Desperate Games (11 page)

Other cases of this strange illness were reported and initially so many cosmonauts were affected that for some time it was believed that the illness was peculiar to spacemen. The signs could take very varied forms, from the benign to the occasional delirious frenzy. One such person for example, sitting dumbstruck at the driving wheel of his car, was seen to stop suddenly, when he had got himself into a position to park between two vehicles, and to stay there motionless, holding up the traffic. Then he alerted passers-by with his angry cries, imploring someone to telephone the WAO, to have someone show him the sequence of maneouvres necessary. He had become incapable of doing it by himself.

This anxiety started to spread throughout the world, adding to the present worries of the government, and then it appeared that the illness was spreading to other types of individuals and that in fact it could happen to anyone. Despite the different ways in which it manifested itself, all the cases had a common character. And after analysing one case after another with veritable professional passion, Mrs Betty Han defined it as follows: a loss of confidence in the
ego
. It soon became common to refer to the condition by its initials only, LCE.

Thus LCE started to wreak havoc in all classes of society and sometimes the disorder appeared farcical, but at other times it led to dreadful tragedies. In the telephone exchange of a large
hotel for example, there was only one employee in charge, as all communications were carried out automatically by computer. One day this machine was put out of order by a short circuit, after functioning perfectly for several months. The employee in question, who had formerly been an expert, was observed to be incapable of putting a plug in the hole corresponding to a room number and he called urgently, shouting hysterically, for the help of a backup computer.

In a building where, as everywhere, a constant temperature was maintained with the aid of a thermostat, the caretaker could not bring himself to perform the simple action of pressing a button to start the boilers working when an accident had caused the equipment to break down one day when it was very cold. An accountant, while travelling without the calculators he was accustomed to use, was observed to be completely incapable of settling his hotel bill because he could not count his bank notes.

One extremely strange case which gave rise to some amusement was that of a famous writer, who, after finishing an important book, a saga of more than a thousand pages, found that he could not
sign
the contract presented to him by his editor. He had worked for years using a dictaphone, relying only on this and on a secretary who served him as a typist. He had thus lost all confidence in his capacity to write. His editor had to be satisfied with his verbal agreement and his marking it with a cross.

Finally, as examples of cases in which LCE ended in tragedy, apart from the first two cosmonauts, one could cite the many sick people suffering from polio. Strangely enough, it had not been eliminated like many other illnesses. The vaccine had actually lost its efficacy and there was quite a large number of people who were affected by it. Fortunately, a cure for it was now known which did not leave any trace, but the treatment was long and meant keeping the patient in an iron lung for several months. The number of specialist hospitals as well as the perfection of the equipment made it possible to care for all sick people,
so that complete success could be attained in more than ninety per cent of cases.

Some patients, who had been given this treatment and then released completely cured, found themselves suddenly incapable of breathing independently. It was not a matter of a virus, neither was it an injury to the spinal cord. Their bodies were perfectly healthy: medical examinations left no room for doubt on this point. They were identified as having an acute form of LCE. They had lost confidence in their ability to breathe without mechanical aid. It was as though many of them had been struck by lightning and they could not be revived. In other cases it was possible to put them back into the iron lung just in time, where they immediately regained the peace of mind and sense of normality which had eluded them.

Finally, while the scientific government was suffering from distressing setbacks and found itself confronted with problems which left it baffled, another scourge soon overwhelmed the whole world, causing Fawell to be extremely anxious and inflicting horrible nightmares on him every night. This was the considerable increase in the number of suicides.

The merciless truth of the statistics made him shudder. If the curve continued the upward trend it had been on for several weeks (and it was the mathematician Yranne’s opinion that it would inevitably do so, unless the data changed drastically), then humanity was racing towards systematic and rapid self-destruction. It was necessary to set about suppressing the causes of the affliction, but they were difficult to identify because the suicides were almost always people who had been enjoying perfect affluence, thriving health and had no material worries for themselves or their families.

A commission of scholars who had been given the responsibility of studying the problem foresaw at one time that there would be an epidemic of unhappy or thwarted love affairs. All
enquiries proved the inaccuracy of this hypothesis. Out of a thousand cases of suicide, only one or two could be attributed to the harsh suffering caused by an unhappy love affair. The others had to be put in a mysterious category of those with causes that could not be explained by scientific methods.

Considering the outcomes of what his government had undertaken, with the awareness and absence of complacency that he always brought to such examinations, Fawell found himself forced to draw the following conclusion:

Even though it had managed to organise the planet in a rational way, and had achieved indisputable successes in the practical sphere, the Scientific Government of the World seemed to encounter nothing but failure on the spiritual plain.

Having formulated this observation for himself, he sank into gloomy despair, for this was the complete opposite of his ideal.

Other concerns assailed him. Bitter criticisms were raised every day in the very heart of the cabinet, in the light of the turn which events had taken. Rivalries which had been held under control during the initial period of success now divided the ministers and the two large groups of scholars opposed each other again. The often acrimonious discussions were almost all about the same issue, which was of vital importance to them. They felt completely indifferent to the political problems of previous times, such as capitalism, fascism, the proletariat, the class struggle, communism, democracy, and even socialism, but not to the question of knowing whether the Universe could be considered and studied independently of Mankind. Physicists such as O’Kearn or Fawell himself implicitly and even openly avowed that this was possible, whereas all the biologists maintained that Mankind’s role in it should be considered. The latter
found it easy to blame the present failures on the inhumanity of the former. There were only two of this opinion in the government, but they made their voices heard frequently and more and more loudly.

While it was possible to accept, they claimed, that the head of the government was a physicist, it could not be regarded as normal that the vice-president should be a mathematician, in other words, someone in a related field. What’s more this means the two main leaders have no practical knowledge about human beings, as they live in a fantasy world of inert particles and figures. It was not surprising, according to them, that things had come to the present impasse, not least because the majority of the ministers, who were also physicists, allowed themselves to be influenced by their decisions. The biologists were supported behind the scenes by the
Nobels
in their clan who were spreading the rumour that the nature of the tests for the selection competition gave an outrageous advantage to the physicists. Some of them even went so far as to propose that the present government be dissolved, so that they could carry out new, more balanced tests.

In the face of such a campaign, orchestrated in secret by Sir Alex Keene, O’Kearn reacted strongly, and it was as much his reputation as his authority which saved the cabinet by keeping Fawell at its head, who, feeling despondent, had been considering presenting his resignation.

During a meeting of the
Nobels
who were studying this eventuality, O’Kearn had no difficulty in demonstrating the catastrophic effect that an admission of defeat would have on everyone in the world.

‘Not only their hierarchy,’ he declared forcefully, ‘but the choice of ministers itself is not the result of drawing lots or of some random election. It is the result of a very strict competition, which we organised, the
Nobels
as one group, and for which we were the impartial judges. We cannot accuse them
of incompetence today without seriously undermining our own prestige, that is to say that of science, which we need now more than ever.’

It was the very evidence they needed and the majority of his colleagues agreed. Reminding them of the successes they had achieved during the first few years, he declared that neither the government nor its leader had in any way proved themselves unworthy. Admittedly, he recognised that certain problems did not appear to have been foreseen.

‘But I see no reason,’ he said, ‘why these cases which preoccupy and torment us should be more suited to the competence of biology scholars than to that of physicists and mathematicians.’

At this point Sir Alex Keene let out a snigger and a murmur of protest arose from the benches of the physiologist
Nobels
but this did not stop O’Kearn from continuing passionately.

‘I repeat: they are not within the field of competence of either the one or the other group. It is not a question of an illness like cancer, for the extermination of which, we know, gentlemen, you have worked wonders. It’s not a matter of microbes, viruses or bacteria. It is a question, we are all convinced, of a mental illness. Well, such an illness is the province of psychology. We were certainly wrong, and we the
Nobels
most of all, in not attaching enough importance to the adaptive possibilities of the human mind. We should certainly have included tests of this kind in our initial examinations. There is no point in pouring out vain regrets now. We must find a remedy. If the mind is sick, then we must call upon specialists of the mind, on medical experts, that is to say on psychologists and psychiatrists. It is possible for us to do this and even easy to do so, without changing the government’s constitution in any way and without going back on our decisions, as we are fortunate to have amongst us one of the most brilliant authorities on such matters.’

He then reminded them that Mrs Betty Han had taken second place in the final competition, tying with Yranne. The latter,
chosen at first as vice-president by Fawell, had shown the measure of his intelligence and his spirit of organisation. He should be and must be thanked for this. But today the psychologist was designated by circumstances to occupy this post with increased powers and responsibilities.

The scholar concluded by expressing the wish that Fawell should be discreetly approached to ensure that he reshuffle his ministry in this way, which was all in all a small modification in agreement with the rules established at the time of the selection of ministers.

The
Nobels
could not reject such a wise proposal. Fawell decided to put the decision into practice, after a friendly conversation with Yranne, who made no protest whatsoever. He himself had been thinking for some time of calling for a closer collaboration with the Chinese woman. And Betty accepted the post of vice-president.

‘Do you think you can find a remedy to our present situation?’ he asked her anxiously.

She declared that she thought she could, after having thought it over for a long time, but on condition that she was provided with the means and the power to do so, including suitable staff.

‘Like all forms of science,’ she said, ‘psychology cannot do without study rooms, laboratories and many qualified specialists.’

‘You shall have everything you require. I shall make a formal commitment to do so,’ the President assured her. She was his only hope of getting over the impasse. ‘I give you a completely free hand.’

The first thing that Mrs Betty Han asked for was the setting up of a new organisation, of which she would be the director at the same time as carrying out the duties of vice-president. Thus the Ministry of Psychology was created.

The stadium could hold five hundred thousand people, and each seat beyond a certain distance was provided with special telescopic viewers, which allowed the audience member to see the details of the spectacle as well as the people sitting in the front rows. But the stadium was still too small to accommodate the masses who had a passion for the games. All of the television networks had also been mobilised for this event, with relays allowing the broadcasts to be distributed to all corners of the world. All the citizens of the world were therefore able to watch live the finale of the world super-wrestling team championship, which was taking place that evening.

In fact, the whole of humanity was there, or almost all of it. Those who were not among the five hundred thousand privileged ones had abandoned their occupations, their usual hobbies, to settle in front of their television sets before the start of the match, anxious at the thought of missing an exceptional part if they arrived late, or even missing the end, if it concluded with the extremely rapid victory of one team, as had happened once in the course of the semi-finals.

Mrs Betty Han had insisted on presiding over the event herself, and her entrance had prompted a show of warm sympathy for her. As soon as she appeared, surrounded by some important personalities from her ministry, the five hundred thousand spectators, who were already in their seats, stood up and applauded. Betty’s popularity was now immense. The world paid tribute to her as the woman who had dispelled their depressing melancholy, curbed the epidemic of suicides and who, gradually, by judicious means, by audacious innovations and thanks to the brainwaves of the ministry which she ran, managed to restore confidence in their
egos
to those unfortunate people who had lost it.

Many of her colleagues were jealous of her and did not attend this finale. But Fawell did not think in that way, as he
appreciated the excellent results she had obtained, but he had refrained from attending to leave all the glory of the evening to the vice-president. Yranne was present however, together with his friend Zarratoff. He had managed to drag Zarratoff along, in spite of his hatred of all forms of games.

He had been to visit the astronomer that same morning and had found him in the familiar posture he adopted when he was not preoccupied with some problem of government. Leaning on his work table, with a sky map spread out before him, Zarratoff enjoyed speculating about the birth of other worlds and the nature of the universe. Yranne did not let himself be put off by the indignant protests which first greeted his invitation to attend the games.

‘You should be ashamed of disturbing me with that when I’m working. I refuse to devote even a minute to such a trivial spectacle.’

‘I can assure you it will be extraordinary. You must see it, if only to have good empirical reasons to criticise it.’

This argument finally convinced the astronomer, who let himself be taken to the stadium, grumbling all the way.

Many
Nobels
could also be seen in attendance and they seemed no less excited than the rest of the agitated crowd, waiting tensely for entertainment of exceptional quality.

Mrs Betty Han went to her seat and remained standing, motionless, facing the orchestra. The crowd copied her and the musicians launched into the world anthem, the words of which were now known perfectly by everyone but which was hummed however by many of those present.

In the form of a truncated cone, the stadium was in fact an enormous circus, the floor of which was covered with sand and formed a
ring
, like that used in boxing, but perfectly circular and not the usual size, which was separated from the spectators by a row of high iron bars, instead of the traditional ropes. The
two teams, as well as the three referees, were now standing in the centre of the ring. Each team consisted of two men and two women and all of them wore robes. They were listening motionless to the world anthem. The circumference of the stadium was decorated with banners depicting naked truth, the shapes of which were illuminated by spotlights.

The music stopped. A few whispers arose on the terraces, and then stopped when Mrs Betty Han started to speak. She said simply:

‘I declare the final of the world championship of mixed-team super-wrestling open. My good wishes and those of my ministry go out to all the combatants. Commence, and may the best teams win.’

Then she gave the world salute, in the manner recently decreed by the government, that is by raising both arms parallel over the head, a gesture which symbolised the eternal ascent of science towards progress.

The eight wrestlers responded to her by saluting in their turn. Then Betty sat down, and the spectators did likewise. The lights on the terraces went out, leaving only the ring brightly illuminated. One of the referees introduced the teams.

‘On my right, the Alpha team, representing quantum theory. On my right, the Beta team, which champions Neo-Darwinism.’

Each team saluted again when its name was mentioned and the crowd responded with shouts and cheers. There followed the introduction of the individual athletes.

‘In the Alpha team, Miss Lovely, student of physical sciences.’

The male and female wrestlers were applauded one by one. But the cheering was most enthusiastic for Miss Lovely, a young woman who could not have been more than twenty years old. She had won the public’s hearts for several reasons: she had distinguished herself during the qualifying rounds and the semi-final as a formidable catcher, a marvel of flexibility, agility and courage. What is more there is no doubt that she deserved
her pseudonym ‘Lovely’, which she had adopted, according to custom, after the crowd had nicknamed her thus. She was graceful and had a pleasant face, despite the fact that her hair was cut very short, and when she took off her robe, her body was perfectly proportioned, making a pleasing contrast with the rough and coarse figures of the other combatants. These qualities appeared to even greater advantage, for, like the other combatants, both male and female, Miss Lovely was almost nude, clothed only in the smallest of shorts.

The burst of applause which greeted the way she took off her robe, in both a noble and provocative manner, a sort of preliminary striptease which lent a little spice to the game, was as much in homage to her reputation as an athlete as her glorious breasts. It seemed as though she were offering them to everyone present when she raised both arms to the sky, saluting the world again, and turning around several times on the spot to face the five hundred thousand spectators.

‘The bout consists of one round only and ends only when one of the teams is annihilated,’ the referee added.

There was the sound of a gong being struck, and a religious silence descended all over the stadium as the champions prepared themselves for combat: from the sheathes which they wore on the belts of their shorts, they drew their daggers.