‘I think they can do a lot more than they appear to be able to,’ Jim said. ‘It’s almost as if they’re marking time, not expending themselves. Not trying. Hell, I’d like to see them try.’
‘So would I,’ Nat said. ‘But we’re not going to be able to get them to try.’
Off in a corner of the hall a television set boomed loudly, and a number of chuppers, both male and female, had wandered over to it to stand inertly in front of it. The TV set, Nat realized, was giving news of some urgent sort. At once he turned his attention that way; something had happened.
‘You hear what the newscaster is saying?’ Jim said in his ear. ‘My god, some damn thing about a war.’
The two of them edged through the throng of chuppers, shoving their way up to the TV set. Molly was already there, already absorbed in listening.
‘It’s a revolution,’ she said stonily to Nat, above the hollow, booming uproar emanating from the TV set’s audio system. ‘Karp — ‘ Her face was drenched with disbelief. ‘The Karps and A.G. Chemie, they tried to seize power, along with the National Police.’
The TV screen showed a smoking, virtually disintegrated ruin, the remains of buildings, an industrial installation of great magnitude that had been all but obliterated. It was, to Nat, unrecognizable.
‘That’s Karp’s Detroit branch,’ Molly managed to tell Nat, above the racket. ‘The military got it. Honest to god, that’s what the announcer just said.’
Jim Planck, studying the screen impassively, said, ‘Who’s winning?’
‘Nobody yet,’ Molly said. ‘Evidently. I don’t know. Listen and see what he says. It’s just broken out, just getting underway.’
The chuppers, listening and watching, had become silent.
The phonograph which had played background music for them to shuffle to had become silent, too. The chuppers, almost all of them now, stood clustered around the TV set, rapt and attentive as they witnessed the scenes of fighting between the armed forces of the USEA and the issue from the barracks of the National Police backed up by the cartel system.
‘ … in California,’ the announcer was spluttering, ‘the West Coast Division of the NP surrendered intact to the Sixth Army under General Hoheit. However in Nevada — ‘
The set showed a street scene, downtown Reno; an army barricade had been hastily erected, and police snipers were firing at it from the windows of the nearby buildings. ‘Ultimately,’ the newscaster said, ‘the fact that the armed forces possess a virtual monopoly in atomic weapons would seem to guarantee them victory. But for the present, we can only … ‘ The newscaster rattled excitedly on, as all over the USEA the mechanical reporting machines coasting about in the areas of conflict gathered data for him.
‘It’s going to be a long fight,’ Jim Planck said suddenly to Nat. He looked grey and tired. ‘I guess we’re darn lucky we’re here, out of the way,’ he murmured, half to himself. ‘It’s a good time to lay low.’
The screen showed a clash between a police patrol and an army unit, now; the two fired rapidly at each other, scurrying for cover as shots zinged from their automatic small arms. A soldier pitched forward on his face and then so did a grey NP man.
Next to Nat Flieger a chupper, watching absorbedly, nudged the chupper standing beside him. The two chuppers, both males, smiled at each other. A covert, meaningful smile. Nat saw it, saw the expression of their two faces. And then he realized that all the chuppers had become brighteyed with the same secret pleasure.
What’s going on here? Nat wondered.
Beside him, Jim Planck said softly, ‘Nat, my god. They’ve been waiting for this.’
So this is it, Nat realized with a thrill of fear. The emptiness, the dull listlessness; that had gone. The chuppers were alert now as they viewed the flickering TV image and listened to the excited news announcer. What does this mean to them? Nat wondered as he studied their emotion-laden, eager faces. It means, he decided, that they have a chance.
This might be their opportunity.
We’re destroying each other before their eyes. And — it may provide room for them, a space to squeeze into. Room, not cooped up here in this dreary, tiny enclave, but out in the world itself. Everywhere.
Grinning knowingly at one another the chuppers continued avidly to watch. And listen.
Nat’s fear grew.
The plump, red-headed man who had given Maury and Chic the ride said, ‘This is as far as I’m going, boys. You’ll have to hop out.’ He slowed the car, stopped at the curb. They were in the city, now, off the autobahn. On every side, men and women scampered in panic, seeking shelter. A police car, its windshield shattered, nosed forward cautiously, the men inside bristling with weapons. ‘Better get indoors,’ the red-headed man advised.
Warily, Chic and Maury emerged from the car.
‘My place, The Abraham Lincoln,’ Chic said, ‘is near here. We can walk it. Come on.’ He waved big, overweight Maury ahead and the two of them joined the running mob of frightened, confused people. What a mess, Chic said to himself. I wonder how it’ll wind up. I wonder if our society, our style of life, will survive this.
‘I feel sick at my stomach,’ Maury groaned, puffing along beside him, his face grey from the exertion. ‘I’m — not used to this.’
They reached The Abraham Lincoln. It was undamaged.
At the doorway their sergeants of arms, with a gun, stood beside Vince Strikerock, their identification reader; Vince was checking each person in turn, busy at his official task.
‘Hi, Vince,’ Chic said, when he and Maury arrived at the station.
His brother jerked, raised his head; they regarded each other in silence. At last Vince said, ‘Hi, Chic. Glad to see you’re alive.’
‘Do we get in?’ Chic said.
‘Sure,’ Vince said. He looked away, then; nodding to the sergeant of arms he said to Chic, ‘Go ahead. I’m sure glad the NP didn’t manage to corner you.’ He did not look once at Maury Frauenzimmer; he pretended that Maury was not there.
‘What about me?’ Maury said.
In a strangled voice Vince said, ‘You — can go inside too. As Chic’s special invited guest.’
Behind them the next man in line said with urgent peevishness, ‘Hey, hurry up, will you! It isn’t safe out here.’ He bumped Chic, nudging him on.
Quickly Chic and Maury passed on inside The Abraham Lincoln. A moment later they were ascending by a familiar means: a building elevator. To Chic’s top-floor apartment.
‘I wonder what he got out of it,’ Maury said musingly.
‘Your kid brother, I mean.’
‘Nothing,’ Chic said shortly. ‘Karp is gone. He and a lot of people are finished, now.’ And Vince isn’t the only one I know of that group, he said to himself.
‘Including us,’ Maury said. ‘We’re no better off. Of course I guess a lot depends on who wins.’
‘It doesn’t matter who wins,’ Chic said. Not as far as he could make out, at least. The destruction, the great national disaster, was still there. That was the terrible thing about civil war; no matter how it came out it was still bad. Still a catastrophe. And for everyone.
When they reached the apartment they found the door unlocked. With massive caution Chic opened the door. And peeped inside.
There stood Julie.
‘Chic!’ she said, starting a step or so towards him. Beside her were two big suitcases. ‘I’ve been packing. I’ve made arrangements for you and me to emigrate. I’ve got the tickets … and don’t ask me how because I’ll never tell you.’
Her face was pale but composed; she had dressed up quite a bit and looked, he thought, exceptionally fine. Now she saw Maury. ‘Who is this?’ she asked, faltering.
‘My boss,’ Chic said.
‘I just have two tickets,’ Julie said hesitantly.
‘That’s okay,’ Maury said to her. He beamed at her, to reassure her. ‘I have to stay on Earth. I’ve got a major business enterprise to preside over.’ to Chic he said, ‘I think she’s got a good idea. So this is the girl you told me about on the phone. The reason you were late to work, that morning.’
He slapped Chic genially on the back. ‘Lots of luck to you, old buddy. I guess you’ve proved you’re still young — young enough, anyhow. I envy you.’
Julie said, ‘Our ship leaves in forty-five minutes; I was praying like hell you’d show up here. I tried to get hold of you at work — ‘
‘The NP picked us up,’ Chic told her.
‘The army has control of the space field,’ Julie said. ‘And they’re supervising the arrivals and departures of deep-space ships. So if we can just make it to the field we’ll be all right.’ she added, ‘I put all your money and mine together to buy the tickets; they were incredibly expensive. And with those jalopy jungles gone — ‘