“You mean,” Tallon said drowsily, “that you’re hoboes.”
“That’s putting it crudely,” Ike replied in his thin nasal voice. “Have you any more of that delicious stale bread? Nature’s toast, I call it.”
“I don’t know.” Tallon’s back was hurting now and he longed for sleep. “How could I tell in the dark, anyway?”
Ike’s voice was mystified. “But, brother, we have our lumi-lamp on. Can’t you look in your bag? We’re hungry. Your new friends are hungry.”
“Sorry, new friend. I’m too tired to look, and if I wasn’t too tired it wouldn’t make any difference, because — ” Tallon made the effort — “I’m blind.” It was the first time he had ever announced it to anyone.
“I’m sorry.” Ike really sounded sorry. There was a long silence; then he said, “Can I ask you a question, brother?”
“What is it?”
“Those heavy gray glasses you’re wearing — why have blind men started wearing heavy gray glasses? What good are they when you have no eyes?”
Tallon lifted his head a few inches. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s the point of wearing — ”
“No!” Tallon broke in. “What did you mean when you said blind men have started wearing heavy gray glasses?”
“Well, brother, yours is the second pair I’ve seen this week. Ten miles or so north of here is a private estate owned by a very rich man who’s blind. Denver and I often climb the wall, because we both like fruit. The fruit trees there are overloaded, and it seems a shame not to relieve them of their burden. There are the dogs, of course, but during the day — ”
“The glasses,” Tallon interrupted. “What about the glasses?”
“That’s it, brother. We saw the blind man this week. He was walking in the orchards and was wearing glasses like yours. Now that I think of it, he was walking like a man who can see!”
Tallon felt a surge of excitement. “What’s his name?”
“I forget,” Ike replied. “I know he’s supposed to be related to the Moderator himself, and that he’s a mathematician or something. But I don’t remember his name.”
“His name,” Denver said eagerly, “is Carl Juste.”
“Why do you ask, brother?” Ike sniggered. “Did you think he might be a friend of yours?”
“Not exactly,” Tallon said coolly. “I’m more a friend of the family.”
thirteen
Ike’s price for acting as a guide was one hundred hours.
The figure shocked Tallon somewhat. In his two years on Emm Luther he had grown used to the radical “fiscal democracy” the government had imposed soon after it came to power in 2168. The original and purest form ordered that for every hour a man worked, regardless of his occupation, he would be paid a monetary unit called “one hour.” These were divided, like the Lutheran clock, into one hundred minutes; the smallest unit was the quarter — one-fourth of a minute, or twenty-five seconds.
When the uprising that had resulted in the ending of Earth’s mandate had died down, the Temporal Moderator had found it necessary to modify the system considerably. Complex factorization clauses had been added, allowing those who effectively increased their contribution to the economy by self-improvement to be paid more than one hour per hour. But the absolute top was a factor of three, which was why there were few large private corporations on Emm Luther — the incentive was limited, as the Moderator intended it to be.
To approach factor three, a man had to have the highest professional qualifications and use them in his job — yet here was a shiftless hobo named Ike demanding what Tallon conservatively estimated as factor ten.
“You know that’s immoral,” Tallon said, wondering if he had that much money. He had forgotten to count the roll of bills he had stolen from The Persian Cat.
“Not as immoral as it would have been had I taken the money while you were sleeping and disappeared with it.”
“Obviously you’ve checked that I have the money. As a matter of interest, how much is in my pack?”
Ike tried to sound embarrassed. “I made it about ninety hours.”
“Then how could I pay you a hundred?”
“Well — there’s the radio.”
Tallon laughed sharply. He supposed he was lucky at that. He was blind, and the wound across his shoulders stiffened his body with agony every time he moved. The four tramps could have rolled him during the night; in fact it was surprising they were prepared to do anything at all in return for his money.
“Why are you willing to help me? Do you know who I am?”
“All I really know about you, brother, is what I can tell from your accent,” Ike said. “You’re from Earth, and so are we. This was a good world till that bunch of Bible- waving hypocrites took it over and made it impossible for a man to get an honest day’s wage for an honest day’s work.”
“What was your work?”
“I had no work, brother. Health reasons. But it’s just as well, isn’t it? If I had been working I wouldn’t have got paid for it in good honest solars, would I? Denver here used to sell pieces of the True Cross… .”
“Till they closed down his production plant, I suppose,” Tallon said impatiently. “When can you get me to the Juste estate?”
“Well, we’ll have to hole up here for the rest of the day. We’ll get you through the fence after dark. After that it’s just a matter of walking. We can’t stroll along the boulevards, of course, but we’ll be there before dawn.”
Before dawn, Tallon thought; or, if he was unable to get his eyeset back from Carl Juste, before the final nightfall. He wondered if the man who had it was Helen Juste’s father or brother.
“All right,” he said. “You can take the money.”
“Thank you, brother. I already have.”
At Tallon’s request, Ike allowed him to make the overnight walk with the eyeset switched off to save his last glimmer of sight for whatever he would have to face when he reached the estate. Only Ike and Denver went with him, and each took one of his arms.
As his two companions guided him through a weed-hidden break in the perimeter fence and out to where the quiet avenues began again, Tallon wondered how their breed had survived the centuries without change. The continuous development of civilization seemed not to have touched them; they lived and died in a manner no different from that of vagrants in ancient times. If the human race went on for another million years, perhaps at the end of that time there would still be men like these.
“By the way,” Tallon asked, “what will you do with all that money?”
“Buy food, of course.” Ike sounded surprised.
“And when it’s finished? What then?”
“I’ll live.”
“Without working,” Tallon said. “Wouldn’t it be easier to take a job?”
“Of course it would be easier to take a job, brother, but I’m not going to go against my principles.”
“Principles!” Tallon laughed.
“Yes, principles. It’s bad enough not getting paid in good honest solars, but the crazy system makes it worse.”
“How? It seems like a reasonable idea to me.”
“I’m surprised at you, brother. Factorization itself is a good idea, but they apply it backward.”