The Shockwave Rider (36 page)

“Mm-hm.” Ted dropped back into his chair. “Our computer capacity at Precipice has been adequate to dissect out patterns from the calls made to Hearing Aid for about—oh—sixteen or seventeen years. Now and then, moreover, we’ve had a single call that opened up a whole new area of investigation for us. Yours while you were at Tarnover, for example.” He nodded at Nick. “We’ve quietly followed up one lead after another, accumulating things like the keys needed to open Federal-secure data banks, convinced that ultimately a crisis must occur that would leave the public dazed and panicky. At which time they would want to be told where they were in the world. To further our design we created the—the underground railroad which we passed you along: friends, colleagues, associates, supporters, sympathizers, in literally hundreds of different professions.”

“Paul Freeman put it neatly,” Nick said. “According to him, Precipice is a very big place once you learn to recognize it.”

Ted chuckled. “Oh, yes! If you count in all those people whom we’ve created freemen, entitled to be defended by our defenses, our population totals five or six times what you find in a census return.”

“We had models to copy,” Brad said. “The old hippie movement, for one. The eighteenth-century community of science. An organization called Open Door which flourished in the middle of the last century. And so forth.”

“Your foresight was fantastic,” Kate said warmly.

“Pretty fair,” Ted acknowledged. “Above average, that’s for certain. But we never foresaw that the crisis would arrive in the shape of one young man!”

“Not one,” Nick said. “Several. Tarnover deserter, life-style counselor, preacher, fencing hustler—”

“Person,” Kate said firmly, and laid her hand over his. “And by the way, Ted!”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for saving Bagheera.”

“Wasn’t too hard. Did you talk to Jake Treves on the way here, find out why he was able to help out?”

She shook her head. “He put us straight into the concealed compartment. We didn’t show our heads the whole time.”

“Safer that way, I guess. Well, Jake is one of the people working on the problem of how to get our dogs to live to a ripe old age. It’s part of a wide program to find out how stress is linked to aging. When you get the chance you’ll enjoy talking to Jake, you know. Your father’s hypothesis—”

He was interrupted. Distant in the night there was a sharp bark, followed by another and another.

Brad cocked his head. “Sounds as though Nat caught the bomber we’re expecting.”

Ted rose to his feet. “If so,” he grunted, “I wouldn’t care to be in his shoes.”

AMONG THE FACTORS THAT CLIMAXED IN A BREAKDOWN
OF GOVERNMENT

1: Thank you for your inquiry concerning the whereabouts of Secret Service Operative Miskin A. Breadloaf. He is under intensive medical care at Precipice CA recovering from injuries sustained while resisting arrest by Sheriff Theodore Horovitz. He was in possession of six self-seeking catapult bombs, U.S. Army Code QB3, issued to him at 1010 PST yesterday from stocks held in the National Guard Armory at San Feliciano CA in pursuance of Confidential Presidential Directive #919 001 HVW, which states in full:

“I’m sick of Hearing Aid. Get the buggers who run it and never mind who else you hurt.”

2: As a result of the failure of Mr. Breadloaf’s mission a strike has been authorized against Precipice CA at 0130 PST tomorrow by aircraft based at Lowndes Field near San Diego. Since this is to be carried out with junior nukes (USAF Code 19L-12) Mr. Breadloaf is not expected to survive.

(N3: part 2 of the foregoing message is a cybernetic datum published in direct contravention of DoD Regulation #229RR3X3, as being conducive to the physical, psychological and/or social well-being of the population.)

EXTREMELY CROSS SECTION

“Wipe that grin off your face! You knew the company was going broke and I can prove it!”

“Precipice? Where’s that?”

“My sister went blind, near me? Blind! And she never used any eye makeup except your brand!”

“Bomb an American city? Oh, it must be a mistake.”

“It was my money, and I sweated blood to earn it, and it went to feather your stinking nest!”

“Precipice? Seems to me I heard that name before.”

“Christ, what you did to the poor little slittie! She hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in months, she always wakes up screaming and howling, and I was fool enough to bring her back for more. I could never look her in the face again if I didn’t ruin yours.”

“What was that about Precipice?”

“Damn right I voted for him. But if I’d known then what I know now I wouldn’t have cast a vote. I’d have cast a brick.”

“A strike? With nukes? My God, I know Hearing Aid isn’t exactly popular, but—!”

“Jim, I don’t believe you know my lawyer Charles Sweyn. He has something to give you. Charlie? Fine. You’ll notice the summons mentions damages of fifty million.”

“I thought we were talking about some town called Precipice.”

“I read what it said on that tax form and I swear to God I’ll pay you in buckshot if you show your filthy nose around my place!”

“Really? I always wondered where their base was.”

“Precipice?”

“Hearing Aid?”

“Nukes?”

“My God! Do you think they know about this? Where’s a phone?
Quick!
”

TOUCH AND GO

Past one a.m. at the headquarters of Hearing Aid. Ordinarily a dead time of night because most of the continent had orbited into sleep and only a handful of the most lonely, the most dismal, the most despairing were still anxious to talk to an anonymous listener.

Tonight was different. The room was crackling with restrained tension. The goal to which since its foundation Precipice had been dedicated was upon them, and they had never expected it to be so soon.

Solemn expressions were on the faces of the dozen people present. Only half of them were engaged in listening duty; other calls were being relayed to private homes. The remainder were monitoring the progress of their super-tapeworm.

To them generally Nick said, turning away from his board, “News from Paul Freeman. He got that body-and-soul program on the move, the one he hoped to adapt from the existing federal resources-allocation program. He said it was tough.”

“That was the postwar one?” Sweetwater inquired.

“Right.” Nick stretched his long arms. “Consequently it was drafted to ensure that only people the government approved of would be allotted food, medicine, clothing and power.”

“You mean,” Kate supplied, “it was built to make certain that the people fool enough to drag us into a major war would wind up on top again afterwards.”

“So they could screw us up the next time, right. But Paul managed to peel away that factor by substituting a half-like basis for entitlement to credit, and left the rest intact to run the net with even more authority than it had when it was an arm for Weychopee. He was there when it was written. Spotted its weaknesses right away.”

“So what does it do now?” Brad Compton demanded.

“Not a few good things. If people vote for Proposition #1, no greedy shivver will get his wall-to-wall three-vee so long as anybody’s homeless. He won’t get his round-the-planet airship cruise so long as people are dying from any disease we know how to cure.”

“Smooth enough for starters,” Sweetwater said. “But has there been any progress on your side, Nick—rationalizing the tax structure? That’s what I want to know about. When I think how angry I got paying off the croakers in Oakland because of their local ordinance against mediums … !”

“Oh, yes. Proposition #2 is cooking as nicely as #1,” Nick said, and tapped a quick code into his board. “It went back to have a couple of loopholes deleted, and if there’s no further snag … Ah, good. Coming up in about two minutes.”

Suzy Dellinger said absently, “You know, I always wondered what democracy might smell like. Finally I detect it in the air.”

“Curious that it should arrive in the form of electronic government,” Sweetwater murmured.

Brad Compton glanced at her. “Not really, when you think about the history of liberty. It’s the story of how principle has gradually been elevated above the whim of tyrants. When the law was defined as more powerful than the king, that was one great breakthrough. Now we’ve come to another milestone. We’re giving power to more people than have ever before enjoyed it, and—”

“And it makes me feel,” Nick interrupted, “the way they must have felt when they started the first nuclear chain reaction. Will there still be a world in the morning?”

There was a short pause, silent but for the hum of the electrical equipment, as they contemplated the continental pre-empt scheduled for the day after tomorrow. From 0700 local until 1900 every veephone on the continent would display, over and over, two propositions, accompanied by a spoken version for the benefit of the illiterate. Most would be in English, but some would be in Spanish, some in Amerind languages, some in Chinese … the proportions being based on the latest continental census. After each repetition would follow a pause, during which any adult could punch into the phone his or her code, followed by a “yes” or a “no.”

And according to the verdict, the computers of the continent would respond.

Proposition #1 concerned the elimination of all but voluntary poverty. Proposition #2—

“Here it comes,” Nick said, scanning the columns of figures and code groups appearing on his screen. “Seems to be pretty well finalized. Categorizes occupations on three axes. One: necessary special training, or uncommon talent in lieu—that’s to cover people with exceptional creative gifts like musicians or artists. Two: drawbacks like unpredictable hours and dirty working conditions. Three: social indispensability.”

Brad slapped his thigh. “What a monument to Claes College!”

“Mm-hm. There’ll be a footnote on every single printout explaining that if we’d paid attention to what the Claes group discovered by working among the Bay Quake refugees this could have been settled a generation back. … Hmm! Yes, I think this balances out very nicely. For instance, a doctor will score high on special training and social importance too, but he can only get into the top pay bracket if he accepts responsibility for helping emergency cases, instead of keeping fixed office hours. That puts him high on all three scales. And a garbage collector, though rating low on special training, will do well on scales two and three. All public servants like police and firemen will automatically score high on scale three and most on scale two as well, and—oh, yes. I like the look of it. Particularly since a lot of parasites who were at the top in the old days will now pay tax at ninety percent because they score zero on all three axes.”

“Zero?” someone demanded in disbelief.

“Why not? People in advertising, for example.”

The questioner’s eyebrows rose. “Never thought of that before. But it figures.”

“Think they’ll stand for it?” Kate said nervously, patting Bagheera who lay at her side. Since meeting Natty Bumppo he had refused to be left out of sight of her, although he and the dog had exhibited mutual tolerance, as favorable a reaction as might have been hoped for.

“Their choice is to close down the net,” Nick said, and snapped his fingers. “Thereby breaking their own necks. Suzy, you look worried.”

The mayor nodded. “Even if they don’t deliberately blow the net when they find they can’t interfere with our pre-empt, to make some kind of grand suicidal gesture … there’s another and more disturbing question.”

“What?”

“Are people scared into their right minds yet?”

The following silence was broken by the soft buzz of an incoming call. Kate switched it to her board and put on her phones.

Seconds later she uttered a loud gasp, and all heads turned to her.

Peeling off her phones again, she spun her chair, her cheeks as pale as paper and her eyes wide with fear.

“It can’t be true! It simply can’t be true! My God, it’s already twenty past one—the plane must have taken off!”

“What? What?” A chorus of anxious voices.

“That caller claimed to be a cousin of Miskin Breadloaf. The would-be bomber you arrested, Ted. She says Precipice is going to be attacked with nukes at 0130!”

“Ten minutes? We can’t possibly evacuate the town in ten minutes!” Suzy whispered, clenching her fists and staring at the wall clock as though willing it to show some earlier time.

“We’ll have to try!” Ted snapped, jumping to his feet and heading for the door. “I’ll get Nat to rouse everybody and—” He checked. Nick had suddenly launched into a burst of furious activity, punching his board with fingers that flew faster than a pianist’s.

“Nick! Don’t waste time—move! We need everybody’s help!”

“Shut up!” Nick grated between clenched teeth. “Go on, wake the town, get everybody away that you can …
but leave me alone!
”

“Nick!” Kate said, taking an uncertain pace toward him.