CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“I DON’T understand about Pittsburgh,” said Finnerty. “I knew Seattle and Minneapolis were touch-and-go, but Pittsburgh!” “And St. Louis and Chicago,” said Paul, shaking his head. “And Birmingham and Boston and New York,” said Lasher, smiling sadly. He seemed curiously at peace, inexplicably satisfied. “Pfft!” said Finnerty. “Ilium came off like clockwork, anyway, and Salt Lake and Oakland,” said Professor von Neumann. “So I think we can say that the theory of attack was essentially valid. The execution, of course, was something else again.” “It always is,” said Lasher. “What makes you so cheery?” said Paul. “Would a good cry make you feel better, Doctor?” said Lasher. “Now all we have to do is close ranks with Salt Lake City and Oakland, and strangle the country into submission,” said Finnerty. “I wish now we’d sent one of our Ilium people out to get EPICAC,” said von Neumann. “EPICAC was worth three Pittsburghs.” “Too bad about the Roswell Moose, all right,” said Lasher. “D-71 said they were crazy about the idea of getting EPICAC.” “Too crazy,” said Paul. “Nitro’s tricky enough stuff, without having crazy men trying to get it into Coke bottles,” said Finnerty. The four thought-chiefs of the Ghost Shirt Society were seated about what had once been Paul’s desk, the works manager’s desk in the Ilium Works. The revolution was not yet a day old. It was early in the morning, before sunrise, but here and there burning buildings made patches of Ilium as bright and hot as tropical noon. “I wish they’d attack, and get it over with,” said Paul. “It’ll take them a little while to get their nerve back, after what the Knights of Kandahar did to the state police on Griffin Boulevard,” said Finnerty. He sighed. “By God, if only we’d had a few more outfits like that in Pittsburgh -” “And St. Louis,” said Paul, “and Seattle and Minneapolis and Boston and -” “Let’s talk about something else,” said Finnerty. “How’s the arm, Paul?” “Not bad,” said Paul, stroking the makeshift splint. The Messiah of the Ghost Shirt Society had had his left arm broken by a rock while exercising his magnetism on a crowd interested in seeing the power station blown up. “How’s the head, Professor?” “Ringing,” said von Neumann, adjusting his bandage. He had been struck by the Sacred Mace of The Order of the Aurora Borealis while giving a crowd reasons for not felling a two-hundred-foot radio tower. “Glockenspiel or carillon?” said Lasher. “And how are your own contusions and abrasions, Ed?” Finnerty twisted his neck and raised his arms experimentally. “Nothing, really. If the pain gets any worse, I can simply kill myself.” He had been floored and trampled by stampeding Moose and Elks while explaining that the Works should be kept intact until a cool decision could be made as to which machines should be destroyed, which retained. Fire spurted skyward from Homestead. “Keeping the map right up to the minute, Professor?” said Lasher. Professor von Neumann looked out at the new blaze through field glasses, and made a black X on the map before him. “Post office, most likely.” The map of the city had been clean and crackling at the start of the campaign, with a dozen small red circles indicating the primary objectives of the Ilium Putsch: the police station, the courthouse, communications centers, sites for roadblocks, the Ilium Works. After these objectives were taken, with a minimum of bloodshed and damage, the plan of operations declared, the systematic replacement of automatic control devices by human beings was to begin. The more important of these secondary objectives were circled in green. But now the map was smudged and limp. Overlying the scattered constellation of red and green circles was a black, continuous smear of X’s that marked what had been taken, and, moreover, destroyed. Lasher glanced at his watch. “I’ve got 4 A.M. That right?” “Who knows?” said Finnerty. “Can’t you see the City Hall clock from there?” “They got that hours ago.” “And they’re likely to be after your watch any minute,” said Paul. “Better put it back in your pocket.” “What gets me are the specialists,” said Finnerty. “Some guys seem to have it in for just one kind of machine, and leave everything else alone. There’s a little colored guy going around town with a shotgun, blasting nothing but those little traffic safety boxes.” “Lord,” said Paul, “I didn’t think it’d be like this.” “You mean losing?” said Lasher. “Losing, winning – whatever this mess is.” “It has all the characteristics of a lynching,” said the professor. “It’s on such a big scale, though, I suppose genocide is closer. The good die with the bad – the flush toilets with the automatic lathe controls.” “I wonder if things would have been much different if it hadn’t been for the liquor,” said Paul. “You can’t ask men to attack pillboxes cold sober,” said Finnerty. “And you can’t ask them to stop when they’re drunk,” said Paul. “Nobody said it wasn’t going to be messy,” said Lasher. A terrific explosion lifted the floor and dropped it. “Boy!” said Luke Lubbock, standing guard in what had been Katharine Finch’s office. “What was it, Luke?” called Lasher. “Gasoline storage tanks. Boy!” ” ‘Ray,” said Paul dismally. “People of Ilium!” boomed a voice from the sky. “People of Ilium!” Paul, Lasher, Finnerty, and von Neumann hurried to the opening where the floor-to-ceiling window had once been. Looking up, they saw a robot helicopter in the sky, its belly and blades reddened by the fires below. “People of Ilium, lay down your arms!” said its loudspeaker. “Oakland and Salt Lake City have been restored to order. Your cause is lost. Overthrow your false leaders. ” “You are completely surrounded, cut off from the rest of the world. The blockade will not be lifted until Proteus, Lasher, Finnerty, and von Neumann are turned over to the authorities beyond the Griffin Boulevard roadblock.” “We could bomb and strafe you, but that is not the American way. We could send in tanks, but that is not the American way.” “This is an ultimatum: surrender your false leaders and lay down your arms within the next six hours, or suffer in the ruins of your own making for the next six months, cut off from the rest of the world. Click.” “People of Ilium, lay down your arms! Oakland and Salt Lake City have been re -” Luke Lubbock aimed his rifle and fired. “Beeby dee bobble dee beezle!” said the loudspeaker shrilly. “Noozle ah reeble beejee boo.”