The doctor sipped. “It’s lemons and sugar we cannot obtain. One of the Chinese successor-republics flies tea over to us, and we’ve started to plant our own sugar beets. But the Izzies, Turks, and Pakistanis moved into what used to be Israeli territory to our south and west, and they are not so friendly.”
“Let me know what you want,” Wrench offered expansively. “We can fly you in some citrus fruit. Spain, Italy, southern France are all back on their feet and ready to deal.”
The doctor waggled an eyebrow. “Your Party of Humankind rules much of Europe now… as well as North America… eh? You can command lemons from the Mediterranean, olives from Greece, wine from France and Italy, butter from Holland… all the good things from the old days?”
“We trade, yes. But the Party doesn’t rule anyone, anywhere. There are sister-organizations in several European countries, but no international superstructure beyond a liaison committee. We have less real power, even in America, than the old political parties did. Local autonomy, that’s us.”
Dr. Casimir’s remarkable eyebrows descended in a frown. “If you say so… but I have read a bit about National Socialist ideas of local autonomy.”
“Things are different now. This isn’t the twentieth century. We don’t want secret police and ‘Five Year Plans.’ We’re for free enterprise and personal incentives.”
“Not socialism… state control by your monolithic party?” Wrench smiled. “We do support the coordination of major economic production: what the Germans called Gleichschaltung. We’re experimenting with that. The human race must manage its resources for the future. But we leave smaller businesses and industries alone; they’re more free now than they were under the ‘democracy’ of the old U.S.A., which was really bureaucratized socialism. We have less taxes, less control, fewer restrictions. America’s government more truly implements the will of the people now than it has for generations.”
“There are protests, we hear. Sectors that disagree with you?” “Sure. There always are. Fat cats kicked off the gravy train, welfare frauds made to work for their money, middlemen who actually have to produce something useful for a change. We’re setting reasonable rates of interest, stopping the siphoning off of wealth by usurers and ‘money men,’ changing over from a paper-money economy to one based on real goods. That’s only for starters. We’re also standardizing the law, doing away with injustices, cutting down top-heavy government, training the jobless, improving education, and helping the farmers keep their land. And if anybody thinks all this is easy, he’s welcome to try it!”
“And the Blacks? The Jews?”
“They’re not overjoyed. Many Blacks are emigrating to Africa, now that Pacov has almost wiped it clean north of the South African border. There are several colonies, the biggest run by an American Black, a Muslim named Khalifa Abdullah Sultani. We’re working to help him get things going. The Jews are another story. They’re used to being at the heart of government, at the top of the professions, in the media, in business and finance, and lately central in state and local activities too. When Starak took out our big cities, their power went way down. We’ve taken steps to make sure that it stays down. But they’re back at their old tricks, stirring up trouble, trying to incite the Blacks and other minorities that are left, working day and night to wreck what we’ve built. We’ll have to deal with them more strictly… and soon. Maybe we’ll send them to what’s left of Israel, as soon as the decon teams say it’s clean of Pacov. It’s certainly empty of Arabs now! Or they can join the Israeli colonies here in Russia. Either place, they should be happy. We’ll gladly help them resettle.”
The doctor gazed up at the ceiling. “The other day I mentioned ‘the vanished Russians’ to Mr. Lessing. You know what he answered? He said, ‘We are the Russians. Ring out the old, ring in the new!’”
“Smart, under the circumstances. My ancestors were English, but now I’m American, pure and simple. I don’t demand to return to my ‘homeland,’ kick out the king, and run England! The past must not dictate to the present and the future! The Jews have never been able to see this. They insist on their ancient tribal identity, right out of the Old Testament.”
“Yet you don’t want them to assimilate, to mingle and disappear into your population, do you?”
“Frankly, no. We don’t want them to change us. That’s happened enough already. When they came to America as refugees, we took them in. Then they took the place over and started remaking it to suit themselves. They turned America into a multi-racial pigsty. We’ll breathe easier when we’re completely free of them and their influence.”
Dr. Casimir glanced over at the two women, heads together as though they had been friends for years. ‘“The old order chan-geth….”’
“Changeth, yes, but not easily. You have to have a grassroots revolution to change an entrenched, traditional system. Anything less is cosmetic. We’ve learned that gradual reform is damned near impossible, especially when you’re fighting vested interests, a power elite, an Establishment. Like the Russian Revolution, the French Revolution, or the Izzies’ conquest of the Arabs, a real revolution has to be tough and thorough, a clean break with the past. Such an upheaval can’t help but cause suffering.”
“Draconian. That’s the word I want. You call for a violent, harsh, and simplistic solution: a draconian answer to complex questions.”
Wrench grinned amiably. “Like giving up smoking… or booze, which I’m trying to do now. Cold turkey is hell, but cutting down little by little doesn’t work with me.”
“This is different, Cadre-Commander. We’re talking about people… and hallowed, age-old institutions “
“Yes, people who have been duped and controlled and exploited for centuries by those age-old institutions, doctor. They deserve better!”
“National Socialism?”
“Yes. Not exactly what they had in the Third Reich, perhaps, but still National Socialism. We’re working toward a world order that guides but does not tyrannize; that honors creators, producers, and workers; that helps the needy out of their troubles instead of piously tossing them alms.”
“You’re an idealist, Cadre-Commander! Or a fool. Probably both.”
“Proud to be both! We can’t go on depending upon archaic ‘tried-and-true’ solutions, not after Pacov and Starak. We have to experiment. The economists and political scientists, the darlings of the ‘liberal’ academic establishment, gave us garbage. They couldn’t predict economic or social trends any belter than the fortune-teller lady at the carnival! They handed out guesswork theories wrapped in statistics and jargon and served up with all the pontifical authority of the Vestal Virgins! They flubbed! Now it’s our turn to try.”
“So who are your economic experts? Adolf Hitler? Vincent Dorn? Your great thinker who hides behind a pseudonym and an army of bodyguards!”
The doctor was well informed. Much of what Wrench had been saying did indeed come from “Dom.” Wrench said, “Partly right. Dom’s our theorist, our historian, the one who sees best through the fog. But he can’t handle it all; the world’s too complicated. We’ve got other experts, plus the most sophisticated computer ever devised. It’s able to compare and evaluate maybe a billion variables at once, and it has data banks that contain every bit of information all the way back to Creation!”
“You would let a machine run humanity… our lives?”
“Why not? No individual or group can control all the data, much less weigh probabilities and assess long-term results. We set our goals… no machine does that for us… and then our computers tell us how to attain them.”
“Data management I can see. But decisions made by a machine? The future of the world?”