The Fall of Chance

by McGowan, Terry

  “Anyway,” Pearson continued, “Each Councillor is assigned to one of seven areas: Welfare, Education, Order, Infrastructure, Resources, Strategic Planning and the Chairman.

  “Brooker is currently with Welfare and so are you and me. That means we deal with food, health, housing and safety. There’s quite a lot on our plate so you’ll find yourself good and busy.

  “Taylor, who we’re going to see now, is with Education. Erk is with Order, Hodd’s with Infrastructure, Pello’s on Strategy and as you know, Kelly’s Chairman.”

  Unt couldn’t miss the omission. “So, Resources…”

  “Are with Lasper, yep.” Pearson looked awkward. “I’m sorry, mate, I’d leave him out if I could but I’ve got to take you round everyone.”

  “It’s fine,” said Unt.

  “I know you can’t have missed his reaction,” said Pearson, “But neither did the other Councillors. Yesterday, back doors, the old boys gave him a good dressing down. You needn’t be scared of him.”

  You needn’t be scared, thought Unt. He’d heard those words twice today already. If Lasper was so not-dangerous, why did everyone feel the need to tell him?

  They stopped outside an unmarked door, just like Brooker’s. They’d stayed on the same level, turned right at a corridor above a stairwell and continued midway down another corridor. By Unt’s reckoning, that put them in chambers above and behind the main assembly hall. Pearson knocked and at the beckon of a voice within, they entered.

  This room was wider and shallower than Brooker’s and had three desks set facing each other. Behind, on either side of a pair of windows, were two doors that likely led off to more office space.

  A Novice and an Acolyte were sat at the side desks while leaning back against the front of the middle one was a white-robed Councillor. Unt knew him straight away as Councillor Taylor.

  Taylor was one of the five surviving founders. He had a fleshless skull and his hair was grey but his lantern jaw belied any hint of frailty. His skin was like a walnut and looked just as tough. Unt was reminded of Taylor’s fearsome reputation.

  He was a firebrand - militant and fierce - but a protector of the community and still a hero to most people. His mummified hands were deeply tanned where his long knuckles gripped the desk. His face was drawn back in what looked like a rigor of agony but was in fact a smile.

  “Come in, boys, come in,” Taylor waved them toward him.

  “Mr Brooker sent me to show Unt here round the building,” said Pearson.

  “Of course he did,” said Taylor. “Why have a dog and lick your own balls? Drink?” He snapped his fingers at his Novice who reached for a decanter full of some amber spirit.

  “Not for me, thanks,” said Pearson.

  “Baby,” said Taylor, “But you’ll take one with me, won’t you Unt?”

  Thankfully, Pearson stepped in on Unt’s behalf. “I don’t think Mr Brooker would be happy if I brought him back half-cut.”

  The Novice had poured Taylor’s drink but without someone to share it, he waved it impatiently away.

  “So you’re showing him the ropes, eh?” he asked Pearson. “I suppose you’ll be eager to pass on all that fetching and carrying that Brooker has you do?”

  Without giving Pearson a chance to answer, Taylor turned to Unt. “Don’t you listen to anything this reprobate tells you,” he said. “He’s red as a fox and every bit as crafty. Ninety percent of anything he says you should be doing will be something that he should be doing himself.”

  “Don’t believe a word, Unt,” said Pearson. Unt was just amazed to hear him speak so bold. “It’s the same in every office: the Novice does the leg-work, the Acolyte does the desk work and the Councillor takes all the credit. Every office except this one. Here you’ll just be made to drink.”

  “Training!” said Taylor, recalling his abandoned drink and knocking it back in one. “Once a man can perform his duties while drunk, he can perform them in any circumstance.”

  “But they can’t do their duties,” Pearson served back, “Stuff just gets screwed up and then we have the Educators howling on one side and the Chairman complaining on the other.”

  “Bah!” Taylor made a dismissive gesture, “You’re just upset because it was training you failed. All sinew, that’s your problem. Unt, did you know this here scarecrow got so drunk he fell out of a window with an entire year’s worth of exam papers?”

  “That’s because you made me drink a full bottle of whisky,” Pearson argued. Then they both laughed.

  “You see, Unt, that’s the beauty of our system,” said Taylor, “The rest of them will harp on about fairness but the best bit is that a man can be pickled and do his job just as well. No doubt you’ll have got this post because you’re a smart young buck but all you need here is the ability to pick up two dice, chuck ‘em and - if there’s no-one more sober about to do it for you - count ‘em.”

  “And that from your Councillor for Education,” finished Pearson. Even Unt smiled this time.

  “So you want to know what we do here?” Taylor spoke to Unt. “Well, the bulk of what we do is two-fold. One: we decide the curriculum for the little kiddies and ensure the Educators are doing their job. Two: we make sure the Orders train up their apprentices properly. Not you, mind- we don’t bother to keep track of our own.

  “Other than that, we teach the values of being good little citizens and, for some unfathomable reason, we direct the Artisans. I suppose they’re no use to man nor beast so someone’s gotta be stuck with ‘em.”

  “As you see, Councillor Taylor is a connoisseur of the Arts,” said Pearson.

  “Ah, get away, both of you,” said Taylor, “Don’t let me keep you from saying nothing with all the other coffin-dodgers.”

  They left as bidden but as Unt stood in the doorway, Taylor hollered, “Hey, Unt! Having problems with Lasper?”

  Unt nodded with an inward groan.

  “Just kick the old bastard in the nuts.”

  Pearson closed the door behind them and led on.

  “That was bizarre,” said Unt. “Are they all so…”

  “Colourful?” Pearson grinned, “No, Taylor’s a one-off, thank Fate. The others all have their quirks, sure, but Taylor leaves them all for dust in the bonkers stakes.”

  “I never imagined it like this,” said Unt.

  “We hide it well,” said Pearson. “It wouldn’t do for folk to think of us as human.”

  “No.”

  “But Taylor was right about one thing: the Novices are universally dumped on. Sorry, but there it is.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “You might be rotated through the offices but no matter where you go, the nature of things doesn’t change. File that, collect this, deliver those: that’s what it all boils down to. Glamorous, eh?”

  * * * *

  The next three Councillors they visited were far more muted and closer to what Unt had expected. Erk, in charge of Order, had the bearing of a professor. With wire-trimmed glasses and a beaklike nose, he reminded Unt of a woodpecker. He was slow and meticulous in his talk: not unkind but not engaging. He described his duties in the driest terms: his team made the rules and enforced them but with so little crime about, most of what he did was arbitrate petty disagreements and painstakingly review the law.

  It was also Erk’s duty to oversee the protection of the town’s borders but with no known settlements nearby, encounters with outsiders were few. The toughest job in defending the town, it seemed, was deciding whether the occasional traveller would be allowed to hock their wares.

  Next was Hodd who oversaw Infrastructure. His was a busy and chaotic office, crammed with display boards that covered every inch of space, including the windows.

  Heaps of paper were stacked across all three desks and when that space had run out, the floor had been invaded. Novice and Acolyte moved around so busily there seemed to be twice as many of them.

  Hodd was polite but clearly distracted. He rhymed off the purpose of ev
ery board and pile: drains, sewers, power, buildings and repair schedules were the limit of what Unt took in. By the time Hodd had rattled through the complex system of covered labels and string that connected them all, Unt was well beyond the coping limits of his brain.

  “That one’s very spiritual,” said Pearson as the door shut behind them, “Likes to meditate, if you can believe it. Must be killing him working in there.” Unt thought he’d be the same when the time came.

  Strategic Planning was the domain of the diminutive Pello, who had spoken at the Pride. He was famed as the architect of their system and seemed to be in his element. Talking to a confirmed Novice, he was more expansive than he’d been during Unt’s Work Experience.

  “Nothing goes to plan,” he chuckled as he wandered around the room. “Case in point: this year, there was call for another grain silo but in the end, the roll decided we needed another plinth for a statue: a great big one to commemorate the founding. I’d have liked a statue of me but we’ve ended up with a prism, of all things.”

  “A prism?” asked Pearson.

  “To refract the light,” said Pello, still moving, “It bends it in random ways which I’m told captures the spirit of the system. I built the system so you’d think I’d know but apparently not. Wonderful, isn’t it?” He seemed to mean it too and actually shook with laughter.

  The Strategists, he told Unt, created the town’s long-term plan. Although the principle of a strategy seemed at odds with a system built on chance, what it did was create an undercurrent of order that was still free of a controlling human hand.

  Pello used the morning’s caseload as an example: the blacksmiths had created a surplus of trenching tools because that was the random number they’d been told to make. The Strategists were trying to find a use for them with a major project. There were three options on the table: the farmers wanted to improve drainage and irrigation, another plan was to make a public swimming pool and another, grander scheme, envisioned building a canal to the nearby Moxie Hills. There was metal there and that was always in short supply but the project was undoubtedly ambitious. Pello’s team were weighing all the options, trying to create a matrix that would give all proposals the chance they deserved.

  “I look forward to working with you, Unt,” were Pello’s parting words. Chairman Kelly would be the last Councillor Unt was to meet which left just one person in between. It had been there in Unt’s mind with every introduction, probably because they all kept reassuring him. Lasper’s tall, pointed figure had been looming ever-closer on the horizon, the reach of his shadow deepening as their confrontation grew closer.

  “I’m sorry to do this to you, buddy,” said Pearson, “But it’s gotta be done. Think of it like when you pull a bandage off: one quick rip of pain and it’s over.”

  “It’s fine,” said Unt, trying to stay in the mental place he’d made for himself. He stood before the door, breathed and knocked.

  There was no answer, Uncertain, Unt looked at Pearson. Should he knock again?

  “Someone’s playing games,” said Pearson. Not waiting to make a second attempt, he turned the handle, pushed the door narrowly open and slipped through. Unt followed, feeling like a thief passing through an unlocked window.

  “Councillor Lasper?” Pearson kept his voice respectful. The layout of Lasper’s office was like Brooker’s. There was no desk for the Councillor in the room but he was there, hovering over an Acolyte as though reviewing some point of business.

  Half-moon glasses made his eyes more pinched than usual as he regarded Pearson, then Unt, with clear distaste. “Mr Pearson, it is customary to knock and wait for an invitation before entering a Councillor’s chambers.”

  Pearson didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, but I did, sir. Twice, sir.”

  Lasper frowned at the lie but couldn’t argue it without admitting he’d heard the knock in the first place. “Well,” he said, “it must have been done quietly because we didn’t hear you.”

  He looked at his apprentices as though commanding agreement. The room was so deadly quiet that the emptiness told the lie.

  “I’m very sorry, I expect you were too busy to hear,” Pearson spoke loudly as though he thought Lasper was deaf. He weighed it just right so Lasper could get the implication but couldn’t challenge him without bringing attention to it. Pearson’s look of bland innocence never slipped, so how could Lasper argue? He’d apologised, albeit in a back-hand fashion and Lasper looked like he was wrestling with how to counter Unt’s friend. Finally, he seemed to give up the effort as not worth it.

  He fixed Unt with a dark look, “So, you’ve brought me our new Novice.” The word “Novice” was a snapping of his jaws.

  “I have,” said Pearson.

  “Well, I’m sure it must be a very daunting experience for him; all these people in such a strange place: one where he never expected to be.” “Expected” was another stab of the fangs.

  “Everyone’s been very helpful,” Unt spoke. He didn’t want to speak. He wanted to run and hide but he knew if he didn’t stand up to Lasper now, he’d be cowering from him forever.

  Lasper’s scowl deepened like a wince of pain. “I hope so. It must be difficult for one more used to tilling fields.”

  “Unt’s too smart to be a farmer,” Pearson defended him.

  “Yes,” Lasper rasped the word, “it seems he has been a very great thinker.”

  “Councillor Brooker and I are delighted to have him,” said Pearson.

  “Oh, I’m certain Councillor Brooker will make him most comfortable. I’m afraid I might give you a rougher ride, Unt. You can attest to that, can’t you Pearson?”

  Whatever the implied history, Pearson didn’t waver, “It’s fair to say you’ve an eye for the little things, sir. Like you say, you’re not a man to worry about.”

  Lasper, who had said nothing of the sort, blinked. Pearson had used a compliment to neatly box him in again.

  “Well then, Unt,” he spoke at last, “What is it you wish to know?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You came here to find things out. As a boy well-suited to this job you must be burning with questions. What would you like explained to you?”

  Unt floundered and Pearson stepped in. “Councillor Brooker just wanted Unt to meet everyone and get a little taste of what they do.”

  “I’m sure Mr Brooker does,” said Lasper, “But I’m equally sure an intelligent lad like Unt has questions of his own, don’t you Unt?”

  “Er, nothing specific,” Unt managed.

  Lasper cocked an eyebrow. “Really? A shame. There is so much that I would like to teach you.”

  “I’m sure I’ll have questions later,” said Unt.

  “I’m sure you will,” said Lasper, “And there will plenty of time for us to discuss those questions when you’re under my wing.” There was a hint of blue poison in his wintry smile.

  “True enough,” said Pearson, “And I think we’ve wasted enough of your time.”

  “Oh, no,” said Lasper, “I have all the time in the world for Unt. Well, goodbye for now.”

  * * * *

  When they got out a minute later, Unt could feel sweat like a sheet down his back.

  “Well, I reckon that was a respectful draw,” said Pearson.

  “You think?” said Unt.

  “Definitely. You were in a new place, on his turf and you avoided him wiping the floor with you.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “Hey, I’d have done more if I could. He loathes you well enough but he’s got plenty of hatred left for the rest of us. The way Lasper acts when he dislikes a man, there’s no room for hatred to make anything worse.”

  “How do you cope?”

  “What you just saw: match him with amiability. The nicer you are, the madder you make him and the beauty is, he can’t exactly complain about it.”

  At last they were at the final door. It lay at the back of the great building, behind the antechambers of the hall. They found Kelly all alon
e. His apprentices were on errands and Kelly was poring over reams of lists.

  “Unt,” he greeted them and waved them into seats. “How are you finding things?”

  “Fine,” said Unt.

  Kelly smiled. “The eloquence of youth. So you’ve been given an overview?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which leaves only the function of Chairman. The important thing you must remember is that ‘Chairman’ doesn’t mean ‘Leader’, though people tend to use both terms. The Chairman has a ceremonial role but his most important function is one of mediation.”

  Unt nodded.

  “The Chairman must be as indifferent as the dice. He is responsible for all other Councillors and the entire Order. When it comes to work, the Councillors and Acolytes are all your superiors but if you have any personal issues, you come to me. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” said Kelly, rising. He took Unt’s hand and shook it, “Then I wish you the warmest welcome.”

  * * * *

  “That was short and sweet,” said Pearson as they wandered into the main hall, “It’s not like Kelly to miss an opportunity to blow air.”

  “It was short,” Unt agreed.

  “And now that’s over,” said Pearson, “it’s time to show you the perks of the job.”

  “Perks?”

  “Twenty one Councillors. Seven women. None young. It’s got to be balanced somewhere, hasn’t it? Unt, I’m taking you to the Hall of Clerks.”

  It was now that Unt realised they weren’t taking the stairs back to Brooker’s chambers. They were leaving the building. “The Clerks?” he asked.

  “Unt, I’m about to show you the best thing about being in this Order,” Pearson was grinning now. “As a Novice, your main job’s going to be running around, fetching information for the guys above you. And where do we get that information? Not your brother Councillors: they’re as lost as we are. It’s the Clerks who keep all the records and it’s them you’ll be seeing often.”