A brief silence, then a Stand-in frowned thoughtfully. "Precisely." Our semantics has progressed. "It's our institutions that have evolved, John." "True enough," the President agreed. "But as they changed, most of them
kept their own names. It used to be
rabble-chosen, as our ceremonies imply. He paused. "Still, it's good to keep the old
names. "And if you believe it, you're a
fool." His voice went sardonic. "Sorry, John. "No, my power is of the rabble," he confessed, "and I am their friend." He turned to look at them and laugh. For all your securities, you
are still stooges. Of the rabble. Rabble cannot. They rule you through me, and I rule you through them. The window went
black. It lent a certain air of security. There was still "communism",
but the word's meaning had apparently changed. * * * * *
The Hell Wall--which was really only a globe-encircling belt of
booby-trapped land and ocean, guarded from both sides--had its political
advantages, of course. He had to find out. he barked angrily. A man walked into the picture and sat down, facing John Smith XVI. He tried to relax. The room was hushed. The Red was going to draw him out, apparently. Very
well, he would be frank--for a time. The fellow was blunt. "Not at the present
time, Peoplesfriend. "The Solomon solution!... ha ha!... * * * * *
John Smith sat stiffly waiting. Diplomacy was dead, and he had made a
mistake in trying to be polite. "Suits me. A brief silence. Smith wondered. Certainly bluff. "Not at all. The Asian leader was
too much at his ease. Our system has changed. Obviously, such conditions cannot endure. They did not. There was strong reaction and revolution within the
framework of the old system. "Not at all. "Yes, John." Join the Secondaries." "Move, Subversive!" * * * * *
The Red was jeering at him quietly. * * * * *
The Red nodded. "Greetings, human. I doubted that you would." The Asian stared at him sharply. The Asian chuckled but said
nothing. "You
may regret it. They knew you were in here alone. When we come out, they might compare--"
He cut the man off with a curt gesture. "No time. "He knows more about
us than he should. Antarctic's open, as he pointed out." "What can we do about it, John?" "Assemble Congress. It's the only answer. They were always good
at purging themselves. He paused, the
tragedy mask gaping at them. * * * * *
When he had outlined the propaganda and string-pulling plans for them,
he turned to the other matter--the Red leader's boast of ability to
conquer the West. gasped an
elderly Stand-in. the leader snapped. "Just a minute," he grunted. "Number Six." "Yes, John?" Six inspected it curiously, then nodded. Trade cloaks with me." "Why, if--" Six stopped. His face lost color. "But the others--might
have--"
"Precisely." bellowed the crier. But now he vaguely regretted it. * * * * *
The tenure of office was still four years, and he could not help feeling
that if he had maintained the intercontinental silence, he would not
have had to worry about the spy-matter. There was still a Senate and a House, the former acting chiefly as an
investigating body, the latter serving a legislative function in
accordance with the rabble-code, which no longer applied to the
Executive, being chiefly concerned with matters of rabble morals and
police-functions. None was needed. * * * * *
John Smith watched the proceedings with deep satisfaction. Their records had been impeccable. I do not, of course, expect you
to be trustworthy. "The accusation is too ridiculous to deny," Smith lied. * * * * *
Smith felt that he had won a little, and lost a little too. "At our last meeting," said the Asian, "I suggested a meeting between
ourselves. Smith snapped. "That is out of the question. "And
talk about the agenda for such a meeting. "Not necessarily, since our budget is already rather low. Smith waited for a flat "no" to the suggestion. The Asian leader
apparently knew a great deal more about the West's armaments than Smith
knew about the East. It was all too easy. Ivan frowned. * * * * *
The intelligence service analysis of his latest conversation with Ivan
gave him something to think about later however. But control devices were not weapons in themselves. Their records were clean. They were already on the
reservation. One
a known suicide, but the body's still in the river." "That's right, John. All right, recheck everybody." "I mean everybody connected with new projects, the most important
installations. This might be a weapon for us." There was apparently going to be a deadlock, and John was somehow not
sorry. This is my
last proposal." * * * * *
They stared at each other coldly. John
chuckled. he
gasped. "Sorry, peace-effort." "No. At least I hope not. "This is a very dangerous business, John." "No, Sir. There were no protests. The Asian grunted. They glared at each other. * * * * *
It was Antarctic Summer. It
pushed a helicopter up into view. It soared, and travelled inland. "Over there, Sir. Only inside the building itself." "No, sir. "Yes, Sir. John looked around. "Greetings, human." * * * * *
The dull voice called it from the far end of the gloomy hall where Ivan
Ivanovitch IX sat facing him, flanked by a pair of aides, at a long,
plain table. Curt bows
were exchanged, but no handshakes. Smith
asked coolly. "Give me a sheet of paper." The deputy fumbled in a thin briefcase, shook his head and muttered. John stared,
and felt the blood leaving his face. I fail to see the humor
in--"
"There is no humor." "Have your man
dispose of that weapon. "Search
them." "Stay back," Smith droned. The deputy hesitated. John smiled. "Stay back, or you will find out too quickly." You would not set them off. However--Jacob, let them keep their weapons. This will be over shortly." They glared at each other for a moment. "There is no conference?" "There is no conference." "Your men are now disarmed," said the Asian. * * * * *
The Asian shrugged. "No system of infiltration or
subversion could--"
"Your people were not subverted, Smith. They were merely replaced by
ours. They were not the original men." "I am
going to walk out. And you are going with me. I have no control
over the detonator, for it is not a suicide device. I am going out, and you
are going with me." There was a sour mockery about it that made Smith pause. He nodded
slowly. Our
plans included that possibility, but it is unfortunate." And there is
no harm in telling you now, I suppose." "For self-piloting weapons, I suppose?" asked the Stand-in. "For self-piloting weapons." There was no blood. Bones of bakelite. Check and checkmate. But always there was a way out. Never a final move. Life eternal and with life, the eternal plotting and scheming.