“Soon we’ll have no strong enemies. It’s time for us to start identifying targets of opportunity.”
Yurii gestured a warning. “I agree that we should identify some targets. But remember that from this time forward, the longer we wait, the weaker the Americans will become. Why spend blood when patience will achieve the same goals?”
Sipyagin rolled his lips impatiently. “I suppose you’re right. And yet it would be beautiful to conclude this struggle in my lifetime.” He paused. “And I guess I’m still suspicious. Will the Americans really follow through on this treaty? Even now I can’t believe that they could act so foolishly.”
“I’d fear they were up to something myself, were it not for the effectiveness of our information-gathering system. We’ve already received confirmation of massive dismantlings in the American military effort.”
“Really? What juicy tidbit has the KGB found for us
o>>>>
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Yurii laughed. “The KGB is not our best information-gathering system, my comrade. The American news media have found out for us.”
“Ah, of course.”
Yurii rose to push the American video cassette home inside a Japanese VCR. How wonderfully thoughtful their enemies were, to supply these delightful machines!
Up came the image of a popular TV newsman. Yurii asked, “How’s your English these days? I can play it direct or in translation.”
Sipyagin waved a languid hand. “I’ll manage,” he said.
ZOOM. The camera closes in on Bill Hardie s nut-brown face. This newscaster had amused Yurii a number of times before. This time, however, something seems different; the wild fire in Hardie’s wide eyes has cooled. “President Mayfield claims to have pulled off yet another coup in the frenetic realm of global negotiations. Restating his devotion to American-Soviet harmony, today he announced his latest treaty, the Smart Weapons Ban.”
“This man is popular in the United States?” the General Secretary asked.
“He was tremendously popular several months ago. He seems to have lost some of his following recently.”
“He doesn’t quite have the glitter I expected.”
Yurii nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll replace him shortly. They always do.”
CUT. The scene shifts to East Berlin. A line of pickets encounters a line of East German soldiers—soldiers who supposedly aren’t allowed in East Berlin because of the Allied Accords signed after World War II, but who operate there nonetheless. Bill’s voice takes a note of foreboding. “The signing of the Smart Weapons Ban strikes an odd note, considering the accusations streaming between East and West. The clashes between rioters and soldiers in East Germany reached a new height today. In a major demonstration in East Berlin, two people are reported dead and several others wounded. The Soviet Union has denounced West Germany and the United States for supporting the riots. AU NATO countries have denied any involvement or assistance to the protesters whatsoever.”
The General Secretary grumbled, “Were going to have to take sterner measures with those Germans.”
CUT. “Despite the growing unrest, however, Soviet and American diplomats agreed that smart weapons should be banned from Europe and from other areas of likely American/Soviet conflict. In this context, smart weapons are defined to be weapons that use wholly internal guidance systems to find their targets. Retired Air Force Strategist Leslie Evans noted that this definition lets most of the Soviet smart systems deploy anyway, since their computers are too bulky and expensive to be placed inside the weapons themselves. However, Secretary of State Semmens hailed the treaty as ‘an extraordinary victory, which will freeze another expensive and counterproductive arms race in its tracks.’”
Yurii shook his head again in wonder. The only conclusion he could draw was that the United States had given up. Though they retained their ICBMs, their bombers and their subs, they had chosen to give up their superpower status.
ZOOM. ” Though the treaty does not explicitly ban the research and development of smart weapons, the Administration sees the treaty as an opportunity to close down numerous military R&D projects. At the top of the hit list is the largest and least productive R&D agency in the country, an agency that has spent over a billion dollars in the past decade without ever bringing a weapon system successfully through an operational test. The FIREFORS program office, and the twenty major programs controlled by it, will be dismantled as quickly as federal lawyers can cancel the contracts. For various technical and legal reasons, this process will not be completed until mid-January. Economic Advisor Pelino has stated that ‘the Smart Weapons Ban has made possible extraordinary savings in the defense budget. These savings significantly improve our chances of seeing our deficit reduced in this decade.’ ” Bill pauses. “There are many ways to view the gains and losses implicit in the Smart Weapons Treaty. A representative of the Zetetic Institute has also pointed out that—”
The stereo speakers hissed with static; the tape contained just a short clip from a longer discussion.
The General Secretary gazed at the monitor with wonder. “They’re really doing it, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they really are.”
Kira stepped to the threshold of Hilan Forstil’s office and paused there, reluctant to disturb the senator. Then, annoyed with herself for her timidity, she set her shoulders and crossed the room to stand by Hilan’s conference table.
He rose as she entered, nodded abruptly, and stepped around the desk to greet her. “Please come in, Ms. Evans,” he offered with a wave of his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
“You, too,” Kira replied, though she wasn’t sure she meant it. As far as Kira was concerned, this man had betrayed them. She had come here only because Uncle Nathan had assured her that Senator Forstil was their key man in Congress, and Kira couldn’t deny that they needed congressional help.
As they sat down together at the deeply polished mahogany table, Kira searched for clues to Forstil’s makeup. She felt a small shock at the barrenness of the room; it seemed politically unreasonable. No coffee mugs from contractors rested on his desk, no personal mottos adorned the walls. Even the books on the shelves were studiously neutral: encyclopedias, dictionaries, and the works of Greek philosophers gave no clue as to his religious preferences, or his attitude toward technology, or his thoughts on telecommuting. Kira wondered if all senators had offices so carefully devoid of opinion.
Hilan sat patiently while she completed this inspection of his life. When she looked back at him, his expression shifted, as though he feared that she might see him in a moment of vulnerability: he had been looking at her with open wonder, which changed under her gaze to a smile of stiff amusement. Kira could guess the cause of the open wonder: Hilan had been struck by her resemblance to her mother. “Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“No, I guess not. Did Nathan tell you why I came here?”
Hilan nodded. “To help me strategize ways to defeat the ban on telecommuting.”
Kira shook her head; she had thought she was in charge. She pursed her lips, but reminded herself that it didn’t make any difference who was in charge, unless they developed mutually exclusive plans. At the moment, she had no plans at all, though she had a few ideas. “Yes,” she said, “I came to discuss the ban on telecommuting.”
“Great. Why don’t we start with a look at the congressional votes on the original bill. That’s usually a good starting point for determining who has been pressured, and who has to be pressured, to overturn the decision.”
Kira nodded, her throat tight with surprise. She had wanted to recommend starting with an analysis of the vote herself, but had rejected the idea, fearing it would lead to a nasty confrontation too soon. Now, he had suggested it himself.
Hilan reached into a cabinet and withdrew a pair of fktt-panel terminals, revealing for the first time a familiarity with technology. The sight and touch of the beige plastic gave Kira a feeling of reassurance; the somber wood decor of th
is office felt stifling and lifeless.
Hilan’s voice took on a bright animation as he spoke about the men and women whose voting records scrolled down the screen. “Porter voted for it because the UAW is very strong in his district; he didn’t have much choice. Shepard must have been gotten by somebody; he’s a follower. Well deal with that later. Somebody got to Burrell, too, and that’s more worrisome. Bun-ell’s no wimp— there had to be heavy pressure to get him. Besides that, he’s the leader of his own caucus; he’s important.”
Hilan went through the whole list of votes, cataloging the senators and representatives according to their allegiances, their beliefs, and their weaknesses. They very rarely looked into the data base behind the table of votes. Hilan carried a data base in his mind almost as detailed and reliable as the data bases Daniel Wilcox kept on-line.
Finally, the scrolling list crossed the name she had feared. As Hilan skipped over it without comment, Kira punched the PAUSE button. “Wait,” she said. She pointed at the name of the missing person—one of the most powerful members of Congress, who had voted for the ban: HILAN FORSTIL. “You haven’t told me why you voted against the Institute.”
Hilan looked her in the eye, then looked away, the line of his jaw set in anger at forces beyond his control. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a swiss army knife, the kind often carried by backpackers. He rubbed the smooth surface as if it somehow reassured him. Kira remembered her mother’s story of Hilan and the crevasse high in the mountains and she wondered about its effect on him. He spoke quietly. “I voted against the Institute because I didn’t have a choice.”
“Oh, really.” Kira couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Oh, really. The unions did an extraordinary job of keeping me in the dark until they had enough votes mustered to push the ban through despite me. They knew I would oppose it.” He described the sequence of meetings and agreements contrived by the unions to put the plan in place while still keeping him in the dark. His description of the events was spotty. He still didn’t have a perfect understanding of how they had arranged it. “But I’m fairly sure they can’t do it again—at least, not the same way.” He smiled wolfishly. “I’ve acquired a few more spies since they put the ban into effect.” He shrugged. “Anyway, when they brought me an accomplished fact, I was in no position to oppose it. Since the resurgence of the unions in the last decade, they’re an important force in my state as well I can’t vote against them just on impulse.”
When Hilan looked back at her after this speech, Kira had the feeling of being under the scrutiny of an eagle. He countered, “As far as working against the Institute is concerned, I might ask you why you’ve chosen to go into business expanding and improving Wilcox-Morris’s advertising campaign. I’ve seen some of your ads. They’re very effective.”
The compliment felt like a slap on the face. Kira blushed, though Milan’s question was no different from the question she had asked herself. But now, at last, she had a powerful answer. “I went to work with Wilcox-Morris to find the missing pieces in the puzzle you just described. If you’ve been wondering how the unions were able to work completely around you, I know the answer. They did it with the help of the tobacco companies.” Kira launched into an analysis of the ban, as seen through the viewpoint of the Wilcox-Morris political machine. She had collected a vast quantity of detailed information from the Wilcox-Morris computers since that fateful night when Wilcox had confronted her uncle. She even knew the status of the investigation of her own background—they had not yet traced her connection with the Institute, because her mother’s role in Zeteticism wasn’t common knowledge. Jan had never stood in the limelight. Nathan, as founder and president of the Institute, had always been the focus of publicity.
With short brushstrokes, Kira painted the details of the anti-telecommuting picture that Hilan had sketched from his own sources. As she spoke, Hilan nodded as connections fell into place. Again, for just a few moments, tys face lit up with wonder. “Thank you,” he said as she finished. “My worries are much lighter, since you’ve removed these ambiguities.” He frowned. “Now that we know what happened, all we have to do is figure out how to undo it.” And so Hilan went over the list again. This time it was shorter. They had thrown out all the people who were not critical—all the followers. Some of the critical men could be won over with persuasion. Some could not be won at all: they believed for their own philosophical reasons in the need to cripple technology.
Others could not be won for practical reasons. The representatives from North Carolina, for example, had no choice but to follow the tobacco line, and the men from Michigan had no choice but to follow the unions. “They’re puppets,” Hilan explained, “and we can’t cut the strings.” He brightened. “I’m a puppet, too, of qpurse, and so are the rest of the people on this list who didn’t really want to vote for this ban. But we couldn’t fight it because there were too many people pulling our strings. Now we have to find a way for you to pull our strings.”
Kira laughed. “I already know how to pull your strings,” she said. “I’m going to use a pressure group—a voter block of such size and power that you can’t wiggle without our consent.”
Hilan chuckled. “Delightful! Where will your voter block come from?”
“From the networks. I’m going to assemble the biggest conference in history—an electronic one–and we’re going to show the unions, and the tobacco companies, and the politicians who’s got the biggest, toughest, meanest organization in the valley!” Her eyes blazed.
Hilan sat entranced, watching her. “Kira, I intend to help you.”
Kira relaxed suddenly, surprised to find she had clenched her fist. “Anyway, we have a lot of supporters available.”
“Ah, but are your supporters in the right places?” They matched up the members of the Zetetic networking community with the key members of Congress.
When they were done, they had composed a plan that would give them a majority vote in Congress. Hilan shook his head. “I don’t see a way of getting a two-thirds majority, and Jim Mayfield will veto our repeal in an eyeblink. He trembles every time the lobbyists come to visit.” His voice grew cold and bright at the same time. “Kira, how soon can you hold your conference?”
“When do you want it?”
“The Congressional elections are a week away.”
Kira looked puzzled, then realized what that could mean. “If we can form a constituency fast enough, we can overturn them.”
Hilan smiled.
Kira shot up in her seat. “We can show them just how dangerous our lobby can be, with just a week of organizing. We’ll teach Mayfield to tremble, all right.” She laughed—the tense laugh of a race car driver before the opening gun. “You know, the unions are against telecommuting because they’re afraid it’ll make it more difficult for them to organize. Well, they’re about to find out that the networks—the same systems that make telecommuting possible—make organizing easier.”
Hilan shook his head. “Being a puppet will never be the same. Even I tremble at the thought of dangling at the end of your strings, Kira Evans.”
She twitched her nose. “I promise to be gentle,” she replied, rising from the table.
“Your mother would be very proud,” he whispered as she departed.
January 8
To predict the future, you must first successfully predict the past
—Zetetic Commentaries
Black lettering blinked against white blankness. LET ACCURACY TRIUMPH OVER VICTORY. The words melted, then returned at the top of the wall-sized decision duel display. For just a moment Nathan hated the words, though he himself had penned them. He had too many emotional attachments in this duel—attachments to the survival of the Sling project on the one hand, and to the survival of the Institute on the other. The beat of his own heart outpaced the slow beat of the black letters. As more letters appeared beneath the cautionary words, Nathan could feel them printing, not upon the screen, but upon hi
s eyes, as though he himself were the display screen upon which they would etch this duel.
Nathan slumped into the left-hand duelist’s chair. Briefly, his hands slid across the smooth-worn surfaces of trackball and keyboard in a caressing touch. Never before had he dueled for such high stakes; never before had the Institute faced the danger of fading into oblivion.
The new words listed the duel topic and positions. On the left was the position Nathan would defend: CONTINUE THE SLING PROJECT, USING THE INSTITUTE’S OPERATING CAPITAL. On the right glared the opposing stance: STOP WORK ON THE SLING PROJECT.
As president of the Institute and the largest single stockholder, Nathan had the power to enforce his own opinion. There was nothing in the Zetetic viewpoints that argued against such unilateral action: in every decision, a single individual ultimately makes the choice. But the very intensity of Nathan’s desires bound him to the decision duel analysis; this decision had to be the best possible. If he concluded that the duel had produced the wrong answer, he would disregard it—but that was the least likely possible outcome.
Duels did not always produce accurate decisions, of course. The Institute recognized three broad classes of decisions, and three broad methods of decision-making: engineering decisions, political decisions, and unresolv-able decisions. Engineering decisions were made by finding the correct, or best, answer. This was the best decision-making methodology whenever possible, but often, human affairs proved too ambiguous for this wholly rational analysis.
Political decisions were made by building an answer of consensus. In difficult cases, the consensus decision might be to let one particular man make a decision, but that was a form of consensus nevertheless. Because political decision systems could generate decisions in more situations than engineering decision systems, political systems typically gained preeminence over engineering. For the most part, this arrangement worked well—except that too often, the politicians made political decisions in situations where engineering applied, usually with tragic consequences. The key question was, how do you decide whether to use engineering or politics to decide? Politicians all too often decided to use politics.
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