Mrs. Birmingham gladly endured the inter-program announcements because they were in a good cause. And the program, “Pageant of Time,” was well worth any reasonable effort. She always hurried home early on Monday evening; in ten years she hadn’t missed an edition.
A shower of brightly-colored fireworks burst across the screen, and from the speaker issued the rumble of guns. A jagged, slashing line of words cut through the blur of war:
THE PAGEANT OF TIME
Her program had begun. Folding her arms, leaning her head back, Mrs. Birmingham now found herself viewing a table at which sat four dignified gentlemen. A discussion was in progress, and dim words were audible. Over them was superimposed the announcer’s voice.
“Pageant of Time. Ladies and gentlemen, at this table sit four men, each a distinguished authority in his field. They had come together to discuss an issue vital to every citizen of the Morec society. In view of the unusual importance of this program there will be no interruptions, and the discussion, which is already in progress, will proceed without pause until the end of the hour. Our topic for tonight . . .” Visible words grew on the screen.
ACTIVE ASSIMILATION IN THE WORLD TODAY
Mrs. Birmingham was delighted. She had been hearing about active assimilation for some time, and this was her opportunity to learn once and for all what it was. Her lack of information had made her feel out of touch.
“Seated at my right is Doctor Joseph Gleeby, the noted educator, lecturer, writer of numerous books on problems of social values.” A lean middle-aged man, smoking a pipe and rubbing his ear, was shown. “To Doctor Gleeby’s right is Mr. Harold Priar, art critic, architect, frequent contributor to the Encyclopedia Britannica.” A smaller individual was shown, with an intense, serious face. “Seated next to Mr. Priar is Professor Sugermann, whose historical studies rank with those of Gibbon, Schiller, Toynbee. We are very fortunate to have Professor Sugermann with us.” The camera moved forth to show Professor Sugermann’s heavy, solemn features. “And next to Professor Suggermann sits Mr. Thomas L. Gates, lawyer, civic leader, consultant to the Committee for a number of years.”
Now the moderator appeared, and Mrs. Birmingham found herself facing Allen Purcell.
“And I,” Mr., Purcell said, “am Allen Purcell, Director of Telemedia.” He seated himself at the end of the table, by the water pitcher. “Shall we begin, gentlemen, with a few words about the etymology of active assimilation? Just how did Major Streiter develop the policy that was to prove so effective in his dealings with opposition groups?”
“Well, Mr. Purcell,” Professor Sugermann began, coughing importantly and fingering his chin, “the Major had many opportunities to see first-hand the ravages of war on principally agricultural and food-producing areas, such as the livestock regions of the West, the wheat fields of Kansas, the dairy industry of New England. These were all but wiped out, and naturally, as we all know, there was intensive deprivation if not actual starvation. This contributed to a decline of over-all productivity affecting industrial reconstruction. And during this period, of course, com- munications broke down; areas were cut off; anarchy was common.”
“In that connection,” Doctor Gleeby put in, “many of the problems of decline of moral standards inherent in the Age of Waste were vastly intensified by this collapse of what little government there was.”
“Yes indeed,” Professor Sugermann agreed. “So in following this historic pattern, Major Streiter saw the need of finding new sources of food . . . and the soil, as we know, was excessively impregnated with toxic metals, poisons, ash. Most domestic herds had died off.” He gazed upward. “I believe by 1975 there were less than three hundred head of cattle in North America.”
“That sounds right,” Mr. Purcell said agreeably.
“So,” Professor Sugermann continued, “Moral Reclaimers as they operated in the field in the form of teams—” He gestured. “More or less autonomous units; we’re familiar with the technique. . . . Encountered a virtually insoluble problem, that of feeding and caring for the numbers of persons coming across from hostile groups operating in the same area. In that connection I might add that Major Streiter seems to have foreseen long in advance the continual decline of animal husbandry that was to occur during the next decade. He took steps to anticipate the decline, and of course historians have made a big point of the aptness of those steps.”
Professor Sugermann sighed, contemplated his clasped hands, then went on.
“To fully grasp their situation, we must picture ourselves as living essentially without government, in a world of brute force. What concepts of morality existed were found only within the Reclaimers’ units; outside of that it was dog-eat-dog, animal against animal. A kind of jungle struggle for survival, with no holds barred.”
The table and five men dissolved; in their place appeared familiar scenes of the first postwar years. Ruins, squalor, barbarians snarling over scraps of meat. Dried pelts hanging from slatternly hovels. Flies. Filth.
“Large numbers of opposition groups,” Professor Sugermann continued, “were falling into our hands daily, thus complicating an already catastrophic problem of creating a stable diet in the devastated areas. Morec was on the ascendancy, but nobody was so idealistic as to believe the problem of creating a unified cultural milieu could be solved overnight. And the really sobering factor, evidently recognized early by the Major, was the so-called ‘impossible’ faction: those groups who could never be won over, and who were doing the most harm. Since Reclaimers were principally operating against those ‘impossibles,’ it was only natural that in the plan worked out by Major Streiter these ‘impossibles’ would be the most natural sources for assimilation. Further—”
“I must disagree,” Mr. Gates interrupted, “if I may, Professor Sugermann. Isn’t it true that active assimilation had already occurred, prior to the Morec Plan? The Major was fundamentally an empiricist; he saw assimilation occurring spontaneously and he was quick to take advantage of it.”
“I’m afraid that doesn’t do justice to the Major’s planning ability,” Mr. Priar spoke up. “That is, you’re making it sound as if active assimilation just—happened. But we know active assimilation was basic, preceding the autofac system which eventually supplanted it.”
“I think we have two points of view here,” Mr. Purcell, the moderator, said. “But in any case we agree that Major Streiter did utilize active assimilation early in the postwar years to solve the problem of feeding rural populations and of reducing the numbers of hostile and ‘impossible’ elements.”
“Yes,” Doctor Gleeby said. “By 1997 at least ten thousand ‘impossibles’ had been assimilated. And numerous byproducts of economic value were being obtained: glue, gelatins, hides, hair.”
“Can we fix a date for the first official assimilation?” Mr. Purcell asked.
“Yes,” Professor Sugermann said. “It was May of 1987 that one hundred Russian ‘impossibles’ were captured, killed, and then processed by Reclaimers operating in the Ukrainian area. I believe Major Streiter himself divided an ‘impossible’ with his family, on the Fourth of July.”
“I suppose boiling was the usual processing method,” Mr. Priar commented.
“Boiling, and of course, frying. In this case Mrs. Streiter’s recipe was used, calling for broiling.”
“So the term ‘active assimilation,’ “ Mr. Purcell said, “can historically be used to encompass any form of killing, cooking, and eating of hostile groups, whether it be by boiling, or frying, or broiling, or baking; in short, any culinary method apropos, with or without the preserving of by-products such as skin, bones, fingernails, for commercial use.”
“Exactly,” Doctor Gleeby said, nodding. “Although it should be pointed out that the indiscriminate eating of hostile elements without an official—”
Whamp! went the television set, and Mrs. Birmingham sat up with dismay. The image had gone dead; the screen was dark.
The discussion of “active assimilation” had been plunged abruptly off the air.
CHAPTER 23
Allen said: “They cut off our power.”
“The lines,” Gleeby answered, fumbling around in the darkness of the office. All the lights of the Telemedia building had vanished; the TV transmitter above them was silent, and projection had ceased. “There’s emergency generating equipment, independent of city power.”
“Takes a lot to run a transmitter,” Sugermann said, pulling aside the window blinds and peering out at the evening lanes below. “Getabouts everywhere. Cohorts, I think.”
Allen and Gleeby made their way down the stairs to the emergency generators, guided by Allen’s cigarette lighter. Gates followed; with him was a technician from the transmitter.
“We can have it back on in ten or fifteen minutes,” the TV technician said, inspecting the generator capacities. “But it won’t hold. The drain’s too great for these; it’ll be on for awhile and then—like now.”
“Do the best you can,” Allen said. He wondered how much of the projection had been understood. “You think we made our Morec?” he asked Sugermann.
“Our un-Morec,” Sugermann said. He smiled crookedly. “They were standing by for the point-of-no-return. So we must have made it clear.”