then on down the road and around a bend and out of sight. Neebe pulled up at the first phonebox and I leaped arthritically down.
“Are you in the city?” Stirner asked.
“Just arrived.”
“Very good. Then we will meet at the entrance.”
“Entrance? What, where?”
“Mark Forer Square, of course. Where else would it be?”
Good question. I had imagined that only the statue was there. I hadn’t realized that old Mark itself was in residence. I climbed back into the car and we were off with the usual screech of tires. I pulled off bits of the disguise as we went, starting with the harness. I left the beard on in case there were any patrols around—and there were.
“Slow down,” I cozened. “Let’s not be too suspicious.”
The sergeant leading the patrol glared at us as we went by. I ignored him but was very impressed by his squad. As they turned th
e corner the last two slipped into the open door of a building and vanished from sight. So not only weren’t the deserters returning—but their ranks were steadily being added to. Great! If this kept up Zennor would soon have army of only officers and noncoms. You don’t win wars with that kind of setup. I saw that we were getting close to our destination so I pulled at the beard and wrinkles and was forty years younger by the time we turned into the square and slid to a stop. Stirner was standing before the statue, looking up at it admiringly.
“I wish I were coming with you,” he said.
“I as well,” Neebe agreed. “It would be wonderfully exciting. But of course we have not been asked so we cannot intrude.”
“How do I get in?”
Stirner pointed to a bronze door at the rear of the stone base of the statue. “Through there.” “Got the key?” They both looked at me with surprise. “Of course not. It’s not locked.”
“I should have known,” I muttered. What a philosophy. Hundreds, thousands of years the door has been here, unlocked, and no one had ever gone through it. I put out my hand and they took it in turn and shook it solemnly. I could understand why. This was a little like saying so-long to the head of your local church as he started up the ladder to see God.
The handle was stiff, but turned when I twisted hard. I pulled and the door squeaked slowly open. Steps led down into the ground, a little dusty. Lights came on and I could see that one of the bulbs was burned out. I just hoped that Mark Forer wasn’t burned out as well.
I sneezed as my feet disturbed the dust of ages. And it was a long way down. The steps ended in a small chamber with illuminated wiring diagrams on the walls and a large, gold-plated door. Carved into it, and inset with diamonds, were the immortal words I AM. THEREFORE I THINK. Beneath this was a small sign with red letters that read PLEASE WIPE FEET BEFORE ENTERING. I did this, on the mat provided, took a deep breath and reached for the handle that appeared to have been carved from a single ruby.
The door swung open on oiled hinges and I went in. A large, well-lit room, dry and airconditioned. Dials and electronic devices covering one wall. And in the middle of the room …
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