"Well, for crying out loud!" Frank burst out. "What d'you think of that, Jim?"
Jim stared at it darkly. "I think that today is the sixth of Ceres."
"Yeah, but what's the idea? He must think that this is a school of correction." Frank turned to one of the older students, who had, until now, been monitor of their corridor. "Anderson, what do you think about it? Can he do that?"
"I don't know. I really don't know. It seems to me that our rooms and so forth are our private business."
"What do you intend to do about it?"
"Me?" The young man thought a while before replying, "I've got just one more semester to my degree, then I'm out of here. I think I'll just sit tight, keep my mouth shut, and sweat it out."
"Huh? That's easy enough for you to say but I've got twelve semesters staring me in the face. What am I? A criminal?"
"That's your problem, fellow." The older student left.
One of the boys in the crowd seemed undisturbed by the notice. He was Herbert Beecher, son of the Company's Resident Agent General and a newcomer both to Mars and to the school. One of the other boys noticed his smirk. "What are you looking smug about, tourist?" he demanded. "Did you know about this ahead of time?"
"Certainly I did."
"I'll bet you thought it up."
"No, but my old man says you guys have been getting away with it for a long time. My old man says that Stoobie was too soft to put any discipline into this school. My old man says that-"
"Nobody cares what your old man says. Beat it!"
"You better not talk about my old man that way. I'll-"
"Beat it before I clip you one!"
Young Beecher eyed his antagonist-a red-headed lad named Kelly-and decided that he meant it. He faded out of sight.
"He can afford to grin," Kelly said bitterly, "he lives in his old man's quarters. This thing only gets at those of us who have to live in the school. It's rank discrimination, that's what it is!" About a third of boys were day students, mostly sons of Company employees who were stationed at Syrtis Minor. Another third were migratory colonials and the balance were the children of terrestrials at the outlying stations, especially those employed on the atmosphere project. Most of these last were Bolivians and Tibetans, plus a few Eskimos. Kelly turned to one of them. "How about it, Chen? Are we going to put up with this?"
The Asiatic's broad face showed no expression. "It is not worth getting excited about."
"Huh? You mean you won't stand up for your rights?"
"These things pass."
Jim and Frank went back to their room but continued to discuss it. "Frank," asked Jim, "what's behind this? Do you suppose they're pulling the same stunt over in the girls' school?"
"I could call up Dolores Montez and find out."
"Mmm... don't bother. I don't suppose it matters. The question is: what are we going to do about it?"
"What can we do about it?"
"I don't know. I wish I could ask Dad about this. He always told me to stand up for my rights... but maybe he would say that this is just something I should expect. I don't know."
"Look," suggested Frank, "why don't we ask our fathers?"
"You mean call 'em up tonight? Is there relay tonight?"
"No, don't call 'em up; that costs too much. We'll wait till our folks come through here at migration; that's not so very long now. If we're going to make a fuss, we've got to have our folks here to back us up, or we won't get any place with it. Meantime, we sit tight and do what he asks us. It may not amount to anything."
"Now you're talking sense." Jim stood up. "I suppose we might as well try to get this dump tidied up."
"Okay. Say, Jim, I just thought of something. Isn't the chairman of the Company named Howe?"
"John W. Howe," agreed Jim. "What about it?"
"Well, the head is named Howe, too."
"Oh." Jim shook his head. "Doesn't mean anything. Howe is a very common name."
"I'll bet it does mean something. Doc MacRae says you have to be somebody's cousin to get any of the juicy Company appointments. Doc says that the Company setup is just one big happy family, playing-you-tickle-me-and-I'U-kiss-you and that the idea that it is a non-profit corporation is the biggest joke since women were invented."
"Hmm... Well, I wouldn't know. Where shall I put this junk?"
Slips were distributed at breakfast the next morning giving what was described as "Official Arrangement of Rooms for Inspection"; the job the boys had done the night before had to be done over. Since Headmaster Howe's instructions failed to consider the possibility that two boys might be living in a one-boy room the rearranging was not easy; they were not ready by ten o'clock. However it was nearly two hours later that the Headmaster got around to their cubicle.
He poked his head inside, seemed about to leave, then came inside. He pointed to their outdoors suits, hanging on hooks by the clothes locker. "Why haven't you removed those barbaric decorations from your masks?"
The boys looked startled; Howe went on, "Haven't you looked at the bulletin board this morning?"
"Er-no, sir."
"Do so. You are responsible for anything posted on the bulletin board." He shouted toward the door. "Orderly!" One of the older students appeared in the doorway. "Yes, sir."
"Weekend privileges suspended for these two pending satisfaction of inspection requirements. Five demerits each." Howe looked around. "This room is unbelievably cluttered and untidy. Why didn't you follow the prescribed diagram?"
Jim stuttered, tongue-tied by the evident unfaimess of the question. Finally he got out, "This is supposed to be a single
room. We did the best we could." "Don't resort to excuses. If you don't have room to store things neatly, get rid of the excess baggage." For the first time his eye lit on Willis, who, at the sight of strangers, had retreated to a comer and hauled in all out-rigging. Howe pointed at him. "Athletic equipment must be stored on tops of lockers or left in the gymnasium. It must not be thrown in comers."
Jim started to answer; Frank kicked him in a shin. Howe went on lecturing as he moved toward the door. "I realize that you young people have been brought up away from civilization and have not had the benefits of polite society, but I shall do my best to remedy that. I intend that this school shall, above all other things, turn out civilized young gentlemen." He paused at the door and added, "When you have cleaned up those masks, report to my office."
When Howe was out of earshot Jim said, "What did you kick me for?"
"You dumb idiot, he thought Willis was a ball."
"I know; I was just about to set him right."
Frank looked disgusted. "Don't you know enough to let well enough alone? You want to keep Willis, don't you? He would have whipped up some rule making him contraband."
"Oh, he couldn't do that!"
"The heck he couldn't! I'm beginning to see that Stoobie kept our pal Howe from exercising his full talents. Say, what did he mean: 'demerits'?"
"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good." Jim took down his respirator mask, looked at the gay tiger stripes. "You know, Frank, I don't think I want to become a 'civilized young gentleman'."
"You and me both!"
They decided to take a quick look at the bulletin board before they got into any more trouble, rather than fix the masks at once. They went to the entrance foyer and did so. On the board was pinned:
NOTICE TO STUDENTS
1. The practice of painting respirator masks with socalled identification patterns will cease. Masks will be plain and each student will letter his name neatly in letters one inch high across me chest and across the shoulders of his outdoors suit.
2. Students are required to wear shirts and shoes or slippers at all times and places except in their own rooms.