“I had not noticed it. To what end? For their armed forces? For their prison population? Or as a public utility? I confess to some surprise.”
“Oh, not that way at all! The government pays them to keep their legs crossed. Take it off the market entirely. They are trained, licensed, examinedÄand stockpiled. Only it doesn’t work. The designated `surplus artists’ draw their subsidy checks . . . then go right ahead peddling tail. When they aren’t supposed to do it even for fun because that hurts the market for the unsubsidized whores. So the hookers’ union, who sponsored the original legislation to support the union scale, is now trying to work out a voucher system to plug up the holes in the subsidy law. And that won’t work either.”
“Why won’t it work, Friday?”
“Boss, laws to sweep back the tide never do work; that’s what King Canute was saying. Surely you know that?”
“I wanted to be sure that you knew it.”
“I think I’ve been insulted. I ran across a goody. In the California Confederacy it is against the law to refuse credit to a person merely because that person has taken bankruptcy. Credit is a civil right.”
“I assume that it does not work but what form does noncompliance take?”
“I have not yet investigated, Boss. But I think a deadbeat would be at a disadvantage in trying to bribe a judge. I want to mention one of the obvious symptoms: Violence. Muggings. Sniping. Arson. Bombing. Terrorism of any sort. Riots of courseÄbut I suspect that little incidents of violence, pecking away at people day after day, damage a culture even more than riots that flare up and then die down. I guess that’s all for now. Oh, conscription and slavery and arbitrary compulsion of all sorts and imprisonment without bail
and without speedy trialÄbut those things are obvious; all the histories list them.”
“Friday, I think you have missed the most alarming symptom of all.
“I have? Are you going to tell me? Or am I going to have to grope around in the dark for it?”
“Mmm. This once I shall tell you. But go back and search for it. Examine it. Sick cultures show a complex of symptoms such as you have named . . . but a dying culture invariably exhibits personal rudeness. Bad manners. Lack of consideration for others in minor matters. A loss of politeness, of gentle manners, is more significant than is a riot.”
“Really?”
“Pfui. I should have forced you to dig it out for yourself; then you would know it. This symptom is especially serious in that an individual displaying it never thinks of it as a sign of ill health but as proof of his/her strength. Look for it. Study it. Friday, it is too late to save this cultureÄthis worldwide culture, not just the freak show here in California. Therefore we must now prepare the monasteries for the coming Dark Age. Electronic records are too fragile; we must again have books, of stable inks and resistant paper. But that may not be enough. The reservoir for the next renaissance may have to come from beyond the sky.” Boss stopped and breathed heavily. “Friday . .
“Yes, sir?”
“Memorize this name and address.” His hands moved at his console; the answer appeared on his high screen. I memorized it.
“Do you have it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Shall I repeat it for check?”
“No, sir.”
“You are sure?”
“Repeat it if you wish, sir.”
“Mmm. Friday, would you be so kind as to pour a cup of tea for me before you leave? I find that my hands are unsteady today.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
xxiv
Neither Goldie nor Anna showed up next day at breakfast. I ate by myself and consequently fairly quickly; I dawdle over food only when shared with company. This was just as well for I was just standing up, finished, when Anna’s voice came over the speaking system:
“Attention, please. I have the unhappy duty to announce that during the night our Chairman died. By his wish there will be no memorial service. The body has been cremated. At nine hundred hours, in the large conference room, there will be a meeting to wind up the affairs of the company. Everyone is urged to attend and to be on time.”