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Authors: Mankind on the Run

Gordon R. Dickson (14 page)

BOOK: Gordon R. Dickson
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"I've
carted her all over the world with me. Trade her in, says the home office.
Trade, hell, I told them.
I
got
nothing else that belongs to me, on the go all the time. Hortense, she's mine.
I had her in India and up and down the Andes in South A. Up and down the Sierra
Madres, too. That wasn't bad. It's timber that stops you. Trees so thick you
can't see through-going to Duluth, you said?"

"What? Oh-. Yes. . .
." said Kil.

"Thought
that's what you said. My folks come from Duluth, originally. Well, not Duluth
proper—around
Two
Harbors. Of course I don't remember
it myself, but I recall my grandfather telling me about how the lampreys came
in there and spoiled the fishing, just about cleaned out all the lake trout.
Ever see a picture of a lamprey? The way he described them—"

Kil
leaned back against the foam cushions of the bug, letting the words
flow
around him and nodding whenever it seemed expedient.
His mind felt exhausted, drained of feeling. He tried to force it to
concentrate on his situation, to think about the future, but the effort .was
beyond him at the moment. He gave up, rocking with the cab of the bug and
half-listening.

"—world going to hell.
Just another old crank talking, you'll probably say. But I know. I'm
off away from people four—six months at a stretch.
Always on
the move.
Wouldn't make any difference to me if I had a Key or not. Love
the work, be doing it anyway. And
its
just like
anything where you don't see someone for a long time. You notice the differences.
And I've seen them."

"Seen them?"
murmured Kil.

"Seen
them—hell, yes." I've seen them! Jittery, wall-stupid, jumping from city
to city as if their tails were on fire—hey boy, you're going to sleep, sit
up—and not knowing Sunday from shaving lotion about anything you can't get by
pressing a button. Last time I was down below Chilpancingo, I saw an orchid, a
cattleya—one
of the common ones, but I took a fancy to it
and sealed it in some transparent plastic. Happened a month or so later I was
in Mexico—Mexico City, that is—I brought Hortense into a parts place to get the
floater rollers degummed. Man in charge happened to see the
cattleya.
Regular native type, too. 'Migawd,' he said—
or something to that effect—'What've you got here?
Something
valuable?
Because if it is, you better let me lock it
up while the rollers are being cleaned.'
Something valuable! Lock it up!
His great-grandmother would have known what it was, all right." ^

"Yes." said Kil.

"Everybody walking around like they were in lockstep.
Sure, Files, they say, and the Police. Don't
you think it,
boy.
You know with four billion people
in the world, we've got more open country than we had fifty years ago? People've
hypnoed themselves into believing the world's all
city
.
Free Transportation. They can go anywhere on Earth they want. And where do they
go?
From hotel Bungo in Bongo-Bongo to hotel Zenobia in
Zanesville.
And they say—
'hoiv
nice,'
they say,
'
This
little
suite
has
just
the
same
number
of
windows that
we
had
in
the
one
in
Bongo-Bongo.
My,
what
a
nice permanent
feeling
it
does
give
one.'
" The
old man's voice, which had soared into a
savagely mincing falsetto, dropped back to his ordinary tones again.
"Hell, people used to save all their lives just so they could get out and
see what the rest of the world looked like. And these—" words failed him.

"No good—no use—"
muttered Kil, wearily. "Give up."

"Did
I say that?" the old man caught him up sharply. "No such thing! While
there's life, there's hope; and don't you forget that. Just that people don't
budge until they have to, that's all. Most of them just put off doing something
about a bad situation until the last moment. What it needs is someone to come
along and yank them out of their plastic and concrete. Take them out and rub
their noses in the dirt and open their eyes to the good green earth again.
Hell, boy, we still got sunsets and thundershowers. And the Grand Canyon, the
Amazon, the Sahara, Mount Everest and the Bering Straits. They haven't torn
down the Acropolis or the Pyramids. Just nobody goes to look at them for the
same reason that people never stepped across town to look at Grant's Tomb. They
could go there anytime they wanted to, so they never got around to it. If I had
my way—here's Duluth coming up now, boy. Where do you want me to drop you
off?"

Kil roused himself with an effort.

"Oh—the
terminal," he said, thickly. "I'll have to reset my Key."

"Whatever you want.
Going on up the lake, myself," said the old man. He rolled the bug
across the wide expanse of the outcity traffic circle and parking area; and let
Kil off at curbside before the doors of the terminal. "Good luck,
boy."

"Why—thanks," said Kil.
"The same to you."

The botanician laughed.

"I got it already.
So
long."

He
geared the bug and rolled off. Kil turned and entered the door behind him.

A
mag ship had just unloaded at the terminal and there were lines in front of all
the check stations. Kil stood and waited his turn until he could thrust his Key
into a check box. Finally it came, there was an almost soundless click and the
figures 182 days, 9 hours, popped into sight on the dial of the Key, that being
his authorized six month period minus the five days and fifteen hours he had
already spent in Du-luth during the previous six months. He was turning away
from the check box when he felt a touch on his shoulder. He turned to confront
a World Policeman in working uniform.

"Kil Bruner?'" asked the Policeman.
"That's right," answered Kil.

"I've
got an order for an emergency request stability check on you. Will you come to
Headquarters, please?"

Kil
stared. The man's words rang in his ears without meaning-

"Request emergency check?" he
echoed. "Me?" "Yes, Mr. Bruner."

"But
I—" Kil scowled. "I haven't done anything to require an emergency
check."

"Sorry, sir, all I
know about is the order."

Bewildered,
Kil followed the Policeman out of the Terminal to a Police aircar. On the way,
he became conscious suddenly of glances here and there from people they were
passing. Possibly these same people would have stared at anybody they saw in
the company of a Policeman; but Kil felt all at once that the eyes of the world
were upon him and condemning him, sight unseen.

In the car he asked the Policeman.

"Have they been
looking for me long?"

"I
wouldn't know, sir," said the Policeman, gazing out the window.

The rest of the ride was a silent one.

The
aircar passed in through one of the gates and settled down finally before a
long, low building. Kil got out and the Policeman escorted him inside. Within,
the building was very like the Complaint Section he had been in previously,
except that there was a row of close cubicles facing him instead of open
booths. The Policeman led him down the row of cubicles until he came to one
with an open door.

"In
here," said the Policeman. "You face your Key into the cup in the
upper right hand corner of the coder panel."

Kil flushed angrily.

"I
know," he snapped. "I've taken my test every year since I was
six."

"Yes
sir," answered the Policeman, indifferently. Kil went into the cubicle,
shutting the door behind him.

He
sat down before the bank of keys and held his Key to the cup. Above the coder,
on the wall before him, the screen lit up as Files awoke to his presence in the
testing room.

"Kil
Bruner"
the words formed on the screen.
"You
have been
requested
to
come
here
for
an
emergency
stability
check. The
test
you
are
about
to
take
will
be
evaluated
by
the
circuits
designed
for
that
purpose.
As
soon
as
the
test
is
concluded,
a
recommendation
toill
be
made
both
on
this
screen and
on
the
monitor
screen
outside
if
any
adjustment
in
your Class
Designation
should
be
made.
It
will
then
be
up
to
the Police
to
act
or
not
on
the
recommendation
as
they
see
fit/'

Kil
paid little attention. He had read these words yearly for nineteen years.
Almost, he could have repeated them from memory, these and the words that
followed them.

Before
you
on
the
coder
are
Keys
for
yes
and
no
answers, multiple
choice
ansivers
tip
to
a
limit
of
six
choices;
and
an alphabet
keyboard
for
direct
coding.
If
you
wish
to
answer
a
question
in
your
own
words,
use
the
alphabet
keyboard.

BOOK: Gordon R. Dickson
2.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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