John Brunner – Jagged Orbit

“Which brings me at long last to my main point,” Conroy said. “I will indeed set up a bunch of parameters for the packling of your wife which will make Mogshack’s vaunted cure look like a mile-wide miss-and what’s more I’ll be right and he’ll be wrong because he doesn’t care whether he suppresses originality or creativity or obstinacy or any other valuable characteristic so long as his computers predict a satisfied client. From there on it’ll be up to you. But I want you to bear two things in mind.”

He leaned earnestly close to Flamen. “One! I can’t give you back your wife as she was when you loved her. Nobody can. It was you who changed her, and if you want her you’ll have to win her back as the person she now is. Which may mean changing yourself, and that can be painful.

“And two! Don’t delude yourself that just bringing down Mogshack will put the world back together all by itself. If you succeed in, say, getting him kicked out of his job, I’ll be pleased-God, will I be pleased! But I’ll also expect you to make use of your success, and exploit it to go after somebody really poisonous, like the Gottschalks.”

He broke off to tilt the last of his beer down his gulUncertain whether to make a promise he was probnot going to be able to keep, Flamen hesitated, and before he could reply there came a tap on his shoulTurning, he saw a strange woman leaning down to him.

“Are you Mr. Flamen?” she said.

“Yes-yes, I am!” Flamen drew himself up; it was very reassuring to be recognized by a stranger right now.

“Well, you’ve been being paged for the last ten minthe woman said, and pointed to the screen over the public comweb at the end of the bar. The name matthew flamen was flashing red at two-second in

“Ten minutes!”

“Well, you seemed to be busy, and I wasn’t sure it was you,” the woman said, stepping back defensively as though afraid he might strike her.

“Ah. Yes. Well, thank you anyway.” Flamen rose, scowling, and the woman retreated with a timid nod. “Excuse me,” he added to Conroy, who shrugged.

Heading for the comweb, he wondered furiously who could have tracked him down here; he had hoped to be uninterrupted at least long enough to consult Conroy about a joint approach to Prior. The latter was dubious about having Celia packled according to parameters of Conroy’s-he judged everything by externals, and what counted for him was that Mogshack was in charge of the Ginsberg whereas Conroy was a failure driven to teachin an obscure college. Worst of all, as Celia’s preslegal guardian he could theoretically forbid Convoy to come anywhere near her.

Ripping the fax paper which bore his name out of the message slot, he saw it was Dr. Reedeth who was trying to get in touch with him. His heart sank. What had happened now?

He punched for the Ginsberg, and the screen lit to show Reedeth in the office which Flamen had seen belooking harassed; his hair was tousled and there were dark rings under his eyes.

“At last!” he snapped. “Get over here and take charge of your ward, will you? Fast! I don’t like people who welsh on their promises the very day they make them-least of all when they expect me to pick up the pieces!”

“What in hell are you talking about?” Flamen blazed back. “And I don’t like your manner-”

“Didn’t you contract to act as legal guardian for Harry Madison yesterday?” Reedeth broke in.

“Why. Why, of course I did.”

“Didn’t take it very seriously, did you?”

“What do you mean? You assured me he was perfectly sane and able to look after himself, so-”

“So you decided to wait for him to show at your office on Monday morning?” Reedeth’s lip curled. “I should have known. Do you realize he nearly got thrown in the Undertombs? Or don’t you care?”

“Now look here! If he did something criminal while the ink still wasn’t dry on his certificate of sanity, that’s a breach of contract on your side, not on mine!” Flamen felt sweat spring out prickly on his skin, but at the back of his mind was a hesitant jubilation: could this too be a stick to beat Mogshack with?