“The programmed people?”
“Everybody will have an assignment and we’ll all have to perform on a rigid schedule,” said Minerva Kaufman.
“Thou shalt not fold, spindle, or mutilate thy fellow human being—unless the circumstances force thy hand.”
“I’m for Minerva staying in charge.” The boy with the long blond hair made the motion. “All in favor?”
There was an overwhelming show of hands.
“Okay.” Minerva accepted. “Now one of the first things we’ve got to decide is what to do with the hostages.”
“Spread-eagle ’em across the doorways and windows!” The CIA Indian was on his feet again, pounding his bare chest. “Threaten to run ’em through if we’re attacked!” His chest was a fiery red. “Burn one of ’em at the stake! Just to show we mean business!” Up close it could be seen that the redness was the result of a nasty rash—probably caused by his allergy to the war paint streaking his upper torso. “Burn, Kemosabe, burn!”
“That’s pretty extreme,” Minerva remonstrated.
“Extremism in the defense of extremism is no crime!” Scratching fiercely, the CIA Indian sat down and folded his arms.
“He’s right!” A few others picked up on the sentiment. “If they want violence, we’ll give ’em violence!”
“Peace and love everywhere!”
“Hold on a minute!” Minerva reestablished her grip on the group. “We can’t afford to blow our cool. If we harm any of those hostages, we’ll turn off any support we might get from outside, and probably most of the large group of uncommitted students here at Harnell as well. If the other side acts violently first, then the sympathy will be with us. Going by the patterns at other schools, we could be the rallying point for a general student protest strike here at Harnell. But only if we’re the victims. Now you put me in charge, and this is one decision I’m going to make. Nobody lays a hand on the hostages!”
“Then what do we do with them?” a law student spoke up. “If we continue to hold them prisoner, then technically we face a federal kidnapping charge. And for what? What’s the point if we’re not prepared to use them to buttress our position?”
“All right. Then we’ll let them go,” Minerva decided. “When the ultimatum falls due, just before the bust, at nine in the morning, we’ll give the hostages safe-conduct out of here. If we time it right, the media will cover it. That way we’ll stress our own lack of violence and when the action starts we’ll come off as being reasonable in contrast to the administration’s heavy hand.” She looked at the faces of the students and finally pointed at Jonathan Relevant. “You take charge of that,” she instructed him. “Get the prisoners all together in one place so they’ll be ready to leave when the time comes.”
The CIA Indian puffed his pipe approvingly. “Congratulations,” the smoke signal said. “That’s what I call really infiltrating.”
Jonathan Relevant nodded noncommittally at the Indian and started out of the room to comply with Minerva’s instructions.
A cloud of smoke signal advice followed him: “Rough them up! Leave marks! Blood . . .”
Jonathan Relevant’s first stop in collecting the prisoners was the room of Dr. Ludmilla Skivar. When he opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of what was fast becoming the best-known rear end on the Harnell campus. It Was - as usual—mooning nakedly.
Big Dick Eberhard rolled over and Dr. Ludmilla Skivar came into view. “I didn’t hurt her. Honest, Ghaw-urge!”
“I know you didn’t. It’s all right,” Jonathan Relevant reassured him.
“Darling! I am so glad to see you again!” Ludmilla chattered in rapid and embarrassed Russian. “I hope you don’t think I was being unfaithful to you. This fellow is my guard and he is big and strong and --”
“I understand. No need for explanations.” Jonathan Relevant escorted her to the room where the prisoners were to be gathered and then continued on down the corridor to fetch the next hostage.
“Colonel Relevant, suh!” Leander Pigbaigh greeted him. “So they got yew tew! Ah’m mighty sorry ’bout all this, suh.”
“Tha’s the way the cawn-pone crumbles,” Jonathan Relevant replied.
“Listen, Colonel,” Pigbaigh whispered in his ear. “Doan’ dee-spair. Cee Ah Aih is on the job. We got a man in theah with them commie kids. They thank he’s a hippie.” Pigbaigh chuckled. “He’ll get us out of heah some ways.”
“Ain’t no sweat,” Jonathan Relevant agreed. “Ah’m in contac’ with him. Now y’all jes’ wait heah.” He left Pigbaigh in the room with Ludmilla.
Peter Glover was next. His Chamber of Commerce face lit up like John Wayne hearing the nick-o’-time bugle call of approaching cavalry when Jonathan Relevant appeared. “American ingenuity always finds a way,” he enthused. “That’s what made the country great. I knew from the first that you were the kind of hardheaded businessman Condom-Inium could depend on, Mr. Relevant. Now, sir, What’s your plan for getting us out of here?”
“The first thing is to get everybody together, Mr. Glover. I understand there are some research personnel still locked in their laboratories.”
“That’s right. They locked themselves in when those damn kids took over the place. They won’t let the SDS into the labs, and the kids won’t let them out.”
“Well, I can guarantee them safe-conduct out if we can get to them,” Jonathan Relevant told Glover.
“They’ll open up for me.” Glover was positive.
“Good.”
Jonathan Relevant and Glover went to the section of the institute where the laboratories were located. The SDS guards were dismissed. A few words from Glover, and the two of them were admitted to the labs. An antiseptic-looking little man in a white coat closed the door and turned to face them.
“This is Dr. Handelquim, Chief Research Gynecologist for Condom-Inium.” Peter Glover introduced the little man to Jonathan Relevant.
“A most interesting field.” Jonathan Relevant shook hands with him.
“Thank you.” The gynecologist inserted the index fingers of each hand at the corners of his mouth and widened his lips into a smile. “I can see, sir, that you are the sort of man who appreciates the importance of my work. Not too many men do. Women, on the other hand—”
“Dr. Handelquim is ambidextrous,” Peter Glover interjected. “He’s one of our most dependable scientists— a gynecologist who keeps his nose to the groinstone.”
Dr. Handelquim beamed at the compliment as Peter Glover led Jonathan Relevant through a door at the back of the laboratory. They emerged in a room of whirring computers and blinking lights. A tall, muscular Japanese of about thirty-five years looked up as they entered.
“This is Professor Tektodi in charge of our Data Processing Center,” Peter Glover identified the Japanese. “And this is Jonathan Relevant,” he told Professor Tektodi.
“A privilege.” Professor Tektodi smiled into the intellectual visage of the Oriental with Glover and bowed low.
“The privilege is mine.” Jonathan Relevant returned the bow.
“It is indeed an honor to meet you, Jan-San Relevant.”
“I am the one who is honored to meet the renowned Professor Tektodi.”
“The honorable Jan-San Relevant knows of me? I am truly flattered.”
“Who does not know of your work on computers?”
“You are interested in computers, Jan-San Relevant?”
“Indeed.”
“Then I shall myself be honored to show to you the latest circuitry which has resulted in a mechanism so superior to the human brain as to render any further thought processes of man unnecessary.” Professor Tektodi’s eyes glowed. “What do you think of that, Jan-San Relevant?”
“It won’t be necessary for me to think of it.” Jan-San Relevant spread his hands Wide. “It will do the thinking for me.”