“Countrymen,” the professor read – “Admittedly, we are all in this together. But – “You, more than any of us, have spoken highly of progress recently, spoken highly of the good brought by great and continued material change. “You, the engineers and managers and bureaucrats, almost alone among men of higher intelligence, have continued to believe that the condition of man improves in direct ratio to the energy and devices for using energy put at his disposal. You believed this through the three most horrible wars in history, a monumental demonstration of faith. “That you continue to believe it now, in the most mortifying peacetime in history, is at least disturbing, even to the slow-witted, and downright terrifying to the thoughtful. “Man has survived Armageddon in order to enter the Eden of eternal peace, only to discover that everything he had looked forward to enjoying there, pride, dignity, self-respect, work worth doing, has been condemned as unfit for human consumption. “Again, let me say we are all in this together, but the rest of us, for what we perceive as good, plain reasons, have changed our minds about the divine right of machines, efficiency, and organization, just as men of another age changed their minds about the divine right of kings, and about the divine rights of many other things. “During the past three wars, the right of technology to increase in power and scope was unquestionably, in point of national survival, almost a divine right. Americans owe their lives to superior machines, techniques, organization, and managers and engineers. For these means of surviving the wars, the Ghost Shirt Society and I thank God. But we cannot win good lives for ourselves in peacetime by the same methods we used to win battles in wartime. The problems of peace are altogether more subtle. “I deny that there is any natural or divine law requiring that machines, efficiency, and organization should forever increase in scope, power, and complexity, in peace as in war. I see the growth of these now, rather, as the result of a dangerous lack of law. “The time has come to stop the lawlessness in that part of our culture which is your special responsibility. “Without regard for the wishes of men, any machines or techniques or forms of organization that can economically replace men do replace men. Replacement is not necessarily bad, but to do it without regard for the wishes of men is lawlessness. “Without regard for the changes in human life patterns that may result, new machines, new forms of organization, new ways of increasing efficiency, are constantly being introduced. To do this without regard for the effects on life patterns is lawlessness. “I am dedicated, and the members of the Ghost Shirt Society are dedicated, to bringing this lawlessness to an end, to give the world back to the people. We are prepared to use force to end the lawlessness, if other means fail. “I propose that men and women be returned to work as controllers of machines, and that the control of people by machines be curtailed. I propose, further, that the effects of changes in technology and organization on life patterns be taken into careful consideration, and that the changes be withheld or introduced on the basis of this consideration. “These are radical proposals, extremely difficult to put into effect. But the need for their being put into effect is far greater than all of the difficulties, and infinitely greater than the need for our national holy trinity, Efficiency, Economy, and Quality. “Men, by their nature, seemingly, cannot be happy unless engaged in enterprises that make them feel useful. They must, therefore, be returned to participation in such enterprises. “I hold, and the members of the Ghost Shirt Society hold: “That there must be virtue in imperfection, for Man is imperfect, and Man is a creation of God. “That there must be virtue in frailty, for Man is frail, and Man is a creation of God. “That there must be virtue in inefficiency, for Man is inefficient, and Man is a creation of God. “That there must be virtue in brilliance followed by stupidity, for Man is alternately brilliant and stupid, and Man is a creation of God. “You perhaps disagree with the antique and vain notion of Man’s being a creation of God. “But I find it a far more defensible belief than the one implicit in intemperate faith in lawless technological progress – namely, that man is on earth to create more durable and efficient images of himself, and, hence, to eliminate any justification at all for his own continued existence. Ў@Ў@Ў@”Faithfully yours, Ў@Ў@Ў@”Do ctor Paul Proteus.” Ў@Ў@Ў@ Professor von Neumann took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and stared at a paper clip before him, waiting for someone to say something. “Yeah,” said the transportation chairman tentatively. “Kinda long-haired, though, ain’t it?” “Sounded purty good,” said the security chairman, “but shun’t there be sumpin’ in there ’bout – Well, I’m no good at words, but somebody else could fix it up. I don’t know how to say it good, exactly.” “Go on, try,” said Finnerty. “Well, it just don’t seem like nobody feels he’s worth a crap to nobody no more, and it’s a hell of a screwy thing, people gettin’ buggered by things they made theirselves.” “That’s in there,” said Lasher. Paul coughed politely. “Uh, you want me to sign it?” Von Neumann looked surprised. “Heavens, they were signed and mailed out hours ago, while you were asleep.” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, Paul,” said the professor absently. “You don’t expect that they’ll really go along with us on the new controls, do you?” said the nervous man. “Not for a minute,” said Lasher. “But it will certainly get word around about us. When the big day comes, we want everybody to know that ours is a great, big bandwagon.” “Cops!” cried someone from far away in the network of chambers. Gunfire boomed, echoed and crackled in the distance. “The west exit!” commanded Lasher. Papers were snatched from the table, stuffed into envelopes; lanterns were blown out. Paul felt himself swept along through the dark corridors by the fleeing crowd. Doors opened and shut, people stumbled and bumped into pillars and one another, but made no outcry. Suddenly, Paul realized that the sound of the others’ feet had stopped, and that he was following only the echoes of his own. Panting, stumbling in a nightmare of the policemen’s echoing shouts and running footfalls, he blundered about the passages and chambers, coming again and again to barriers of dead rock. At last, as he turned away from one of these, he was dazzled by a flashlight beam. “There’s one, Joe. Get him!” Paul charged past the flashlight, swinging both fists. Something crashed against the side of his head, and he sprawled on the wet floor. “Here’s one that didn’t get away, by God,” he heard a voice say. “Really socked him one, didn’t you?” “Don’t pay to mess around with no stinking sabotoors, by God.” “Must be one of the small fry, eh?” “Sure. Whadja expect? You think this was Proteus walking around in little circles all by hisself, like he don’t know which way’s up? Nossir, boy. Proteus is in the next county by now, lookin’ out for his own sweet tail first, last, and always.” “Sabotagin’ bastard.” “Yeah. O.K., you, on your feet and shag your tail.” “What happened?” mumbled Paul. “Police. You just got brained for savin’ Proteus’ hide. Why’n’t you wise up? He’s nuts, guy. Hell, he’s got it in his head he’s gonna be king.”