“Well, the whole setup—” began Feliz embarrassedly.
“Please. Let me finish,” said El Hoska, laying a hand on Feliz’s arm. "I don’t have a great many more years, and what will become of these people when I’m gone? There is some strange lack in us. What it is, I don’t know. I have contemplated our existence many years now and have never been able to pin down what troubles us. Our life here is ideal. All are free to express themselves in the best way possible. And nature’s bounty is inexhaustible. We should be thriving and growing. Instead, we wither and die. We should be happy, and instead we are confused and dissatisfied. Someone must find what I have failed to find, and save my people."
“Young man,” El Hoska looked into Feliz’s face with a sort of sad and wistful hope, "if such a one as you could find it in you to share my present burden and take over when I am gone, it might be the salvation of all.”
Feliz snorted in loud embarrassment.
“Well, think it over,” said El Hoska.
They came out into the square. Black-clad guards, carrying guns and shouting, began to converge on Feliz from all sides.
Chapter X
Feliz had time to invent a hasty excuse for El Hoska, and then he was marched at gunpoint to the controller’s apartment.
“Saboteur! Traitor!” shouted Taki Manoai, bouncing to his feet as Feliz entered, his eyes popping and the cords of his neck standing out. “I’ll deal with you personally! Out!” This last word was roared at the guards, who scrambled backward and escaped through the door. Feliz braced himself, for eventualities; but no sooner had the door slammed than Taki’s eyes retreated into their normal positions and the cords in his neck relaxed. He sagged limply, mopped his brow with an elaborately embroidered black handkerchief—black on black—and hastily produced a bottle and two glasses.
“Whew!” he breathed, filling the glasses, and handing one reproachfully to Feliz. "What got into you to run off like that? I thought you’d deserted me. Gone for good. Just walked off. What’s the trouble?”
“Trouble?” Feliz blinked at the controller.
“Just tell me. I’ll fix it. You’ve got me over a barrel. Name your price.”
“Ah—” began Feliz.
“Nobody has any initiative!” cried the other man, pounding his free fist helplessly on the table holding the bottle, which hopped and almost spilled. "They ’re like cattle. Obey orders—yes, fine. But I can’t issue all the orders! In the name of all that’s black, there’s a limit to what human flesh and blood can accomplish in one twenty-four-hour period. Look around you . . . ” He gave a bitter laugh and gulped at his glass.
Feliz looked. He saw nothing but the same overstuffed apartment he had seen before.
“Looks like a soft life, doesn’t it?” said the controller, throwing himself down in a chair. “Only it just so happens that about sixty crises a day go with it. Oh, I tell you, being controller is a man-killing job. It isn’t the large decisions that get me down, it’s the little, nit-picking ones—what you might call inter-departmental level decisions.”
“Departments?” said Feliz, surprised.
“Hah! You didn’t think a community like this one could be run without organization, did you? Certainly—a department for every soul and every soul in its proper department, as the saying goes. Oh, there’s nothing wrong with the setup. The organization as a whole should tick like a Swiss watch.” Taki scowled at his now nearly empty glass. “But the goof-ups, the buck-passing—I tell you, it’s inconceivable until you’ve lived with it as long as I have. Why can’t a man get responsible subordinates, I ask you? Why?”
“Don’t know,” said Feliz.
“I mean, is that asking too much?”
“Well—”
“Of course it isn’t,” said Taki, pouring himself another glassful. Feliz tasted his cautiously. It was as he suspected—rotgut, a hundred and sixty proof. “Of course it isn’t. But what can you do? There’s no point in shooting them. A man can’t spend all his time breaking in new help. Hah!” said Taki, bitterly. “They think I can shoot people any time I get the whim. They don’t know the trouble it causes me. The delays, the paperwork, the shifts in work assignments. I have to think of these things; they don’t. I’ve got the responsibility. I’ve got to produce.”
“Um,” said Feliz, as the controller looked at him.
“I was talking to a certain individual down at the annual Controllers’ Summit Meeting, at defense tax payment time, in New Paris. I said to him—you aren’t drinking!”
Feliz took a cautious sip from his glass and almost dehydrated the upper half of his gullet.
“Here, let me freshen that up a bit for you. Ooops!” Taki spilled some on the black carpet. “That’s all right. Plenty more where that came from. I said to him—no. He said to me, ‘I don’t know how I can make it another year, the way things are going.’ And I said to him, ‘Herman, you think you’ve got it tough. I’d like you to put in one day, just one day, in my office back there in Shangri-La."
“Shangri-La?” said Feliz, startled.
" 'Just one day, Herman,’ I said. ‘Believe me, you’d take the first wagon back to your place and spend the next month counting your blessings.’ Which brings me,” said Taki, pointing a somewhat unsteady finger at Feliz, “to what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” said Feliz.
“That’s right,” said the controller. “Now, you argued with me the moment you saw me. Well, I admit it took a little time to sink in—but when I had time to mull it over, I realized how wonderful that was. You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?" He leaned forward and tapped Feliz on one baggy knee. “Think what it would be like if two men could sit down and just talk right out about a problem from two different points of view. Why, they could probably see the mistakes each other was making, and come right out and tell each other about them. There wouldn’t be a chance for mistakes or errors then!”
Feliz blinked.
“Speechless, eh?” said Taki, freshening up his own drink a bit in turn and hardly spilling a drop. “Thought you’d be. But that’s progress, boy, that’s progress! Why this sort of two-man talk-it-over may turn out to be the greatest invention since free fall. In fact, it will. I know it will.” He drank off half his drink as if it was soda pop. The man, thought Feliz, must have sent his esophagus out to be tanned and cured in early infancy. “So I’m about to offer you a job.”
“Hey!” snarled Feliz.
“Now don’t start running before the shooting order’s signed, went on the controller complacently. “I’m thinking of creating an entirely new position—co-controller.”
“Co-controller, you said?”
“With all rights, privileges, and duties pertaining. You see, the way it works out, I’ve got say, ten hours of work a day to do.”
“That much?”
“Oh, it doesn’t actually run like that,” said Taki hurriedly. “Four, five hours a day—that’s more like it. And some days nothing. Just sign a few orders, give a few verbal orders and the rest of the day’s all yours.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Absolutely. And look how much better, even, it would be with you as co-controller. See, if there’s ten hours’ work, with two of us on it, it’d only take five hours apiece.”
“Well, that divides out correctly, I guess,” said Feliz. “A five hour day—two and a half hours apiece.”
“Imagine that! ”
“And the days there was nothing . . .” The controller snapped his fingers. “Two into nothing goes twice.”
Feliz snapped his fingers too.
“You know,” said Taki wistfully, nursing his glass with both hands held between his knees, and staring off into a distant comer of the room, “with two of us, we could even perhaps go fishing sometimes.”
“You fish?” said Feliz.
“Well not exactly.” The controller coughed. “But I’ve read up on it and seen pictures of it. You take something to drink
and some sandwiches." He looked at Feliz uncertainly.
“That’s right,” said Feliz.
"And you walk up into some hills until you find some trout streaming.”
“Trout stream—a creek or river.”
“Oh. Until you find a creek or river in which trout are streaming. Then I’d say, ‘This looks like a good spot. I think I'll try a Bonnie Prince Charlie. That’s the name of a fly.”
“I know.”
“A trout fisherman has pet names for all his flies. I imagine because it’s so much trouble catching them and tying them onto those little hooks. Personally, I don’t have time to tie my own. I have a man who does it for me. He’s better at it now than he was at first.”
“Practice tells,” Feliz said.
“At any rate—and then you’d answer, ‘Well, I guess I’ll try downstream by the falls, myself.’”
“Or upstream,” said Feliz. Taki Manoai frowned.
“Downstream, isn’t it?” Taki said. "All the books I have specify downstream.”
“Sometimes the falls aren’t downstream. They’re upstream instead.”
“That’s so, I suppose.”
“Sometimes there aren’t even any falls.”
“No,” said Taki decisively. “No, I won’t go for that. There must be falls. If there’s trout, there’s falls. I mean, that’s it!”
“All right,” said Feliz. The controllers’ home-mash hundred and sixty proof was beginning to get to him after all. He felt rather lightheaded and relaxed, and he made no objection as he saw Taki, filling up both glasses again, as he had several times previously. It was amazing how much better the stuff tasted as they got toward the bottom of the bottle. It was older down there, no doubt.
“All right,” repeated Feliz. “I’ll give you the falls.”
"That’s better,: said Taki, sitting back with his full glass. “I ought to insist on falls top and bottom, above and below me; but I’m not that kind of a guy.”
“Okay. Okay, it’s settled,” said Feliz. “Falls below.”
“Right. And you go off, and I start fishing—whipping the water with my line. There’s a swirl in the water near it—but a trout gets there first. Suddenly a big brown strikes. My rod bends double . . . And so forth,” said Taki. “Li’l snapper?”
“Don’t mind,” said Feliz, “if I do. Then what?” He had become fascinated with the controller’s fishing expedition. It was like a house of mirrors in which no one knew what kind of reflection was about to turn up around the next comer.
“Well," said Taki, putting the bottle back. “After several hours you come back, and I say, ‘What kind of luck did you have down by the dam?"
“Falls.”
“Excuse me. Falls . . down by the falls?’ You shake your head sadly. ‘And you?’ you ask me. I say nothing.”
“Nothing?” repeated Feliz blinking.
"Of course not. I merely take the creel off my fishing rod, open it, and display six beautiful fish. All lunkers.”
“Lunkers?”
“Yes. Big browns are for sport fishing. But you only keep lunkers, to be fried for breakfast back at the inn.” Taki frowned. “Of course, swirls are only a sort of rough fish. Nobody takes those.”
“Sounds like fun,” said Feliz a little fuzzily.
“Yes,” replied Taki dreamily. “I can taste those fried lunkers now. ” He reached for the bottle, found it empty; and before Feliz’s astonished eyes performed the superhuman feat of becoming suddenly completely sober in appearance and actions. The controller sat up sharply. “What is your answer?” he snapped.
“Answer?” Feliz sat up himself. “Oh,” he said. “Answer.”
“Don’t be hasty,” said Taki. “You might bear in mind I can’t afford to have you running around loose. I don’t want to influence your decision, of course, but I would almost certainly have to shoot you if you turned down my offer. Those not with me are against me. Naturally.”
. “Oh, I can see that all right, ” said Feliz, valiantly struggling to roll back the fogs of alcohol that were threatening to obscure his thinking. If Taki could do it, he thought, why couldn’t he? Of course, Taki seemed more used to the white lightning they had both been drinking. “Gimme little time.”
"Very well," said Taki. “You might bear in mind that it’s sort of a duty, too.” He scowled ferociously. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. But somebody has to take care of these pea-brained idiots. They need both of us.”
“Think it over.”
“You do that," said Taki. "Let’s say you’ve got until that order-giving apparatus you’re building is finished. By the way, when will it be finished?”
“We’ll be flooding the pool with water tonight,” said Feliz. “I should be able to turn it on early tomorrow.”
“Excellent," said Taki. “I'll hold a full scale assembly in the square tomorrow at noon, then, for the ceremony of turning it on. That reminds me, I’ve been wanting to ask you,” he added, standing up, “what you need all that water for?”
Feliz stood also. “Damping field. Protection,” he heard himself explaining, “It’s the pomrantz. Very dangerous.”
"Oh? The pomrantz?" said Taki. "Well, yes. Of course. I had no idea you had something like a—one of those in it. You’re sure there’s an adequate safety control?”
“Certainly. Calculated carefully.”
“Perhaps I’d better check your calculations.”
“Very well. If you prefer. Rather hard to follow though—all in calculus of nonexistent integers.”
“That should not bother me. The calclass of nonexistent tiggers was always one of my strong points.”
“Very well. Have them for you right after ceremony.”
“Very good. I will check them over carefully.”
“Good-bye,” said Feliz. heading for the door and only blundering into one small table on the way. “Back to the old rockpile.”
"Carry on. You might tell them to send up another bottle on your way out. I feel a cold coming on. My head’s rather stuffy.”
“Right,” said Feliz. He made it out the door, closed the door behind him, and almost fell over someone outside.
“Oh, Upi,” said Feliz, picking the little man up and dusting him off carefully. “ ’Notherbottle of prune juice for milord.”
“Sir?” said Upi, staring after him. But Feliz was already tacking off down the hallway, putting one foot carefully in front of the other.
Chapter XI
One good—or bad, depending on your point of view—thing about an overactive metabolism is that, if it ensures you get drunk extremely quickly, it permits you to sober up with almost equal quickness. Feliz had thrown off the effects of the controller’s liquor by mid-afternoon, although he had an uncomfortable hangover until about sunset.
That night he stayed in a one-room apartment in the same building that housed Taki. The door to Feliz’s apartment, however, was locked. And a guard stood on duty outside it. Nevertheless, a few hours after he had lain down, there was a clicking sound and the door swung inward. By the dim illumination of the moonlight streaming through the room’s single uncurtained window, Feliz caught a glimpse of a small body which slipped through the opening of the door. The door closed and clicked again. Feliz sat up and the bed creaked alarmingly beneath him.
“It’s just me,” said a small, apologetic voice in the darkness.
“Kai!” said Feliz. He fumbled around for the flint and steel they had left him to light the candle by his bedside.
“Yes,” said Kai, from the darkness. “Don’t put on a light. I look awful. I’ve been crawling in all sorts of dirty, dusty places, and I haven’t had a chance to get clean clothes since I first met you.”
She had been feeling her way toward him in the darkness as she talked and now her outstretched fingers suddenly came into contact with Feliz’s bare arm! She gave a sudden, stiffled shriek and started to jerk away, but Feliz caught her wrist.
“Let me go!” she pl
eaded in a terrified whisper. “You haven’t got any clothes on!”
“Certainly. Got a T-shirt!” muttered Feliz annoyedly. “Feel.” He shoved her captive hand against the cloth covering his chest and felt her go limp.
“Oh! ” she said, sitting down on the bed. “I was so scaredthere for a minute.”
"Where’ve you been?” said Feliz. “Had enough to eat?”
"I’ve been back in the stacks.”
“Stacks?” He waited for her to explain. She did not. He tried again. “Steaks?”
"Stacks," she said. “At the library. You know, where the library keeps its books and microfilms and everything: The machinery’s supposed to deliver the films of books you want, but it doesn’t work of course. I had to crawl back in the stacks with candles and find the spools right in their racks.”
“What were you—”
“Oh, Feliz!” she broke in, without letting him finish. “You were right. They aren’t hallucinations. They’re just as real as we are.” Her voice shook. “They’re even some of them d-distant relatives!”
Feliz attempted to pat her unseen back consolingly, and did fairly well. She responded by creeping into his arms like a lost puppy.
"Hold me," she said. Feliz held her. It was a not unpleasant occupation.
After a while she stopped shivering and began to talk again.
“After I left you,” she sniffed into Feliz’s T-shirt front, "I just ran and hid for a long time. I wanted to get away from everything. From my people, from the hallucinations, but mostly from you. I didn’t care if I lived or died.T just wanted to find a hole to crawl into, and crawl into it, and never come out again.”
“Ah well . . . ” said Feliz, clearing his throat gruffly in the darkness.
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