“It stands above all of us. It’s bigger than any man or any group of men. Yet, in a way it’s everybody.”
“It’s nobody. When you have a friend he’s a particular person, not a class or a work-group, isn’t he? You don’t have class 4-7 as your friend, do you? When you go to bed with a woman, it’s a particular woman, isn’t it? Everything else in the universe has collapsed . . . shifting, random, purposeless gray smoke you can’t put your hands on. The only thing that’s left is people; your family, your friends, your mistress, your protector. You can touch them, be close to them . . . breathing _life_ that’s warm and solid. Perspiration, skin and hair, saliva, breath, bodies. Taste, touch, smell, colors. Good God, there has to be something you can grab hold of! What is there, beyond people? What is there you can depend on besides your protector?”
“Depend on yourself.”
“Reese takes care of me! He’s big and strong.”
“He’s your father,” Benteley said. “And I hate fathers.”
“You’re—psychotic. There’s something wrong with you.”
“I know,” Benteley agreed. “I’m a sick man. And the more I see, the sicker I get. I’m so sick I think everybody else is sick and I’m the only healthy person. That’s pretty bad off, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Eleanor said breathlessly.
“I’d like to pull this whole thing down with a big loud crash. But I don’t have to; it’s collapsing by itself. Everything is thin and empty and metallic. Games, lotteries—a bright kid’s toy! All that holds it together is the oath. Positions for sale, cynicism, luxury and poverty, indifference . . . noisy tv sets shrilling away. A man goes out to murder another man and everybody claps their hands and watches. What do we believe in? What do we have? Brilliant criminals working for powerful criminals. Loyalty we swear away to plastic busts.”
“The bust is a symbol. And it’s not for sale. That’s one thing you can’t buy and sell.” Her green eyes flashed triumphantly. “You know that, Ted. It’s the most precious thing we have. Loyalty between us, between protector and serf, between a man and his mistress.”
“Maybe,” Benteley said slowly, “a person should be loyal to an ideal.”
“An ideal what?”
Benteley’s mind refused to turn out an answer. The wheels, the gears and rods, were stuck. Unfamiliar, incomprehensible thoughts were crowding in, unwanted and unasked-for, throwing the mechanism into grinding uncertainty. Where had the torrent come from? He didn’t know. “That’s all we have left,” he said finally. “Our oaths. Our loyalty. That’s the cement that keeps this whole thing from collapsing. And what’s it worth? How good is it? Not much good. It’s crumbling away while we stand here.”
Eleanor gasped. “It isn’t!”
“Is Moore loyal to Verrick?”
“No! That’s why I left him. Him and his theories. That’s all he’s loyal to, them and Herb Moore.” Her good-luck charms danced furiously. “I loathe that!”
“Verrick isn’t loyal,” Benteley said carefully. He tried to measure the girl’s reaction; her face was stunned and colorless. “It isn’t Moore; don’t blame him. He’s out for what he can get. So is everybody else. So is Reese Verrick. Any one of them would throw away his oath to get hold of a little more loot, a little more pull. It’s one big scramble for the top. They’re all struggling to get up there-and nothing is going to stand in their way. When all the cards are turned up, you’ll see how little loyalty counts.”
“Verrick would never break his oath! He wouldn’t let down the people depending on him!”
“He already has. He broke a moral code when he let me swear on. You were mixed up with it; you knew. I took my Oath in good faith.”
“Oh, God,” Eleanor said wearily. “You’ll never forget that, will you? You’re angry because you think you were made a fool of.”
“It’s more than that; don’t kid yourself. It’s the whole weak miserable structure showing through. You’ll find out, someday. I know now; I’m all prepared; What else can you expect in a society of games and quizzes and assassination?”
“Don’t blame Verrick. The Challenge was set up years ago when the whole bottle system, the whole M-game, was worked out and set into motion.”
“Verrick’s not even playing the M-game square. He’s trying to beat it with this Pellig strategy.”
“It’ll work, won’t it?”
“Probably.”
“Well, then what are you complaining about? Isn’t that what’s important?” Eleanor grabbed his arm fiercely. “Come on, forget it. You worry too damn much. Moore talks too much and you worry too much. Enjoy yourself—tomorrow’s the big day.”
She poured drinks and brought Benteley his. He sat sipping moodily, Eleanor beside him on the couch. In the half-light of the apartment the girl’s crimson hair glowed and sparkled. She had drawn her legs up under her, Above each ear the lead-gray spot had faded slightly; but they were still there. Leaning against Benteley, her eyes closed, glass cupped in her red-tipped fingers, she said softly,” I want you to tell me. Are you going along with us?”
Benteley was silent a moment. “Yes,” he said finally.
Eleanor sighed. “Thank God. I’m so glad.”
Benteley leaned over and set down his glass on the low table. “I swore on; I took an oath to Verrick. I don’t have any choice, unless I want to break my oath and run out on him.”
“It’s been done.”
“I’ve never broken my oath. I got fed up with Oiseau-Lyre years ago but I never tried to get away. I could have; I’d take the risk of being caught and killed. I accept the law that gives a protector the power of life and death over escaped serfs. But I don’t think an oath should be broken, by either the serf or the protector.”
“I thought you said it was crumbling.”
“It is. But I don’t want to help it along.”
Eleanor set her glass down and reached up to put her smooth bare arms around his neck. “What kind of a life have you had? What have you done? Have you lived with very many women?”
“A few.”
“What were they like?”
Benteley shrugged. “Various kinds.”
“Were they nice?”
“I guess so.”
“Who was the last?”
Benteley thought back. “A few months ago. A class 7-9 girl named Julie.”
Eleanor’s green eyes were fixed on him intently. “Tell me what she was like.”
“Small. Pretty.”
“Very much like me?”
“Your hair is nicer.” He touched the girl’s soft, flame-red hair. “You have very nice hair. And eyes.” He took her tight against him and held her for a long time. “You’re very nice.”
The girl’s small fist was clutched around the charms that rested between her breasts. “It’s all coming out right. Luck, very good luck.” She stretched up to kiss him on the mouth; her warm, intense face vibrated against his for a moment and then she sank back down with a sigh. “It’s going to be good, all of us working here together, being together.”
Benteley said nothing.
After a time Eleanor detached herself from him and lit a cigarette. She sat gazing seriously at him, arms folded, chin up, eyes large and solemn. “You’re going a long way, Ted. Verrick thinks a lot of you. I was so afraid when you did that, last night. When you said those things. But he liked it. He respects you; he thinks you have something on the ball. And he’s right! There’s something unique and strong inside you.” She added pathetically, “Golly, I wish I could teep you. But it’s gone, it’s really gone.”
“I wonder if Verrick knows how much you gave up.”
“Verrick has more important things to think about.” Her voice caught with sudden excitement.
“Tomorrow maybe well be back in! Things will be the way they were before, the way you wanted them to be. Won’t that be wonderful?”
“I guess so.”
Eleanor put down her cigarette and leaned over quickly to kiss him. “And you really will be along with us? You’ll really help operate Pellig?”
Benteley nodded faintly. “Yes.”
“Then everything’s perfect.” She gazed up hungrily into his face, green eyes hot and excited in the semi-gloom. Her breath came quick and harsh, sweet-scented in his face. “Are these rooms all right? Are they large enough? Do you have many things to bring?”
“Not many,” Benteley said. A dull, heavy weight seemed to hang over him, a listless torpor. “This is fine.”
With a contented sigh, Eleanor slid away from him and with a single lithe motion swept up her glass. She snapped off the lamp and lay back happily against him. The only light was the glow of her cigarette resting in the little copper ashtray. The deep low color of burning .flame radiated from the girl’s hair and lips. The nipples of her breasts seemed darkly luminous in the twilight. After a time Benteley turned to her, stirred by the steady lights of her body.