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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f45deb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60401 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60401) diff --git a/old/60401-h.zip b/old/60401-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a81e471..0000000 --- a/old/60401-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/60401-h/60401-h.htm b/old/60401-h/60401-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index a3a0d6e..0000000 --- a/old/60401-h/60401-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1059 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Puppet Government, by George Revelle. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Puppet Government, by George Revelle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Puppet Government - -Author: George Revelle - -Release Date: October 1, 2019 [EBook #60401] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUPPET GOVERNMENT *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="345" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>puppet government</h1> - -<h2>BY GEORGE REVELLE</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><i>Year after year they came back,<br /> -despite his constant refusals. And<br /> -still Brandon couldn't figure<br /> -out why he was so important....</i></p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1957.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Brandon was looking at his desk again.</p> - -<p>An artificial grin spread across the narrow face of the Secretary of -Interior who was watching him closely. The Secretary's pencil-thin -fingers continued to toy with the small, wood figure he was holding. -"Brandon," he tried to lie gracefully, "You're a card. A real card."</p> - -<p>Brandon shifted his position, brought his attention back to the thin -man with the receding hairline. He couldn't, for the life of him, -remember anything humorous he had said or done. He was too tired to be -jovial. The past few days had sapped his strength. He was exhausted and -there were still two more interviews scheduled.</p> - -<p>Good Lord, he thought. Two more! He found his eyes wandering back to -his desk. He would never finish the papers in time. That would mean a -severe penalty.</p> - -<p>"Come now, Brandon. Admit it. You <i>know</i> you want to work for us in -Interior."</p> - -<p>"Right now I don't know anything," Brandon said wearily. "My head is -tired and clouded. I can't think straight." He rubbed his hand across -his forehead, wondering how much longer he would be able to continue to -say no to their requests. He had almost found himself agreeing with the -thin man a few moments ago. That wasn't good.</p> - -<p>Brandon leaned back in the contour chair and let some of the strength -seep back into his outstretched legs. Each year at this time they would -begin to wander in with their strange, outlandish offers of positions -with the government. It was perplexing.</p> - -<p>"Why me?" he asked suddenly. "Why in Interior? I know nothing about -such work?"</p> - -<p>The thin man leaned foreward, "Because you are a good man, Brandon. And -we need good men these days. Government is big business and we want -the top positions filled with the best men we can get. Besides," the -Secretary laughed softly, "you're wasting your time playing with dolls."</p> - -<p>"They aren't dolls!" Brandon said indignantly.</p> - -<p>"So they aren't dolls."</p> - -<p>"There is a difference," Brandon insisted. "You make it sound as if I'm -in my second childhood."</p> - -<p>"All right. Puppets!" The thin man shifted in his chair. He ran his -lean fingers over the hand-painted figure he was holding in one hand. -"But you can see my point."</p> - -<p>Brandon shook his head. That was it. He couldn't see the point. His -puppets were becoming world famous, the result of reviving the almost -lost art of hand carving. He was earning a fair living at it. He could -see no reason for a change.</p> - -<p>"Think of the prestige if you come with us. You will be heading a -department of your own," the Secretary said.</p> - -<p>Brandon wrinkled his brow, thinking of how his name was already -associated with his puppets. If only they would leave him alone, if -only there wasn't so much paper work waiting for him on his desk, he -would be able to spread out, expand, really have a going business. But -they had to keep pestering him with worthless offers that they knew he -couldn't handle, wasting his time, especially now when time was of the -essence. The paper work on his desk had to be completed by midnight. He -would never finish it now.</p> - -<p>Brandon felt the beginning of a headache. Because of the paper work -he hadn't had time to touch a new puppet in months. Now these damn -interviews were keeping him from the desk work. It was a vicious circle -leading to ruin.</p> - -<p>"You will be serving your Country, Brandon," the Secretary said -strongly. "Not fiddling with dolls."</p> - -<p>"I told you...."</p> - -<p>The Secretary held up his hand. "I know. Puppets."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Brandon got up and walked to the window and looked out at the setting -sun. It was hard to define; there were some things words couldn't -explain. All the offers had been good ones. But a man had to have some -rule, some yardstick to guide him. Brandon had his. He wanted to -be useful, that wasn't too much to ask. Life was too short to waste -laboring in a position he wasn't fitted for. If he took Interior's -offer all that would be ended. He would be caught in a web which -allowed no escape.</p> - -<p>Brandon turned. "I'm afraid, Mr. Secretary, that you don't understand -my position. It isn't that I feel above being employed by the -President. I have all the respect in the world for him and his office. -I have nothing but respect for you...."</p> - -<p>"Then what is it, Brandon?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think I would be happy taking orders from some one else."</p> - -<p>"We all have a boss, Brandon."</p> - -<p>"I haven't."</p> - -<p>The Secretary grinned. "You can head your own department. The President -and myself will be the only ones you will have to answer to, I promise."</p> - -<p>"That's what I mean," Brandon answered softly.</p> - -<p>The Secretary felt his face flush. "You <i>are</i> insinuating that you are -above working for the President, Mr. Brandon!" he said stiffly.</p> - -<p>"You're twisting words." Brandon's voice was determined. "It's just -that I like to work alone. I like to put my hat on and go, whenever, -and wherever I please."</p> - -<p>The Secretary shook his head "Brandon! I happen to know that you -haven't been off this estate, this property of yours, in the past five -years."</p> - -<p>"That doesn't alter a thing. I can go, anytime I please. I have no -reason to leave now. But when I do, I won't feel obligated, I won't -have to ask permission."</p> - -<p>The Secretary relaxed. "You can do that in the department anytime you -wish. Visit the conservations, then, when you are tired of traipsing -around, you can come back and write up a report or two." The Secretary -cleared his throat. "Just for the records, of course."</p> - -<p>Brandon sighed. "Of course. Just for the records." He brushed back -his thick, black hair and sat down. Damn it. Why couldn't they leave -him alone? That was all he wanted, to be left alone. He was sick of -all this. They knew he wasn't fitted to be a clerk in any of the -departments. Yet they wasted his time offering him important positions, -as if the title would persuade him. Why?</p> - -<p>"We could outlaw your doll-making," the Secretary said casually.</p> - -<p>Brandon shrugged his shoulders. "Harmonics did that with my music -writing, remember! I didn't always do hand-carving."</p> - -<p>The Secretary remembered. He had had an indirect hand in that. It had -been thought that if Brandon was suddenly without income he might -easily be persuaded to accept a position. They hadn't counted on -Brandon's resourcefulness, nor his stubborness.</p> - -<p>The thin man leaned back in his chair, looked again at the doll thing -resting in one hand. The man was clever; there was a life-like quality -to the doll. Brandon was an artist and it would be a shame to take him -out of circulation. Yet what could he do? The President had insisted on -the visit again this year, knowing full well that Brandon would turn -down the offer.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, the Secretary felt sorry for Brandon. The man was breaking -down and didn't realize it. His face was drawn and pale. He looked -dog-tired.</p> - -<p>"Won't you change your mind, Brandon?" the Secretary asked softly. -"With Interior you will have an opportunity to get out into the -sunlight. It will be a healthy life visiting the many conservations we -have situated around the country; it will agree with you, I'm sure."</p> - -<p>Brandon sighed. "I'm afraid, Mr. Secretary, that we are both wasting -our time. I have a tremendous amount of paper work to finish before -midnight tonight and I am tired. I also have a few more interviews -before I can get at it." Brandon got up, "So if you don't mind—"</p> - -<p>The thin man looked at Brandon searchingly. "Won't you reconsider?"</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid not," Brandon answered.</p> - -<p>The Secretary paused at the door. "See you next year, then!"</p> - -<p>"Next year," Brandon answered flatly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Secretary of Interior hardly spoke to the young man waiting by his -vehicle. He wanted to get away from there as soon as possible. These -yearly visits to Brandon always upset him, made him feel like a cad. It -would be days before he shook the unwanted feeling.</p> - -<p>"How did it go?" the young man asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>The Secretary took in the youngish face, the confidence flowing from -the eyes. Evans always managed to give that youthful impression, yet he -wasn't really a young man. In a way the thin man envied Evans ... with -one exception, of course. This would be Evans' first visit to Brandon. -Some of the confidence would be gone when he walked out of Brandon's -house.</p> - -<p>"I said how did it go?" Evans repeated.</p> - -<p>The Secretary shrugged his thin shoulders. "As usual. He refused."</p> - -<p>Evans showed white, even teeth. "Is he tired?"</p> - -<p>"Very."</p> - -<p>"Excellent," Evans said "And the paper work. Is it worrying him?"</p> - -<p>The thin man studied Evans. No, he didn't envy the man any longer. -Evans had no feelings; it was written on his face. "The paper work is -worrying him to death," he heard himself say.</p> - -<p>"Wonderful!"</p> - -<p>The Secretary became conscious of the small figure he was holding in -his hand. He had walked out with one of Brandon's creations! Suddenly, -he slammed it to the ground. The paint chipped and cracked. The small -head rolled loosely across the lawn. Evans looked at him queerly.</p> - -<p>"I think <i>you</i> need a rest," the young man said softly, unsmiling.</p> - -<p>"Brandon is a good man. I hate to see him broken. He has a lot of -talent. But not for the work we're offering him. It isn't right, -grinding him into the dirt the way we are."</p> - -<p>Evans leaned over, picked up the broken puppet. One arm was twisted at -an odd angle, the clown suit was torn and dirty. Evans tried to fit the -head back on the small body. Finally he succeeded.</p> - -<p>He looked at the Secretary of Interior. His eyes seemed different. "I -have a position he can fill and do a good job. He won't refuse. I'm -sure." Evans walked away, toward Brandon's house, still holding the -broken figure.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Brandon stood on the veranda looking across his small estate, in the -direction of the city. The site of the government was located there. -Perhaps that was why he was so reluctant; he lived too close to it, -had it around him day in and day out. The Government was ubiquitous, -omnipresent and omnipotent. It dominated every conversation, every -business, every life from birth to death. Lately it even seemed that -every one he came in contact with held a position with some agency -connected with the government.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Brandon!"</p> - -<p>"I know," he answered without turning. "You're from Labor."</p> - -<p>"We've never met!"</p> - -<p>Brandon turned and took in the lean individual who called himself -Evans. Quite different from the one who had called last year. That one -had been old and grumpy. Brandon's lips parted: "I assumed. All the -other departments have been here except Revenue. I didn't see Wilson -standing outside; I've heard he's out of the country. That leaves you."</p> - -<p>"You could have been wrong, you know," Evans said.</p> - -<p>"How?" Brandon asked without fully caring.</p> - -<p>"Revenue has been split. There are two departments now. Revenue and -Taxation. Taxation handles income from taxpayers only."</p> - -<p>"Big deal," Brandon said harshly, remembering his desk piled high with -papers.</p> - -<p>"They say you are a stubborn man, Brandon."</p> - -<p>"Stubborn?"</p> - -<p>"Quite."</p> - -<p>"Let's say I'm content with my lot."</p> - -<p>"Are you really, Brandon?"</p> - -<p>Brandon took in the young man's wide shoulders, the face that was -almost too young for such a responsible position. For just an instant -he had felt that this man would be different, that there might be a -challenge here. He could see he was wrong. The man was going to offer -him a position.</p> - -<p>"Let's get to the point," he said hurriedly. "I'm happy making puppets -and I feel no need for a change."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you are happy, Mr. Brandon."</p> - -<p>"Good. Then there is no need to continue. I refuse your offer." Brandon -was getting irritated. He didn't wait for an answer, he walked past -Evans, into the house.</p> - -<p>He stood by his desk. The pile of papers was still resting there, -waiting for him. He had hoped, in some magical way, that they might -have vanished. A foolish thought, he knew.</p> - -<p>"Income tax?" he heard Evans say from his shoulder.</p> - -<p>Brandon nodded wearily. Evans reached over and picked up a form. He -frowned. "Complicated!"</p> - -<p>"Each year it gets worse," Brandon said listlessly.</p> - -<p>"I've never had to file one," Evans said.</p> - -<p>Brandon lifted one eyebrow.</p> - -<p>"Government employees never do. We are paid a flat sum and our -subsistance is taken care of. Calculators and computers adjust our -salary each year in proportion to the expense of the government. We -have been operating out of the red that way for years. It works out -fine."</p> - -<p>Brandon ran his hands through the papers and forms. Why then did he -have to wade through this mess each year when it could be made so -simple? He had been staggering under the load.</p> - -<p>"You're an independent, Brandon," Evans said. "You stay in business -for yourself because you dislike working for someone else. Isn't that -right?"</p> - -<p>"You might say that."</p> - -<p>Evans dangled a handful of papers in front of Brandon's brown eyes. -"You are working for someone else now. The tax department."</p> - -<p>"Not exactly. I don't have to answer to anyone."</p> - -<p>Evans snorted. "Not even the tax collector?"</p> - -<p>"Not unless I make an error," Brandon said stubbornly. "And I won't. -I'm becoming an expert on this. When a man spends one hundred days a -year working on these damn things he learns quite a bit. There will be -no errors."</p> - -<p>"One hundred days!" Evans laughed. "Soon it'll be every day of the -year. Then where will you be?" He looked directly into Brandon's eyes. -"Can't you see? You're in the web already, working a third of the year -without compensation."</p> - -<p>Evans pulled from his pocket the the broken puppet he had picked up -from the driveway outside Brandon's house. He laid it in front of -Brandon on the pile of income tax blanks. "Soon you'll be without -income; your business will deteriorate from lack of attention."</p> - -<p>Brandon said nothing.</p> - -<p>Evans moved to the contour chair and sat down. He closed his eyes. -"You've been out of circulation a long time, Brandon. The world is -changing. Government is big business, one of the largest, and it's -expanding. We need more men, good men."</p> - -<p>Evans opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. "You said you've -become an expert on forms. Would you consider taking a position as head -of the tax department?" he asked abruptly.</p> - -<p>Brandon lifted his gaze from the desk. "I thought you were with labor?"</p> - -<p>"I could arrange it." Evans closed his eyes again.</p> - -<p>"But...."</p> - -<p>"Think, Brandon. As chief of the bureau, you won't have to answer to -anyone, not even the President. You've seen the mess the forms have -become. You can straighten it out."</p> - -<p>"I don't think...."</p> - -<p>"I'll have it put in writing that no one will bother you."</p> - -<p>Brandon stared at the papers on his desk. For the first time they were -offering him a position he understood, one he could handle. It would -be a challenge. He would be in a position to eliminate three-quarters -of that damn paperwork. God knew how many like himself were gradually -getting snowed under each year.</p> - -<p>Brandon played with the puppet. The silly face stared back at him with -a fixed, smiling expression. "Tell me, Evans," he asked idly. "Why so -much effort to locate me in a government position? I've had no special -training; this is the first offer I'm even qualified enough to accept." -He lifted the puppet face high, gazed at its face. "For ten years I've -been pestered."</p> - -<p>Evans laughed as he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. "You have -determination and will-power. We need that type of nature these days -more than ever." Evans' smile became wide. "And you will be one less -taxpayer we will have to worry about now. You'll be on our side."</p> - -<p>Evans pushed all the forms from Brandon's desk with a sweep of his -tanned hand. "Forget all of that, Brandon, forever. No more taxes for -you. This is the last form you will have to sign. It appoints you -Secretary of Taxation, carte blanche."</p> - -<p>"You had all this prepared?" Brandon said in amazement.</p> - -<p>Evans' smile grew wider. "We knew you couldn't refuse an intelligent -offer, one where you would be useful."</p> - -<p>"We!"</p> - -<p>"The cabinet and myself."</p> - -<p>Brandon picked up the pen, twisted it between his fingers. Evans was -right, of course. He would be useful. Half those damn forms were filled -with worthless nonsense that could easily be eliminated. Deductions -should be higher; small, independent business should be given a break. -And he could handle the job—that was important.</p> - -<p>"Just sign on the bottom line," Evans said smoothly, pushing the broken -puppet out of the way.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="648" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The puppet fell to the floor and the head came off again. "Forget it," -Evans said quickly.</p> - -<p>Brandon studied the other man's face before he reached over and -picked up the little figure. It was a funny creature with a large, -silly-looking balloon nose. Brandon handled it tenderly, looking at it -thoughtfully. Finally he said: "My puppets. What happens to them?"</p> - -<p>"I don't understand?"</p> - -<p>"Children enjoy them," Brandon answered.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid you don't understand, Brandon," Evans shook his head. "I'm -offering you a full-time position. You can make them—as a hobby of -course—give them away, but you can't sell them. That would give you an -income again, mean more tax forms."</p> - -<p>"But I couldn't hope to produce them for nothing," Brandon insisted. -"Not on a large scale, not on the fixed salary that you mentioned!"</p> - -<p>"They aren't important, Brandon."</p> - -<p>Brandon's lips became a firm, straight line. For the first time it -was clear to him why he had been so reluctant to give up his work. His -music had pleased people, just as his puppets were doing now. He was -getting satisfaction out of his work. He was giving people something -no one else seemed to be able to give them. Accepting a position he -couldn't handle, working for someone else had nothing to do with it....</p> - -<p>"I've changed my mind," he said quietly.</p> - -<p>"Changed your mind?" Evans stared at the pen Brandon had carefully laid -down on the desk; disbelief disfiguring his face. "You intend fighting -<i>that</i> each year?" he pointed at the mad array of papers he had strewn -at Brandon's feet. "You're willing to risk not having any time at all -to work on your puppets against security and a life of ease?"</p> - -<p>"I'm willing," Brandon answered. "Now I think you'd better leave -Mr....."</p> - -<p>"Evans!"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Evans. I might be able to finish these damn things before the -midnight deadline."</p> - -<p>Evans opened his mouth but Brandon was already showing him the way to -the door, shoving something in his hand.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Evans climbed into his car and slumped down on the seat beside the -President. He looked at the new puppet Brandon had forced into his hand -before he could refuse.</p> - -<p>"Is Brandon Secretary of Taxation?" the President asked hopefully.</p> - -<p>Evans shook his head from side to side. What had gone wrong? They had -known Brandon was a stubborn man, that was why things were done as they -were. The offering of worthless positions had been a feint. He should -have grabbed at something he could handle. And the tax forms! That was -supposed to be the last straw. They had been loaded, prepared just for -Brandon, to break his resistence. Yet they had failed. Why?</p> - -<p>"Did he suspect?" The President eyed Evans.</p> - -<p>"I don't think so, Sir." Evans said. "I had the pen in his hand. He was -ready to sign. Then something went wrong. I can't understand it!"</p> - -<p>The President looked the other way, found his eyes fastened on his own -reflection on the window. The cabinet had been wrong thinking it was a -job for a psychologist like Evans. Brandon was an individual, a decided -rarity in this day and age.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad," the President said softly to the glass.</p> - -<p>"What was that, Sir?"</p> - -<p>The President turned. "I said, I'm glad he didn't sign."</p> - -<p>"You can't mean that, Sir!"</p> - -<p>"But I do."</p> - -<p>"Do you realize what this means? Brandon was the last taxpayer. We've -been forced to operate an entire bureau just to process his forms. It's -the only department operating in the red. He's the only person not -employed by the government, the only one still operating a private -business!"</p> - -<p>Evans found himself clenching the puppet tightly in his fist. "We -<i>will</i> break him. I know we will. Next year it will take him 365 days -to compute his tax. I promise."</p> - -<p>"Next year," the President said firmly, "Brandon will get a short form. -One that he can complete in ten minutes. Do you understand, Evans?"</p> - -<p>Evans' forehead creased. "I'm afraid—"</p> - -<p>The President looked back at his reflection on the glass. "We don't -want to make the boss angry now, do we Evans?"</p> - -<p>"The boss, Sir?"</p> - -<p>"Brandon, of course," the President smiled. "After all, the government -works for the taxpayers, Evans—and Brandon is the last taxpayer. He's -our boss, son. The only boss we have left."</p> - -<p>"Mr. President. If I might—"</p> - -<p>The President returned his gaze to Evans. "I think we've forgotten -something over these past years, Evans. Something very important."</p> - -<p>"What is that, Sir?"</p> - -<p>The President removed the puppet from Evans' limp fingers. "If the sole -purpose of the government is to serve the taxpayers—and there were no -more—how could we justify our existence in office?"</p> - -<p>The President ran his finger under the chin of the little puppet, "Do -you mind if I keep this, Evans?" he asked softly. "I'd like to take it -home to my granddaughter. She's never seen a puppet, I'm sure she'll -love it."</p> - -<p>The tiny figure seemed to smile approvingly.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Puppet Government, by George Revelle - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUPPET GOVERNMENT *** - -***** This file should be named 60401-h.htm or 60401-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/4/0/60401/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Puppet Government - -Author: George Revelle - -Release Date: October 1, 2019 [EBook #60401] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUPPET GOVERNMENT *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - puppet government - - BY GEORGE REVELLE - - _Year after year they came back, - despite his constant refusals. And - still Brandon couldn't figure - out why he was so important...._ - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1957. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Brandon was looking at his desk again. - -An artificial grin spread across the narrow face of the Secretary of -Interior who was watching him closely. The Secretary's pencil-thin -fingers continued to toy with the small, wood figure he was holding. -"Brandon," he tried to lie gracefully, "You're a card. A real card." - -Brandon shifted his position, brought his attention back to the thin -man with the receding hairline. He couldn't, for the life of him, -remember anything humorous he had said or done. He was too tired to be -jovial. The past few days had sapped his strength. He was exhausted and -there were still two more interviews scheduled. - -Good Lord, he thought. Two more! He found his eyes wandering back to -his desk. He would never finish the papers in time. That would mean a -severe penalty. - -"Come now, Brandon. Admit it. You _know_ you want to work for us in -Interior." - -"Right now I don't know anything," Brandon said wearily. "My head is -tired and clouded. I can't think straight." He rubbed his hand across -his forehead, wondering how much longer he would be able to continue to -say no to their requests. He had almost found himself agreeing with the -thin man a few moments ago. That wasn't good. - -Brandon leaned back in the contour chair and let some of the strength -seep back into his outstretched legs. Each year at this time they would -begin to wander in with their strange, outlandish offers of positions -with the government. It was perplexing. - -"Why me?" he asked suddenly. "Why in Interior? I know nothing about -such work?" - -The thin man leaned foreward, "Because you are a good man, Brandon. And -we need good men these days. Government is big business and we want -the top positions filled with the best men we can get. Besides," the -Secretary laughed softly, "you're wasting your time playing with dolls." - -"They aren't dolls!" Brandon said indignantly. - -"So they aren't dolls." - -"There is a difference," Brandon insisted. "You make it sound as if I'm -in my second childhood." - -"All right. Puppets!" The thin man shifted in his chair. He ran his -lean fingers over the hand-painted figure he was holding in one hand. -"But you can see my point." - -Brandon shook his head. That was it. He couldn't see the point. His -puppets were becoming world famous, the result of reviving the almost -lost art of hand carving. He was earning a fair living at it. He could -see no reason for a change. - -"Think of the prestige if you come with us. You will be heading a -department of your own," the Secretary said. - -Brandon wrinkled his brow, thinking of how his name was already -associated with his puppets. If only they would leave him alone, if -only there wasn't so much paper work waiting for him on his desk, he -would be able to spread out, expand, really have a going business. But -they had to keep pestering him with worthless offers that they knew he -couldn't handle, wasting his time, especially now when time was of the -essence. The paper work on his desk had to be completed by midnight. He -would never finish it now. - -Brandon felt the beginning of a headache. Because of the paper work -he hadn't had time to touch a new puppet in months. Now these damn -interviews were keeping him from the desk work. It was a vicious circle -leading to ruin. - -"You will be serving your Country, Brandon," the Secretary said -strongly. "Not fiddling with dolls." - -"I told you...." - -The Secretary held up his hand. "I know. Puppets." - - * * * * * - -Brandon got up and walked to the window and looked out at the setting -sun. It was hard to define; there were some things words couldn't -explain. All the offers had been good ones. But a man had to have some -rule, some yardstick to guide him. Brandon had his. He wanted to -be useful, that wasn't too much to ask. Life was too short to waste -laboring in a position he wasn't fitted for. If he took Interior's -offer all that would be ended. He would be caught in a web which -allowed no escape. - -Brandon turned. "I'm afraid, Mr. Secretary, that you don't understand -my position. It isn't that I feel above being employed by the -President. I have all the respect in the world for him and his office. -I have nothing but respect for you...." - -"Then what is it, Brandon?" - -"I don't think I would be happy taking orders from some one else." - -"We all have a boss, Brandon." - -"I haven't." - -The Secretary grinned. "You can head your own department. The President -and myself will be the only ones you will have to answer to, I promise." - -"That's what I mean," Brandon answered softly. - -The Secretary felt his face flush. "You _are_ insinuating that you are -above working for the President, Mr. Brandon!" he said stiffly. - -"You're twisting words." Brandon's voice was determined. "It's just -that I like to work alone. I like to put my hat on and go, whenever, -and wherever I please." - -The Secretary shook his head "Brandon! I happen to know that you -haven't been off this estate, this property of yours, in the past five -years." - -"That doesn't alter a thing. I can go, anytime I please. I have no -reason to leave now. But when I do, I won't feel obligated, I won't -have to ask permission." - -The Secretary relaxed. "You can do that in the department anytime you -wish. Visit the conservations, then, when you are tired of traipsing -around, you can come back and write up a report or two." The Secretary -cleared his throat. "Just for the records, of course." - -Brandon sighed. "Of course. Just for the records." He brushed back -his thick, black hair and sat down. Damn it. Why couldn't they leave -him alone? That was all he wanted, to be left alone. He was sick of -all this. They knew he wasn't fitted to be a clerk in any of the -departments. Yet they wasted his time offering him important positions, -as if the title would persuade him. Why? - -"We could outlaw your doll-making," the Secretary said casually. - -Brandon shrugged his shoulders. "Harmonics did that with my music -writing, remember! I didn't always do hand-carving." - -The Secretary remembered. He had had an indirect hand in that. It had -been thought that if Brandon was suddenly without income he might -easily be persuaded to accept a position. They hadn't counted on -Brandon's resourcefulness, nor his stubborness. - -The thin man leaned back in his chair, looked again at the doll thing -resting in one hand. The man was clever; there was a life-like quality -to the doll. Brandon was an artist and it would be a shame to take him -out of circulation. Yet what could he do? The President had insisted on -the visit again this year, knowing full well that Brandon would turn -down the offer. - -Suddenly, the Secretary felt sorry for Brandon. The man was breaking -down and didn't realize it. His face was drawn and pale. He looked -dog-tired. - -"Won't you change your mind, Brandon?" the Secretary asked softly. -"With Interior you will have an opportunity to get out into the -sunlight. It will be a healthy life visiting the many conservations we -have situated around the country; it will agree with you, I'm sure." - -Brandon sighed. "I'm afraid, Mr. Secretary, that we are both wasting -our time. I have a tremendous amount of paper work to finish before -midnight tonight and I am tired. I also have a few more interviews -before I can get at it." Brandon got up, "So if you don't mind--" - -The thin man looked at Brandon searchingly. "Won't you reconsider?" - -"I'm afraid not," Brandon answered. - -The Secretary paused at the door. "See you next year, then!" - -"Next year," Brandon answered flatly. - - * * * * * - -The Secretary of Interior hardly spoke to the young man waiting by his -vehicle. He wanted to get away from there as soon as possible. These -yearly visits to Brandon always upset him, made him feel like a cad. It -would be days before he shook the unwanted feeling. - -"How did it go?" the young man asked eagerly. - -The Secretary took in the youngish face, the confidence flowing from -the eyes. Evans always managed to give that youthful impression, yet he -wasn't really a young man. In a way the thin man envied Evans ... with -one exception, of course. This would be Evans' first visit to Brandon. -Some of the confidence would be gone when he walked out of Brandon's -house. - -"I said how did it go?" Evans repeated. - -The Secretary shrugged his thin shoulders. "As usual. He refused." - -Evans showed white, even teeth. "Is he tired?" - -"Very." - -"Excellent," Evans said "And the paper work. Is it worrying him?" - -The thin man studied Evans. No, he didn't envy the man any longer. -Evans had no feelings; it was written on his face. "The paper work is -worrying him to death," he heard himself say. - -"Wonderful!" - -The Secretary became conscious of the small figure he was holding in -his hand. He had walked out with one of Brandon's creations! Suddenly, -he slammed it to the ground. The paint chipped and cracked. The small -head rolled loosely across the lawn. Evans looked at him queerly. - -"I think _you_ need a rest," the young man said softly, unsmiling. - -"Brandon is a good man. I hate to see him broken. He has a lot of -talent. But not for the work we're offering him. It isn't right, -grinding him into the dirt the way we are." - -Evans leaned over, picked up the broken puppet. One arm was twisted at -an odd angle, the clown suit was torn and dirty. Evans tried to fit the -head back on the small body. Finally he succeeded. - -He looked at the Secretary of Interior. His eyes seemed different. "I -have a position he can fill and do a good job. He won't refuse. I'm -sure." Evans walked away, toward Brandon's house, still holding the -broken figure. - - * * * * * - -Brandon stood on the veranda looking across his small estate, in the -direction of the city. The site of the government was located there. -Perhaps that was why he was so reluctant; he lived too close to it, -had it around him day in and day out. The Government was ubiquitous, -omnipresent and omnipotent. It dominated every conversation, every -business, every life from birth to death. Lately it even seemed that -every one he came in contact with held a position with some agency -connected with the government. - -"Mr. Brandon!" - -"I know," he answered without turning. "You're from Labor." - -"We've never met!" - -Brandon turned and took in the lean individual who called himself -Evans. Quite different from the one who had called last year. That one -had been old and grumpy. Brandon's lips parted: "I assumed. All the -other departments have been here except Revenue. I didn't see Wilson -standing outside; I've heard he's out of the country. That leaves you." - -"You could have been wrong, you know," Evans said. - -"How?" Brandon asked without fully caring. - -"Revenue has been split. There are two departments now. Revenue and -Taxation. Taxation handles income from taxpayers only." - -"Big deal," Brandon said harshly, remembering his desk piled high with -papers. - -"They say you are a stubborn man, Brandon." - -"Stubborn?" - -"Quite." - -"Let's say I'm content with my lot." - -"Are you really, Brandon?" - -Brandon took in the young man's wide shoulders, the face that was -almost too young for such a responsible position. For just an instant -he had felt that this man would be different, that there might be a -challenge here. He could see he was wrong. The man was going to offer -him a position. - -"Let's get to the point," he said hurriedly. "I'm happy making puppets -and I feel no need for a change." - -"I'm glad you are happy, Mr. Brandon." - -"Good. Then there is no need to continue. I refuse your offer." Brandon -was getting irritated. He didn't wait for an answer, he walked past -Evans, into the house. - -He stood by his desk. The pile of papers was still resting there, -waiting for him. He had hoped, in some magical way, that they might -have vanished. A foolish thought, he knew. - -"Income tax?" he heard Evans say from his shoulder. - -Brandon nodded wearily. Evans reached over and picked up a form. He -frowned. "Complicated!" - -"Each year it gets worse," Brandon said listlessly. - -"I've never had to file one," Evans said. - -Brandon lifted one eyebrow. - -"Government employees never do. We are paid a flat sum and our -subsistance is taken care of. Calculators and computers adjust our -salary each year in proportion to the expense of the government. We -have been operating out of the red that way for years. It works out -fine." - -Brandon ran his hands through the papers and forms. Why then did he -have to wade through this mess each year when it could be made so -simple? He had been staggering under the load. - -"You're an independent, Brandon," Evans said. "You stay in business -for yourself because you dislike working for someone else. Isn't that -right?" - -"You might say that." - -Evans dangled a handful of papers in front of Brandon's brown eyes. -"You are working for someone else now. The tax department." - -"Not exactly. I don't have to answer to anyone." - -Evans snorted. "Not even the tax collector?" - -"Not unless I make an error," Brandon said stubbornly. "And I won't. -I'm becoming an expert on this. When a man spends one hundred days a -year working on these damn things he learns quite a bit. There will be -no errors." - -"One hundred days!" Evans laughed. "Soon it'll be every day of the -year. Then where will you be?" He looked directly into Brandon's eyes. -"Can't you see? You're in the web already, working a third of the year -without compensation." - -Evans pulled from his pocket the the broken puppet he had picked up -from the driveway outside Brandon's house. He laid it in front of -Brandon on the pile of income tax blanks. "Soon you'll be without -income; your business will deteriorate from lack of attention." - -Brandon said nothing. - -Evans moved to the contour chair and sat down. He closed his eyes. -"You've been out of circulation a long time, Brandon. The world is -changing. Government is big business, one of the largest, and it's -expanding. We need more men, good men." - -Evans opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. "You said you've -become an expert on forms. Would you consider taking a position as head -of the tax department?" he asked abruptly. - -Brandon lifted his gaze from the desk. "I thought you were with labor?" - -"I could arrange it." Evans closed his eyes again. - -"But...." - -"Think, Brandon. As chief of the bureau, you won't have to answer to -anyone, not even the President. You've seen the mess the forms have -become. You can straighten it out." - -"I don't think...." - -"I'll have it put in writing that no one will bother you." - -Brandon stared at the papers on his desk. For the first time they were -offering him a position he understood, one he could handle. It would -be a challenge. He would be in a position to eliminate three-quarters -of that damn paperwork. God knew how many like himself were gradually -getting snowed under each year. - -Brandon played with the puppet. The silly face stared back at him with -a fixed, smiling expression. "Tell me, Evans," he asked idly. "Why so -much effort to locate me in a government position? I've had no special -training; this is the first offer I'm even qualified enough to accept." -He lifted the puppet face high, gazed at its face. "For ten years I've -been pestered." - -Evans laughed as he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. "You have -determination and will-power. We need that type of nature these days -more than ever." Evans' smile became wide. "And you will be one less -taxpayer we will have to worry about now. You'll be on our side." - -Evans pushed all the forms from Brandon's desk with a sweep of his -tanned hand. "Forget all of that, Brandon, forever. No more taxes for -you. This is the last form you will have to sign. It appoints you -Secretary of Taxation, carte blanche." - -"You had all this prepared?" Brandon said in amazement. - -Evans' smile grew wider. "We knew you couldn't refuse an intelligent -offer, one where you would be useful." - -"We!" - -"The cabinet and myself." - -Brandon picked up the pen, twisted it between his fingers. Evans was -right, of course. He would be useful. Half those damn forms were filled -with worthless nonsense that could easily be eliminated. Deductions -should be higher; small, independent business should be given a break. -And he could handle the job--that was important. - -"Just sign on the bottom line," Evans said smoothly, pushing the broken -puppet out of the way. - -The puppet fell to the floor and the head came off again. "Forget it," -Evans said quickly. - -Brandon studied the other man's face before he reached over and -picked up the little figure. It was a funny creature with a large, -silly-looking balloon nose. Brandon handled it tenderly, looking at it -thoughtfully. Finally he said: "My puppets. What happens to them?" - -"I don't understand?" - -"Children enjoy them," Brandon answered. - -"I'm afraid you don't understand, Brandon," Evans shook his head. "I'm -offering you a full-time position. You can make them--as a hobby of -course--give them away, but you can't sell them. That would give you an -income again, mean more tax forms." - -"But I couldn't hope to produce them for nothing," Brandon insisted. -"Not on a large scale, not on the fixed salary that you mentioned!" - -"They aren't important, Brandon." - -Brandon's lips became a firm, straight line. For the first time it -was clear to him why he had been so reluctant to give up his work. His -music had pleased people, just as his puppets were doing now. He was -getting satisfaction out of his work. He was giving people something -no one else seemed to be able to give them. Accepting a position he -couldn't handle, working for someone else had nothing to do with it.... - -"I've changed my mind," he said quietly. - -"Changed your mind?" Evans stared at the pen Brandon had carefully laid -down on the desk; disbelief disfiguring his face. "You intend fighting -_that_ each year?" he pointed at the mad array of papers he had strewn -at Brandon's feet. "You're willing to risk not having any time at all -to work on your puppets against security and a life of ease?" - -"I'm willing," Brandon answered. "Now I think you'd better leave -Mr....." - -"Evans!" - -"Mr. Evans. I might be able to finish these damn things before the -midnight deadline." - -Evans opened his mouth but Brandon was already showing him the way to -the door, shoving something in his hand. - - * * * * * - -Evans climbed into his car and slumped down on the seat beside the -President. He looked at the new puppet Brandon had forced into his hand -before he could refuse. - -"Is Brandon Secretary of Taxation?" the President asked hopefully. - -Evans shook his head from side to side. What had gone wrong? They had -known Brandon was a stubborn man, that was why things were done as they -were. The offering of worthless positions had been a feint. He should -have grabbed at something he could handle. And the tax forms! That was -supposed to be the last straw. They had been loaded, prepared just for -Brandon, to break his resistence. Yet they had failed. Why? - -"Did he suspect?" The President eyed Evans. - -"I don't think so, Sir." Evans said. "I had the pen in his hand. He was -ready to sign. Then something went wrong. I can't understand it!" - -The President looked the other way, found his eyes fastened on his own -reflection on the window. The cabinet had been wrong thinking it was a -job for a psychologist like Evans. Brandon was an individual, a decided -rarity in this day and age. - -"I'm glad," the President said softly to the glass. - -"What was that, Sir?" - -The President turned. "I said, I'm glad he didn't sign." - -"You can't mean that, Sir!" - -"But I do." - -"Do you realize what this means? Brandon was the last taxpayer. We've -been forced to operate an entire bureau just to process his forms. It's -the only department operating in the red. He's the only person not -employed by the government, the only one still operating a private -business!" - -Evans found himself clenching the puppet tightly in his fist. "We -_will_ break him. I know we will. Next year it will take him 365 days -to compute his tax. I promise." - -"Next year," the President said firmly, "Brandon will get a short form. -One that he can complete in ten minutes. Do you understand, Evans?" - -Evans' forehead creased. "I'm afraid--" - -The President looked back at his reflection on the glass. "We don't -want to make the boss angry now, do we Evans?" - -"The boss, Sir?" - -"Brandon, of course," the President smiled. "After all, the government -works for the taxpayers, Evans--and Brandon is the last taxpayer. He's -our boss, son. The only boss we have left." - -"Mr. President. If I might--" - -The President returned his gaze to Evans. "I think we've forgotten -something over these past years, Evans. Something very important." - -"What is that, Sir?" - -The President removed the puppet from Evans' limp fingers. "If the sole -purpose of the government is to serve the taxpayers--and there were no -more--how could we justify our existence in office?" - -The President ran his finger under the chin of the little puppet, "Do -you mind if I keep this, Evans?" he asked softly. "I'd like to take it -home to my granddaughter. She's never seen a puppet, I'm sure she'll -love it." - -The tiny figure seemed to smile approvingly. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Puppet Government, by George Revelle - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUPPET GOVERNMENT *** - -***** This file should be named 60401.txt or 60401.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/4/0/60401/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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