“Mm?” It only took Sam’s elbow in his ribs to make Dar react to his new name. “Oh, yes! Yes…” He heaved himself to his feet with a sigh. “Yes, if we hurry, we can just make the two o’clock war. See you later, Cholly.” It was more of a threat than a promise.
5
Dar lifted a glass in a trembling hand and drank deeply. “I tell you, I don’t know if I can last it out.”
“What for?” Cholly twisted the empty out of his hand and replaced it with a full one. “There’s never a chance that he’d recognize yer.”
“Yeah, but I’m running out of things to show him.” Dar started to sip, then stared at the glass. “I just emptied this.”
“And he just refilled it.” Sam shook her head. “You are in bad shape.”
“Come, now!” Cholly cajoled. “A whole planetful of marvels, and you can’t find a week’s tour? Come, indeed! What’ve you shown him?”
“Well, let me see.” Dar started ticking them off on his fingers. “The Wall—all—all thirty miles of it. The Two-O’Clock War. A Wolman village. The Eight-O’Clock War. He had a conference with Shacklar. The Two-O’Clock war. The enlisted men’s recreation complex and organic market. The officers’ recreation complex and fixed market. The Eight-O’Clock War. Conference with Shacklar. The Two-O’Clock War. A Wolman trading session. A Wolman information-barter …”
“Adult school,” Cholly murmured.
“That, too… A Wolman workshop. The Eight-O’Clock War. Conference with Shacklar. The Two-O’Clock War. He likes wars.”
“I was beginning to get that impression,” Sam agreed.
“You still haven’t shown him the parade ground. Or the gaol.”
Dar shook his head. “Depressing.”
“Or the Little Theater. The Concert Hall.”
“Boring.”
“How do you know? Could be he likes amateurs. Then there’s the radio studio, the 3DT studio, the barracks …”
“All the high spots, huh?”
Cholly shrugged. “Nobody said you had to entertain the man—just to guide him. You wouldn’t want him to get a false impression of us, would you?”
“Yes,” Dar snapped. “Definitely.”
Cholly straightened up with a sigh. “Then ye’ve nought but yourself to blame if he’s hard to get along with.”
“That’s the strange part.” Dar’s brow knit. “He’s not.”
“ ‘Course he would be. You’d be, too, if … how’s that again?”
“He’s not,” Dar repeated. “He’s not tough to get along with at all. He’s been getting more and more pleasant every day. In fact, today he was a real nice guy. I’m amazed at how wrong my first impression of him was.”
“I’m amazed at how good a psychiatrist the General is,” Cholly grunted.
Something beeped in the back corner, and kept on beeping.
Sam looked up. “A holophone? Here?”
“Why not?” Dar smiled. “Radio waves don’t have to have plastrete buildings around them, you know.”
Cholly ambled back to the phone and pressed the “receive” button. “Cholly’s Hash House, Bar, an’ Natural Food Emporium… Oh, it’s yerself, General! … Who? … Oh, yes, he’s here! You want to … You don’t want to … You want to see him? Right now? Begging yer pardon, General, but—what’s he done? … Oh? Oh, I see. Yes, yes, right away … Same to you, General… Right.” He switched off and ambled back to Dar. “Well, well, my boy, seems you’ve attracted notice.”
Dar’s mouth went dry. “What’d I do now?”
“Nothin’, it seems, except maybe a good job. He says it’s not what you have done, but what you will do, if you follow me.”
“I don’t.”
“Neither do I. But that’s what he said, and if you’ve any hopes of our scheme working out, I think ye’d best get over there. Hop to it now, Dar! Lick-split!”
Dar hopped.
“Yes, I really must thank you,” Bhelabher agreed. “Seeing the way this colony’s been organized has been a revelation to me.”
“My thanks,” Shacklar murmured. “Still, it’s scarcely in the same category as changing wine into water.”
“It certainly seems not far less.” Bhelabher beamed at Dar with owlish enthusiasm. “Do you realize what this man has managed to induce here? Hope! Optimism! An atmosphere of opportunity! A growing, progressing society!”
“Well, yes, I had sort of realized something of the sort.” Dar wondered if he was missing something. “And it sure is darn near a miracle, compared to the ball-and-chain world this place was when I came.”
“Compared to Terra! To the Proxima Centauri Electorate! To any of the Central Worlds! Do you realize what a paradise this is?”
Dar stared. “You like outdoor plumbing?”
“I’ll take it any day over the spiritual septic tank the Central Worlds have become! We’ve become stratified there, young man, stratified! Do you know what that means?”
“Uh-h-h-h-h …” Dar rewound his memories to a conversation with Cholly, six years ago, about the nature of tyranny. “Yeah. It means you’re either a subject or a ruler, and there’s no way to change it.”
Bhelabher looked startled for a moment; then he nodded. “Well put, well put!” He turned to Shacklar. “Isn’t it amazing how the simpler way of stating something so often catches the essence of it?” He turned back to Dar. “But you’re quite right, young man, quite right—no one can move up. So the vast majority live out their lives in dull, repetitious desk jobs, with only 3DT, euphorics, and cabaret passes for pleasures.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Dar sighed. “When do I get a chance to be bored?”
“I’m sure any of our Terran slaves would be delighted to trade places with you if they really had the slightest inkling of what you have here. And our ‘fortunate few’ would be even more eager—they can have anything they want, but find nothing worth having. Still, they’re convinced there must be some job worth having—so they spend their lives in pursuit of some meaning in pleasure.”
“I’ll find it.” Dar raised a hand. “Won’t take me long, either.”
“I’m sure you would. The pleasures of the senses only seem to have meaning when they’re rare. So our poor privileged ones never can find the purpose they’re seeking—but they keep looking for it.”
Dar frowned. “Are you trying to tell me that the only real difference between the classes and the masses is that the classes’ desperation is noisy, and the masses’ desperation is quiet?”
“No, I’m trying to tell you that the only difference that matters is between them and yourself—or, more accurately, between Terra and Wolmar. Here, a mere private has as good a chance as the General of getting whatever pleasures are available—that is, if he earns his points and saves his credits.”
Dar nodded. “I do. And now that you mention it, we all do have pretty much the same, ah, forms of recreation …”
Shacklar nodded. “The advantage of having very few pleasures.”
“… and Cholly and the General, between them, keep opening up more upper-level jobs, such as …” Dar swallowed “… trading.”
“The advantage of an expanding economy.” Shacklar leaned back, locking his fingers across his chest. “Fortunately for us, the Wolmen had a very unsophisticated technology.”
“True, you found all the elements here when you came,” Bhelabher admitted. “But you also had the wisdom and ability to combine them!” Bhelabher’s smile saddened. “Such traits are rare. I, for example, lack both.”
“You’re wise to realize your limitations.” Shacklar picked up a data cube and rolled it between his fingers. “But I wonder—do you have as sure a grasp of your strengths?”
“Oh, I think that I do.” Bhelabher fairly beamed. “That cube you’re playing with, now—give me a million of them, and the tools of my trade, and I’ll set them up for you so that I can have any of their septillions of bits for you within thirty seconds of your asking for it.”
Dar developed a faraway look. “General, excuse me—we have the complete military personnel records on cube, don’t we?”