by John Brunner
Grey: Thank you, Miss Page.
Page: Speaking of wraps, I notice you have your arm in a sling, Tom. I hope—Oh, excuse me just a second ... I’m sorry, world, but we’ve been asked to yield a minute of air time for a public service announcement. We’ll be back with you in a moment. Go ahead.
Naval commander: This is an emergency announcement from the Department of Defense, Navy. Hear this, hear this, all personnel currently on shore leave in the following states: New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Florida, Texas, California. Report at once to the nearest Army or Air Force base or National Guard headquarters and place yourselves at the disposal of the commanding officer. Your assistance is required in quelling civil disorder. That is all.
Page: I see we have someone right here in the studio who’s off to answer that call. We’ll just stand by for a moment while he’s leaving. (Audience applause.) That’s okay, then. Tom, I was wondering about your arm.
Grey: It’s nothing serious, I’m glad to say. I—uh—I got caught on the fringes of one of those civil disorders they were just talking about. (Audience laughter.) But I got off with just a wrenched shoulder.
Page: Fighting back? (Audience laughter.)
Grey: No, my car ran over a caltrap and hit a lamppost. (Audience laughter.)
Page: Well, I hope you’re better soon. Now about this idea of yours— Just a second, is something wrong?
Voice from audience: Smoke! I’m sure I can smell smoke!
Page: I’ll check with my producer. Ian? ... You’re right, friend, but it’s nothing to worry about. It’s blowing up from Newark, apparently. You know there’s a big fire there. Count yourself lucky to be in here—I’m told it’s far worse out-of-doors! (Audience laughter.) Tom, this undertaking of yours must have been incredibly complex. You’ve had to analyze literally every major factor affecting our predicament, right?
Grey: Yes, every one.
Page: And you’re now in a position to reveal the chief conclusion—Sorry! Hold on. Yes, Ian, what is it this time? ... Oh. Yes, of course; that sounds urgent. I’ll tell them ... Another announcement for you, world—sorry to keep interrupting like this, but of course we can’t ignore what’s going on. And this is an important and very tragic piece of news. It seems the Niagara Falls Bridge is out—either blown or collapsed, no one yet knows which, but because there are so many people trying to get over the Canadian border there, all TV and radio networks are being asked to tell people to avoid the area so that essential help can get through—the highways are kind of crowded up that way, I’m told ... Tom, as I was saying: you can unveil your conclusions now, right?
Grey: Yes, and they’re crucially important. Of course, I’ve been able to take into account only such items as natural resources, oxygen level, food stocks, water reserves, and so on, and—ah—it’s curiously ironical in a way because one might say—
Page: Tom, I’m sorry, but the producer is buzzing me again. Yes? ... I see. Will do. Tom, they’re going to pre-empt us in about two minutes. The president is winding up to a new pitch. Can you keep your main point short, please?
Grey: Well, as I was about to say, it’s sort of ironical, because we’re already engaged, in a sense, in the course of action my findings dictate.
Page: Don’t keep the world on tenterhooks, Tom! Out with it! What’s the best thing we can do to ensure a long, happy, healthy future for mankind?
Grey: We can just about restore the balance of the ecology, the biosphere, and so on—in other words we can live within our means instead of on an unrepayable overdraft, as we’ve been doing for the past half century—if we exterminate the two hundred million most extravagant and wasteful of our species.
Page: Follow that if you can, Mr. President. It’s your reward for pre-convicting Austin Train. World, what about lighting him a funeral pyre? Doesn’t he deserve—?
(Transcript ends.)
THE SMOKE OF THAT GREAT BURNING
Opening the door to the visiting doctor, all set to apologize for the flour on her hands—she had been baking—Mrs. Byrne sniffed. Smoke! And if she could smell it with her heavy head cold, it must be a tremendous fire!
“We ought to call the brigade!” she exclaimed. “Is it a hayrick?”
“The brigade would have a long way to go,” the doctor told her curtly. “It’s from America. The wind’s blowing that way.”
NEXT YEAR
The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,
But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread.
—Milton: “Lycidas”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Brunner was born in England in 1934 and educated at Cheltenham College. He sold his first novel in 1951 and has been publishing sf steadily since then. His books have won him international acclaim from both mainstream and genre audiences. His most famous novel, the classic Stand on Zanzibar, won the Hugo Award for Best Novel in 1969, the British Science Fiction Award, and the Prix Apollo in France. Mr. Brunner lives in Somerset, England.