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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Junkmakers, by Albert R. Teichner
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Junkmakers
+
+Author: Albert R. Teichner
+
+Illustrator: West
+
+Release Date: January 16, 2010 [EBook #30988]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE JUNKMAKERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Robert Cicconetti, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                         Transcriber's Note:
+
+   This etext was produced from If: Worlds of Science Fiction July 1961.
+   Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+   copyright on this publication was renewed.
+
+
+                            THE JUNKMAKERS
+
+
+                          BY ALBERT TEICHNER
+
+
+     ERIC WAS THE BEST ROBOT THEY'D EVER HAD--PERFECTLY TRAINED,
+     EVER THOUGHTFUL, A JOY TO OWN. NATURALLY THEY HAD TO DESTROY
+     HIM!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+Wendell Hart had drifted, rather than plunged, into the underground
+movement. Later, discussing it with other members of the Savers'
+Conspiracy, he found they had experienced the same slow, almost casual
+awakening. His own, though, had come at a more appropriate time, just
+a few weeks before the Great Ritual Sacrifice.
+
+The Sacrifice took place only once a decade, on High Holy Day at dawn
+of the spring equinox. For days prior to it joyous throngs of workers
+helped assemble old vehicles, machine tools and computers in the
+public squares, crowning each pile with used, disconnected robots. In
+the evening of the Day they proudly made their private heaps on the
+neat green lawns of their homes. These traditionally consisted of
+household utensils, electric heaters, air conditioners and the family
+servant.
+
+The wealthiest--considered particularly blessed--even had two or three
+automatic servants beyond the public contribution, which they
+destroyed in private. Their more average neighbors crowded into their
+gardens for the awesome festivities. The next morning everyone could
+return to work, renewed by the knowledge that the Festival of Acute
+Shortages would be with them for months.
+
+Like everyone else, Wendell had felt his sluggish pulse gaining new
+life as the time drew nearer.
+
+A cybernetics engineer and machine tender, he was down to ten hours a
+week of work. Many others in the luxury-gorged economy had even
+smaller shares of the purposeful activities that remained. At night he
+dreamed of the slagger moving from house to house as it burned, melted
+and then evaporated each group of junked labor-blocking devices. He
+even had glorious daydreams about it. Walking down the park side of
+his home block, he was liable to lose all contact with the outside
+world and peer through the mind's eye alone at the climactic
+destruction.
+
+Why, he sometimes wondered, are all these things so necessary to our
+resurrection?
+
+Marie had the right answer for him, the one she had learned by rote in
+early childhood: "All life moves in cycles. Creation and progress
+must be preceded by destruction. In ancient times that meant we had to
+destroy each other; but for the past century our inherent need for
+negative moments has been sublimated--that's the word the news
+broadcasts use--into proper destruction." His wife smiled. "I'm only
+giving the moral reason, of course. The practical one's obvious."
+
+Obvious it was, he had to concede. Men needed to work, not out of
+economic necessity any more but for the sake of work itself. Still a
+man had to wonder....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He had begun to visit the Public Library Archives, poring over musty
+references that always led to maddeningly frustrating dead ends. For
+the past century nothing really informative seemed to have been
+written on the subject.
+
+"You must have government authorization," the librarian explained when
+he asked for older references. Which, naturally, made him add a little
+suspicion to his already large dose of wonder.
+
+"You're tampering with something dangerous," Marie warned. "It would
+make more sense for you to take long-sleep pills until the work cycle
+picks up."
+
+"I _will_ get to see those early references," he said through clenched
+teeth.
+
+He did.
+
+All he had needed to say at the library was that his work in sociology
+required investigation of some twentieth century files. The librarian,
+a tall, gaunt man, had given him a speculative glance. "Of course, you
+don't have government clearance.... But we get so few inquiries in
+sociology that I'm willing to offer a little encouragement." He
+sighed. "Don't get many inquiries altogether. Most people just can't
+stand reading. You might be interested to know this--one of the best
+headings to research in sociology is _Conspicuous consumption_."
+
+Then it was Wendell's turn to glance speculatively. The older man,
+around a healthy hundred and twenty-five, had a look of earnest
+dedication about him that commanded respect as well as confidence.
+
+"Conspicuous consumption? An odd combination of words. Never heard of
+that before. I will look it up."
+
+The librarian was nervous as he led his visitor into a reference
+booth. "That's about all the help I can offer. If anything comes up,
+just ring for me. Burnett's the name. Uh--you won't mention I put you
+on the file without authorization, I hope."
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+As soon as he was alone he typed _Conspicuous consumption_ into the
+query machine.
+
+It started grinding out long bibliographical sheets as well as
+cross-references to _Obsolescence, Natural_; _Obsolescence,
+Technological_; _Obsolescence, Planned_, plus even odder items such as
+_Waste-making, Art of_ and _Production, Stimulated velocity of_. How
+did such disparate subjects tie in with each other?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+By the end of the afternoon he began to see, if only dimly, to what
+the unending stream of words on the viewer pointed.
+
+For centuries ruling classes had made a habit of conspicuously wasting
+goods and services that were necessities for the mass of men. It was
+the final and highest symbol of social power. By the time of Louis XIV
+the phenomenon had reached its first peak. The second came in the
+twentieth century when mass production permitted millions to devote
+their lives to the acquisition and waste of non-essentials. Hart's
+twenty-second century sensibilities were repelled by the examples
+given. He shuddered at the thought of such anti-social behavior.
+
+But a parallel development was more appealingly positive in its
+implications. As the technological revolution speeded up, devices were
+superseded as soon as produced. The whole last half of the 1900's was
+filled with instances where the drawing board kept outstripping the
+assembly line.
+
+Hart remembered this last change from early school days but the later,
+final development was completely new and shocking to him. Advertising
+had pressured more and more people to replace goods _before_ they wore
+out with other goods that were, essentially, no improvement on their
+predecessors! Eventually just the word "NEW" was enough to trigger
+buying panics.
+
+There had been growing awareness of what was happening, even sporadic
+resistance to it by such varied ideologies as Conservative Thrift,
+Asocial Beatnikism and Radical Inquiry. But, strangely enough, very
+few people had cared. Indeed, anything that diminished consumption was
+viewed as dangerously subversive.
+
+"And rightly so!" was his first, instinctive reaction. His second,
+reasoned one, though, was less certain.
+
+The contradiction started to give him a headache. He hurried from the
+scanning room, overtaxed eyes blinking at the rediscovery of daylight.
+
+Burnett walked him to the door. "Not feeling well?" he inquired.
+
+"I'll be all right. I just need a few days real work." He stopped.
+"No, that's not why. I'm confused. I've been reading crazy things
+about obsolescence. They used to have strange reasons for it. Why,
+some people even said replacements were not always improvements and
+were unnecessary!"
+
+Burnett could not completely hide his pleasure. "You've been getting
+into rather deep stuff."
+
+"Deep--or nonsensical!"
+
+"True. True. Come back tomorrow and read some more."
+
+"Maybe I will." But he was happy to get away from the library
+building.
+
+Marie was horrified when he told her that evening about his studies.
+"Don't go back there," she pleaded. "It's dangerous. It's subversive!
+How could people say such awful things? You remember that Mr. Johnson
+around the corner? He seemed such a nice man, too, until they arrested
+him without giving a reason ... and how messed up he was when he got
+out last year. I'll bet that kind of talk explains the whole thing.
+It's crazy. Everyone knows items start wearing out and they have to be
+replaced."
+
+"I realise that, honey, but it's interesting to speculate. Don't we
+have guaranteed freedom of thought?"
+
+She threw up her hands as if dealing with a child. "Naturally we have
+freedom of thought. But you should have the right thoughts, shouldn't
+you? Wendell, promise me you won't go back to that library."
+
+"Well--"
+
+"Reading's a very risky thing anyway." Her eyes were saucer-round
+with fright. "Please, darling. Promise."
+
+"Sure, you're right, honey. I promise."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He meant it when he said it. But that night, tossing from side to
+side, he felt less certain. In the morning, as he went out, Marie
+asked him where he was going.
+
+"I want to observe the preparations for the Preliminary Rites."
+
+"Now that," she grinned, "is what I call _healthy_ thinking."
+
+For a while he did stand around the Central Plaza along with thousands
+of other idlers, watching the robot dump trucks assemble the piles of
+discarded equipment. The crowd cheered loudly as an enormous crane was
+knocked over on its side.
+
+"There's fifty millions worth out there!" a bystander exulted. "It's
+going to be the biggest Preliminary I've ever seen."
+
+"It certainly will be!" he said, catching a little of the other man's
+enthusiasm despite his previous doubts.
+
+Preliminary Rites were part of the emotion-stoking that preceded the
+Highest Holy Day. Each Rite was greater and more destructive than
+those that had gone before. As tokens of happy loyalty, viewers threw
+hats and watches and stickpins onto the pile just prior to the entry
+of the slaggers. What better way could be found for each man to
+manifest his common humanity?
+
+After a while doubt started assailing him again, and Hart found
+himself returning almost against his will to the Library Building.
+Burnett greeted him cordially. "To-day's visit is completely legal,"
+he said. "Anyone doing olden time research is automatically authorized
+if he has been here before."
+
+"I hope my thought can be as legal," Hart blurted out. "Well--that was
+just a joke."
+
+"Oh, I can recognize a joke when I hear one, my friend."
+
+Hart went to his booth, feeling the man's eyes measuring him more
+intently than ever. It was almost a welcome relief to start reading
+the reference scanner once more.
+
+But not for long. As the wider pattern unfolded, his anxiety state
+intensified.
+
+It was becoming perfectly obvious that many, many replacements used to
+be made long before they were needed. And it was still true. _I should
+not be thinking such thoughts_, he told himself, _I should be outside
+in the Plaza, being normal and human_.
+
+But he could see how it had come about, step by step. First there had
+been pressure from the ruling echelons, many of whose members only
+maintained their status through excessive production. Then, much more
+important, there had been the willful blindness of the masses who
+wanted to keep their cozy, familiar treadmills going.
+
+He slammed down the _off_ button and went out to the librarian's desk.
+"Do people want to work all the time," he said, "for the sake of work
+alone?"
+
+He immediately regretted the question. But Burnett did not seem to
+mind. "You've only stated the positive reason, Mr. Hart. The negative
+one could be stronger--the fear of what they would have to do if they
+did not have to work much over a long period."
+
+"What would it mean?"
+
+"Why, they would have to start thinking! Most people don't mind
+thought if it's concentrated in a narrow range. But if they have to
+think in a broad range to keep boredom away--no, that's too high a
+price for most of them! They avoid it when they can. And under present
+circumstances they can." He stopped. "Of course that's a purely
+hypothetical fiction I'm constructing."
+
+Hart shook his head. "It sounds awfully real to be purely--" He, too,
+caught himself up. "Of course, you're only positing a fiction."
+
+Burnett started putting his desk papers away. "I'm leaving now. The
+Preliminary begins soon. Want to come?"
+
+The man's face was stolidly blank except for his brown eyes which
+burned like a zealot's. Fascinated by them, Hart agreed. It would be
+best to return anyway. Some of the bystanders had looked too curiously
+at him when he had left. Who would willingly leave a Rite when it was
+approaching its climax?
+
+
+II
+
+The Plaza was now thronged and the sacrificial pile towered over a
+hundred feet in the cleared center area. Then, as the first collective
+_Ah!_ arose, a giant slagger lumbered in from the east, the direction
+prescribed for such commencements. Long polarity arms glided smoothly
+out of the central mechanism and reached the length for Total
+Destruction.
+
+"That's the automatic setting," parents explained to their children.
+
+"When?" the children demanded eagerly.
+
+"Any moment now."
+
+Then the unforeseen occurred.
+
+There was a rumbling from inside the pile and a huge jagged patchwork
+of metal shot out, smashing both arms. The slagger teetered, swaying
+more and more violently from side to side until it collapsed on its
+side. The rumbling grew. And then the pile, like a mechanical cancer,
+ripped the slagger apart and then absorbed it.
+
+The panicking crowd fell back. Somewhere a child began crying,
+provoking more hubbub. "Sabotage!" people were crying. "Let's get
+away!"
+
+Nothing like this had ever happened before. But Hart knew instantly
+what had caused it. Some high-level servo mechanisms had not been
+thoroughly disconnected. They had repaired their damages, then imposed
+their patterns on the material at hand.
+
+A second slagger came rushing into the square. It discharged
+immediately; and the pile finally collapsed and disintegrated as it
+was supposed to.
+
+The crowd was too shocked to feel the triumph it had come for, but
+Hart could not share their horror. Burnett eyed him. "Better look
+indignant," he said. "They'll be out for blood. Somebody must have
+sabotaged the setup."
+
+"Catch the culprits!" he shouted, joining the crowd around him. "Stop
+anti-social acts!"
+
+"Stop anti-social acts!" roared Burnett; and, in a whisper: "Hart,
+let's get out of here."
+
+As they pushed their way through the milling crowd, a loudspeaker boomed
+out: "Return home in peace. The instincts of the people are good. Healthy
+destruction forever! The criminals will be tracked down ... if they
+exist."
+
+"A terrible thing, friend," a woman said to them.
+
+"Terrible, friend," Burnett agreed. "Smash the anti-social elements
+without mercy!"
+
+Three children were clustered together, crying. "I wanted to set the
+right example for them," said the father to anyone who would listen.
+"They'll _never_ get over this!"
+
+Hart tried to console them. "Next week is High Holy Day," he said, but
+the bawling only increased.
+
+The two men finally reached a side avenue where the crowd was thinner.
+"Come with me," Burnett ordered, "I want you to meet some people."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He sounded as if he were instituting military discipline but Hart,
+still dazed, willingly followed. "It wasn't such a terrible thing," he
+said, listening to the distant uproar. "Why don't they shut up!"
+
+"They will--eventually." Burnett marched straight ahead and looked
+fixedly in the same direction.
+
+"The thing could have gobbled up the city if there hadn't been a
+second slagger!" said a lone passerby.
+
+"Nonsense," Burnett muttered under his breath. "You know that, Hart.
+Any self-regulating mechanism reaches a check limit sooner than that."
+
+"It has to."
+
+They turned into a large building and went up to the fiftieth floor.
+"My apartment," said Burnett as he opened the door.
+
+There were about fifteen people in the large living room. They rose,
+smiling, to greet their host. "Let's save the self-congratulations for
+later," snapped Burnett. "These were merely our own preliminaries.
+We're not out of the woods yet. This, ladies and gentlemen, is our
+newest recruit. He has seen the light. I have fed him basic data and
+I'm sure we're not making a mistake with him."
+
+Hart was about to demand what was going on when a short man with eyes
+as intense as Burnett's proposed a toast to "the fiasco in the Plaza."
+Everyone joined in and he did not have to ask.
+
+"Burnett, I don't quite understand why I am here but aren't you taking
+a chance with me?"
+
+"Not at all. I've followed your reactions since your first visit to
+the library. Others here have also--when you were completely unaware
+of being observed. The gradual shift in viewpoint is familiar to us.
+We've all been through it. The really important point is that you no
+longer like the kind of world into which you were born."
+
+"That's true, but no one can change it."
+
+"We _are_ changing it," said a thin-faced young woman. "I work in a
+servo lab and--."
+
+"Miss Wright, time enough for that later," interrupted Burnett. "What
+we must know now, Mr. Hart, is how much you're willing to do for your
+new-found convictions? It will be more work than you've ever dreamed
+possible."
+
+He felt as exhilarated as he did in the months after High Holy Day.
+"I'm down to under ten hours labor a week. I'd do anything for your
+group if I could get more work."
+
+Burnett gave him a hearty handshake of congratulation ... but was
+frowning as he did so. "You're doing the right thing--for the wrong
+reason. Every member of this group could tell you why. Miss Wright,
+since you feel like talking, explain the matter."
+
+"Certainly. Mr. Hart, we are engaged in an activity of so-called
+subversion for a positive reason, not merely to avoid insufficient
+work load. Your reason shows you are still being moved by the values
+that you despise. We _want_ to cut the work-production load on people.
+We want them to _face_ the problem of leisure, not flee it."
+
+"There's a heart-warming paradox here," Burnett explained. "Every
+excess eventually undermines itself. Everybody in the movement starts
+by wanting to act for their beliefs because work appears so attractive
+for its own sake. I was that way, too, until I studied the dead art
+of philosophy."
+
+"Well--" Hart sat down, deeply troubled. "Look, I deplore destroying
+equipment that is still perfectly useful as much as any of you do. But
+there _is_ a problem. If the destruction were stopped there would be
+so much leisure people would rot from boredom."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Burnett pounced eagerly on the argument. "Instead they're rotting from
+artificial work. Boredom is a temporary, if recurring phenomenon of
+living, not a permanent one. If most men face the difficulty of empty
+time long enough they find new problems with which to fill that time.
+That's where philosophy showed me the way. None of its fundamental
+mysteries can ever be solved but, as you pit yourself against them,
+your experience and capacity for being alive grows."
+
+"Very nice," Hart grinned, "wanting all men to be philosophers. They
+never have been."
+
+"You shouldn't have brought him here," growled the short man. "He's
+not one of us. Now we have a real mess."
+
+"Johnson, I'm leader of this group!" Burnett exploded. "Credit me with
+a little understanding. All right, Hart, what you say is true. But
+why? Because most men have always worked too hard to achieve the
+fruits of curiosity."
+
+"I hate to keep being a spoil-sport, but what does that prove? _Some_
+men who had to work as hard as the rest have been interested in things
+beyond the end of their nose."
+
+They all groaned their disapproval.
+
+"A good point, Hart, but it doesn't prove what you think. It just
+shows that a minority enjoy innate capacities and environmental
+variations that make the transition to philosopher easier."
+
+"And _you_ haven't proven anything about the incurious majority."
+
+"This does, though: whenever there was a favorable period the majority
+who could, as you put it, see beyond the ends of their noses
+increased. Our era is just the opposite. We are trapped in a vicious
+circle. Those noses are usually so close to the grindstone that men
+are afraid to raise their heads. We are breaking that circle!"
+
+"It's a terribly important thing to aim for, Burnett, but--" He
+brought up another doubt and somebody else answered it immediately.
+
+For the next half hour, as one uncertainty was expressed after
+another, everybody joined in the answers until inexorable logic forced
+his surrender.
+
+"All right," he conceded, "I will do anything I can--not to make work
+for myself, but to help mankind rise above it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Except for a brief, triumphant glance in Johnson's direction, Burnett
+gave no further attention to what had happened and plunged immediately
+into practical matters.
+
+To halt the blind worship of work, the Rites had first to be
+discredited. And to discredit the Rites, the awe inspired by their
+infallible performance had to be weakened. The sabotage of the
+Preliminary had been the first local step in that direction. There had
+been a few similar, if smaller, episodes, executed by other groups,
+but they had received as little publicity as possible.
+
+"Johnson, you pulled one so big this time that they can't hide it.
+Twenty thousand witnesses! When it comes to getting things done you're
+the best we have!"
+
+The little man grinned. "But you're the one who knows how to pick
+recruits and organize our concepts. This is how it worked. I re-fed
+the emptied cryotron memory box of a robot discard with patterns to
+deal with anything it was likely to encounter in a destruction pile. I
+kept the absolute-freeze mechanism in working order, but developed a
+shield that would hide its activity from the best pile detector." He
+spread a large tissue schematic out on the floor and they all
+gathered around it to study the details. "Now, the important thing was
+to have an external element that could resume contact with a wider
+circuit, which could in turn start meshing with the whole robot
+mechanism and then through that mechanism into the pile. This little
+lever made the contact at a pre-fed time."
+
+Miss Wright was enthusiastic. "That contact is half the size of any
+I've been able to make. It's crucially important," she added to Hart.
+"A large contact can look suspicious."
+
+While others took miniphotos of the schematic, Hart studied the
+contact carefully. "I think I can reduce its size by another fifty per
+cent. Alloys are one of my specialties--when I get a chance to work at
+them."
+
+"That would be ideal," said Burnett. "Then we could set up many more
+discarded robots without risk. How long will it take?"
+
+"I can rough it out right now." He scribbled down the necessary
+formulas and everyone photographed that too.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Maximum security is now in effect," announced Burnett. "You will
+destroy your copies as soon as you have transferred them to edible
+base copies. At the first hint of danger you will consume them. Use
+home enlargers for study. In no case are you to make permanent
+blowups that would be difficult to destroy quickly." He considered
+them sternly. "Remember, you are running a great risk. You're not only
+opposing the will of the state but the present will of the vast
+majority of citizens."
+
+"If there are as many other underground groups as you indicate," said
+Hart, "they should have this information."
+
+"We get it to them," answered Burnett. "I'm going on health leave from
+my job."
+
+"And what will be your excuse?" Wright demanded anxiously.
+
+"Nervous shock," smiled their leader. "After all, I did see today's
+events in the Plaza."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Hart reached home his wife was waiting for him. "Why did you take
+so long, Wendell. I was worried sick. The radio says anti-socials are
+turning wild servos loose. How could human beings do such a thing?"
+
+"I was there. I saw it all happen." He frowned. "The crowd was so
+dense I couldn't get away."
+
+"But what happened? The way the news was broadcast I couldn't
+understand anything."
+
+He described the situation in great detail and awaited Marie's
+reaction. It was even more encouraging than he had hoped for. "I
+understand less than before! How could anything reactivate that
+rubble? They put everything over five years old into the piles, and
+the stuff's supposed to be decrepit already. You'd almost think we
+were destroying wealth before its time, because if those disabled
+mechanisms reactivate--" She came to a dead halt. "That's madness! Oh,
+I wish High Holy Day were here already so I could get back to work and
+stop this empty _thinking_!"
+
+Her honest face was more painfully distorted than he had ever seen it
+before, even during the universal pre-Rite doldrums. "Only a few more
+days to go," he consoled. "Don't worry, honey. Everything's going to
+be all right. Now I'd like to be alone in the study for a while. I've
+been through an exhausting time."
+
+"Aren't you going to eat?"
+
+The last word triggered the entry of Eric, the domestic robot, pushing
+the dinner cart ahead of him. "No food to-night," Hart insisted. The
+shining metal head nodded its assent and the cart was wheeled out.
+
+"That's not a very humane thing to do," she scolded. "Eric's not going
+to be serving many more meals--"
+
+"Good grief, Marie, just leave me alone for a while, will you?" He
+slammed the study door shut, warning himself to display less
+nervousness in the future as he listened to her pacing outside. Then
+she went away.
+
+The projector gave him a good-sized wall image to consider. He spent
+most of the night calculating where he could place tiny
+self-activators in the "obsolescent" robots that were to be donated by
+his plant. Then he set up the instruction tapes to make the miniature
+contacts. Production then would be a simple job, only taking a few
+minutes, and during a working day there were always many periods
+longer than that when he was alone on the production floor.
+
+But thinking the matter out without computers was much more difficult.
+Human beings ordinarily filled their time on a lower abstracting
+level.
+
+When he unlocked the study door in the morning he was startled to see
+Marie bustling down the corridor, pushing the food service cart
+herself. That did not make sense, especially considering last night's
+statement about Eric.
+
+"I thought you'd want breakfast early," she coughed.
+
+"You didn't have to bother, honey. Eric could have done it."
+
+If she had been prying, the cart might have been a prop to take up as
+soon as he came out. On the other hand, what could she in her
+technical ignorance make of such matters anyway?
+
+It was best not to rouse any deeper suspicions by openly noticing her
+wifely nosiness. At breakfast they pretended nothing had happened,
+devoting the time to mutually disapproved cousins, but all day long he
+kept wondering whether ignorant knowledge couldn't be as dangerous as
+the knowing kind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning, after a long sleep, he went to the factory for the
+first of his semi-weekly work periods.
+
+He sat before a huge console, surveying scores of dials, at the end of
+a machine that was over five hundred yards long. Today it was turning
+out glass paper the color of watered blood, made only for Ritual
+publications, packing it in sheets and dispatching them in automatic
+trucks; but the machine could be adjusted to everything from metal
+sheeting to plastic felts. At the far end sat another man, diminished
+by distance, busily tending more dials that could really take care of
+themselves.
+
+After a while the man went out for a break. Hart ran a hundred yards
+to a section that was not working. He snapped it into the alloy supply
+and fed in the tape. In a minute, several dozen tiny contacts came
+down a chute. He pocketed them and disconnected the section just
+before his fellow worker reappeared.
+
+The man walked down the floor to him, looking curious.
+
+"Anything the matter?" he asked, hopeful for some break in routine.
+
+"No, just felt like a walk."
+
+"Know what you mean--I feel restless too. Too bad this plant's only
+two years old. Boy, wouldn't she make a great disintegration!" He
+grinned, slapping a fender affectionately.
+
+Hart joined in the joke. "Gives us something to look forward to in ten
+years."
+
+"A good way to look at things," said the other man.
+
+At home he locked the contacts in a desk drawer. Tomorrow he would
+deliver most of them to Burnett's apartment.
+
+But the next morning an emergency letter came from his group leader,
+warning him not to appear there. _I am going completely underground. I
+think they may suspect my activities. The dispersion plan must go into
+effect. You know how to reach Johnson and Wright and they each in turn
+can get to two others. Good luck!_
+
+He had just put the letter in his pocket when Eric announced the
+arrival of a Rituals Inspector.
+
+The man had nervous close-set eyes and seemed embarrassed by his need
+to make such a visit. Hart took the offensive as his best defense. "I
+don't understand this, Inspector," he protested. "You people should
+be busy with High Holy preparations. Are you losing your taste for
+work?"
+
+"Now, now, Mr. Hart, that's a very unkind remark. I dislike this
+nonsense as much as anyone." His square jaw chewed into each word as
+he opened his scanning box. "It's the anti-social sabotage."
+
+"Do you mean to say I am under suspicion?" Marie was now loitering in
+the doorway, worse luck.
+
+"Oh, no. Nothing so insulting. This is strictly impersonal. The
+Scanning Center has picked apartments at complete random and we're to
+make spot checks."
+
+The eye at one end of the box blinked wickedly, waiting for an
+information feed. "Now, sir, if you'll pardon me, I'll just take the
+records from one of those desk drawers--any drawer--and put them in
+the box." Hart slid open a drawer. "No, sir, I think I'll try the next
+one. It's regulation not to accept suggestions."
+
+With a hand made deft by practise he scooped out all the sheets and
+tapes and put them in the box. The scanner's fingers rapidly sorted
+them past the eye. Hart exhaled, relieved that an innocuous drawer had
+been selected, and the inspector handed back the material to him.
+"Well, Inspector, that's that."
+
+"Not quite." The Inspector selected another drawer at the other end of
+the desk and dumped everything before the scanner. His examination was
+speeding up and that was not good; he would have time to take more
+sample readings.
+
+"Now if you'll empty your left pocket--"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Oh, this is too much!" Marie exploded. "My husband struggles all
+night on secret work, studying to find ways to stop the anti-socials,
+and you treat him like one of them!"
+
+"You're working on the problem?" the Inspector said respectfully.
+"What are you doing?"
+
+Frying pan to fire. Hart preferred the pan and pulled open a drawer.
+"It's too complicated, too much time needed to explain!"
+
+The Inspector glanced at his watch. "I'm falling behind schedule." He
+closed up his box. "Sorry, but I have to leave. Heavy time sheet
+today."
+
+As soon as he was gone, Hart breathed easier. Nothing incriminating
+would be fed into the Central Scanner.
+
+Marie became apologetic. "I'm sorry I said it, Wendell, but I couldn't
+keep quiet. All I did last night was peek in once or twice."
+
+He shrugged. "I'm just on a minor project."
+
+"Every bit counts." She shook her head. "Only you have to wonder--I
+mean, don't think I'm treasoning, but while I was shopping an hour ago
+a lot of women said you have to think--how come all that obsolescent
+junk could work so well, after being thoroughly wrecked, too? You
+almost wonder whether some of it was too good for disintegration."
+
+Wendell pretended to be shocked. "Just a fluke of circumstance. If
+something like that happened again you'd be right to wonder. But it
+could not ever happen again."
+
+"Don't get me wrong, Wendell. None of the women attacked anything. It
+was more like what you just said. They said if it happened again, then
+you'd have to wonder. But of course it couldn't happen again."
+
+How well the tables had turned! Not only had Marie's ignorant
+knowledge proven helpful but she had now given him a positive idea
+also.
+
+When he met Wright and Johnson at the latter's apartment that evening
+he explained it to them. "We can propagate 'dangerous' thoughts and
+yet appear completely loyal. We can set up the reaction to next High
+Holy Day."
+
+"How?" demanded Johnson. "That's having your cake and eating it."
+
+"Nothing's impossible in the human mind," Wright said. "Let's
+listen."
+
+"Here's the point. Wherever you go there will be people tsk-tsking
+about the Preliminary fiasco. Just reassure them, say it meant nothing
+at all by itself. If it ever happened again, then there would be room
+for doubt but, of course, _it could not happen again_!"
+
+Wright smiled. "That's almost feminine in its subtlety."
+
+He smiled back. "My wife inspired it. Don't get nervous--it was
+unconscious, sheerly by accident."
+
+"Whatever the cause, it's the perfect result," Johnson conceded.
+"We'll spread it through the net."
+
+"Along with this, I hope." Wendell dumped the contacts on a table top.
+"It's the smallest size possible. A lot should get by unnoticed. Find
+cell members who can set up cryotrons with a wide range of
+instructions to cope with anything in the piles. Some weirdly alive
+concoctions of 'obsolescent' parts ought to result."
+
+"Some day the world's going to know what you've done for it," said
+Johnson solemnly.
+
+"That could happen too soon!" Miss Wright's face, honest and open in
+its horse-like length, broke into a wide grin.
+
+"Amen," said Hart, adding the private hope that Marie, blessed with
+superior looks, might be able to show as much superior wisdom some
+day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The hope was not immediately fulfilled. When he reached home Marie was
+in a tizzy of excitement. "You're just in time, darling. They just
+caught three subversives. One of them was a woman," she added as this
+were compounding an improbability with an impossibility. "They're
+going to show them."
+
+He gripped his belt tightly. "A woman?"
+
+"That's right. There she is now."
+
+A uniformed officer was gently helping a pale little old woman sit
+down before the camera, as if she were more an object of pity than of
+fear. Hart relaxed.
+
+"--caught red-handed with the incriminating papers," shouted an
+offstage announcer. "Handbills asserting objects declared obsolescent
+could actually last indefinitely!"
+
+"What do you have to say for yourself?" the officer asked gently. "You
+must realize, of course, that such irreligious behavior precludes your
+moving in general society for a long time to come."
+
+"I don't know what came over me," she sobbed in a tired voice.
+"Curiosity. Yes, curiosity, that's what it was. I saw these sheets of
+paper in the street and they said we should stop working so hard at
+compulsory tasks and start working to expand our own interests and
+personalities."
+
+"Self-contradictory nonsense!" said the voice.
+
+"Yes, I know that. But it made me curious and I took it home to read,
+and it said our compulsory tasks were artificially manufactured and,
+if you didn't believe that, look at the pile that reactivated itself
+the other day." She stopped, reorganizing her thoughts. "Of course,
+though, that thing in the Plaza was unique, you know. I don't think it
+could mean a thing ... unless it happened a few times. And the fact is
+it won't ever happen again."
+
+"Well, that much makes very good sense," said Marie. "You said the
+same thing, Wendell. I don't think that poor woman knew what she was
+doing--just a dupe for subversive propaganda."
+
+"--a dupe for subversive propaganda," the announcer was saying.
+
+"See, exactly what I said."
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+How swiftly the decentralized underground was working! Hart could not
+tell whether the old woman was an active member or just a passive
+responder, but it did not matter. She was now spreading the seeds for
+future doubt across the land.
+
+Two old men were brought in and they mumbled the same disconnected
+story as their sister.
+
+"We have intensively interrogated these prisoners," boomed the
+announcer, "and know there is nothing more to the rumored anti-social
+plot than this stupid chatter. Remain vigilant and you have nothing to
+fear!"
+
+"You are sentenced to five years isolation from general society," said
+the officer, in a voice dulcet enough to sell advance orders for
+replacement products that had not yet been made. "Our intention is to
+protect you from bad influences. Our hope is that others will take
+your lesson to heart."
+
+"God bless you," said the woman and her brothers joined in effusive
+thanks.
+
+"Makes you proud to be a human being," Marie said. "I was getting some
+stupid doubts myself, dear. I must admit it. But that's all past. I
+can hardly wait for the Highest Holy Day."
+
+"Neither can I," sighed her husband.
+
+
+III
+
+The next day at noon Eric came to him, functioning on the final set of
+servo instructions that had been installed in him at the factory of
+his birth eight years before. He shook hands with the two of them and
+said: "Now I am prepared for death."
+
+Marie was tearful. "I will miss you, Eric. If you were only under five
+years old your span could be extended."
+
+"Everything that happens is right," Eric said impassively.
+
+He clambered on to the operation table, instinctively knowing which
+flat surface was for him, and, breaking all his major circuits, gave
+up the ghost that only man could restore to him.
+
+Hart found his wife's grief easy to bear. The day after tomorrow she
+would join in the general exultation of High Holy Day, with Eric well
+forgotten. He methodically began smashing the surface of the limbs and
+torso; the greater the visible damage, the greater the honor
+redounding to the sacrifice donor. "This will be our gift to the
+general pile," he said.
+
+"I thought we could keep him for our garden sacrifice," Marie
+protested meekly. "Most people do."
+
+"But the other way is the greater sacrifice."
+
+There was no reply, because she knew he spoke for the deeper, more
+moving custom. But suddenly he began to act depressed himself. "I know
+we say it every ten years, but Eric was really the best companion we
+ever had." He gestured toward the table. "I want to sit here with him
+for a while--alone."
+
+"That's carrying things too far, Wendell. A little grief is
+proper--but this much is actually morbid."
+
+"It's all within my rights."
+
+She tossed her head petulantly. "Well, I've done my share. I can't
+stand any more. It makes a person think and get depressed. I don't
+care what you're going to do. I'm going out to enjoy a Preliminary."
+
+"Can't blame you for that," he nodded.
+
+When she had gone he started to work on new instruction tapes for
+activating the servo-cryotron. Nothing could be surrendered to chance.
+Every possible circumstance in the pile had to be anticipated. There
+had to be instructions for action if Eric was crushed below fifty feet
+of metal, for assembling any kind of scrambled wiring, for adapting
+all types of parts in its immediate surroundings, for using these
+parts to absorb parts further away and for timing the operation to the
+start of the Highest Rite.
+
+Some tapes had been prepared earlier, so it was possible to put
+everything in the cryotron box before Marie returned, as well as to
+attach the tiny contact that would reach out from the box until it
+reached its first external scrap of wire or metal.
+
+"You poor darling," she pouted. "You missed the most wonderful thing!
+They demolished a whole thirty-story building!"
+
+His blood, atavistically effected, pulsed faster until his new creed
+came to grips with his old emotions. "They usually don't bother with
+buildings for the Rites."
+
+"I know--that's what was so wonderful! The State has decided to make
+this one the biggest Day of all time. We'll have enough work to fill
+the whole ten years! Everybody was so happy."
+
+"I'm sure they were." He caught himself in mid-sarcasm and said, "I'm
+sorry I missed it."
+
+"And I'm sorry I've been so selfishly self-centered." She frowned. "I
+forgot about it, but there were people in the crowd boasting they had
+been assigned to fight anti-social movements. I had to boast back that
+my husband had been honored too."
+
+He tensed. "Oh? What did they say to that?"
+
+"Frankly, they laughed."
+
+"I should think so. The Central Scanner didn't pick up anything except
+a lot of ineffective propaganda. The sabotage business was all
+hysteria."
+
+"That's just what they said--the assignments were an empty honor." She
+coldly considered Eric. "I want to wreck him too."
+
+"I've smashed the insides," he said. "You'd better just work the
+surface."
+
+"That's all I want to do," she answered, starting to scratch
+traditional marks all over the dead robot. It gave her a full
+afternoon of happy, busy labor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next day a large open truck came around and the street echoed to
+the appeal for contributions. Festival spirit was running high
+everywhere and when the neighborhood crowd saw the young robot porters
+carry Eric out there was a loud cheer of appreciation.
+
+"My husband decided on a major contribution right away," Marie
+announced to them.
+
+"It's the least we could do," he said modestly.
+
+Many onlookers, swept away by their example, rushed indoors to bring
+out additional items of sacrifice. But only two others gave up their
+robots. The rest clung to them for private Holy Night ceremonies. Soon
+Eric disappeared under the renewed deluge of egg-beaters and washers.
+
+"The best collection I have seen today," said the inspector
+accompanying the truck. "You people are to be congratulated for your
+exceptional patriotism."
+
+"Destroy!" they shouted back joyously. "Make work!"
+
+At dawn the Central Plaza was already crowded and new hordes kept
+pouring in from outlying areas. Wendell and his wife had been among
+the first to arrive. They waited, impatient in their separate ways, on
+the borderline five hundred yards from the ten-story pyre.
+
+Martial music roared from loudspeakers, interrupted by the
+mellifluous boom of a merchandising announcer: "New product! Better
+models! One hundred years of High Holy Days! New! New! NEW!"
+
+"Destroy!" came the returning shout. "Make work! Work! Work!"
+
+All the sounds echoed back and forth until baffled away by the open
+area across the Plaza, where one large structure had already been
+destroyed. Three others were slated for collapse today.
+
+"The biggest Holy Day ever," a restless old woman said to Marie. "I've
+seen all nine of them."
+
+"Eric's in there," Marie chatted back, superficially sad, deeply
+happy.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Our house robot."
+
+"Imagine that! Did you hear that?" People gathered round them and
+cheered. The good-natured jostling continued until someone said: "Five
+minutes to go!"
+
+Wendell checked his watch. Somewhere in the pile at least one element
+was coming to life, a metal arm reaching out for brother metal to
+engulf in its cybernetic sweep.
+
+"They're coming!" A line of six shiny new slaggers came rumbling into
+the open with military precision. They moved along slowly, prolonging
+the pleasures of anticipation, then broke rank, each seeking its
+assigned point around the pile of appliances gathered for
+destruction.
+
+"The latest improved models," said the loudspeakers. "They will first
+perform fifteen minutes of automatic maneuvers." The military music
+resumed and each slagger turned, as if circling a coin, in clanking
+rhythm to it.
+
+"The three hundred and sixty degree turn. Next, making a box on the
+Plaza floor...."
+
+The voice stopped, appalled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An avalanche of metal slid down one side of the pile and the crowd
+gasped. The downward movement viscously slowed; then the metal,
+suddenly alive with the capacity to defy gravity, circled upward.
+Jagged limbs started flailing about.
+
+"Disintegrator attack!" screamed the loudspeakers. "Attack!"
+
+The maneuvers stopped. For one brief moment prior to changeover the
+Plaza was dead still, except for the deafening rumble in the pile. The
+slaggers broke the spell, rushing full speed toward the pile,
+evaporator beams working.
+
+One by one they faltered and were sucked into the destructive pyre.
+
+The crowd fell further back. The whole pile came alive like a mineral
+octopus. Then the squirming thing collapsed, every makeshift circuit
+irreparably broken and dead. Everything had been happening too fast
+for any pronounced reaction to accompany it; but now the world went
+crazy.
+
+"Stand firm!" pleaded the loudspeakers. "We will get reinforcements as
+soon as celebrations are finished elsewhere."
+
+A barrage of enormous boos came from the disintegrating mob. "Never
+again! Fakes! It's finished, done for!"
+
+"Stand firm!"
+
+But the breakup down side avenues continued. "I don't understand,"
+Marie shuddered. "Everything's crazy. We've been deceived, Wendell.
+Who's been deceiving us?"
+
+"Nobody--unless it's ourselves."
+
+"I don't understand that either." Saucer-eyed she watched a great
+clump of disgruntled people push past. "I _have_ to think!"
+
+Suddenly, as they came around a corner, they were facing Burnett.
+
+Hart tried to disregard him but the group leader would have none of
+that. He rushed up to Hart. "Good to see a friendly face. Shocking
+developments!" His face was grim, but tiny wrinkles at the corners of
+his eyes betrayed an amusement that could only be discovered by those
+who looked for it.
+
+"Mr. Burnett," he explained to Marie. "A librarian at the main
+building. Mr. Burnett, my wife Marie."
+
+"I am most happy to meet you, Mrs. Hart. Have you heard the latest?"
+
+"No, Mr. Burnett."
+
+"The same things have been happening _everywhere_! They announced it
+on the radio and they're saying it's due to anti-social elements.
+Shocking!"
+
+She shook her head stubbornly. "I don't know what to think. Maybe we
+shouldn't be shocked, maybe we should be. I just don't know, Mr.
+Burnett. I came to enjoy myself and look how it's ended." She bravely
+held back a sob, "Maybe we'd have been better off if we've never heard
+about High Holy Days!"
+
+Burnett looked about with feigned apprehension. "You have to be careful
+what you say. The government says there's even talk--subversive
+handbills--about trying to rehabilitate some of the stuff in the piles."
+
+"The government ought to keep quiet!" she exploded. "They said this
+couldn't happen. You can't believe anything they say any more. The
+_people_ decide and the government will have to listen, that's what I
+say! And I'm a pretty typical person, not one of your intellectual
+kind. No criticism of present company intended."
+
+"None taken, Mrs. Hart. Our human future," said Burnett, exchanging a
+grin with his aide, "remains, as it always has really been.
+Interesting--to say the least!"
+
+END
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Junkmakers, by Albert R. Teichner
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