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diff --git a/old/68615-h/68615-h.htm b/old/68615-h/68615-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 1cfdc5b..0000000 --- a/old/68615-h/68615-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1338 +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 Breathes There a Man, by Charles E. Fritch. - </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;} - -/* 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; -} - - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Breathes there a man, by Charles E. Fritch</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Breathes there a man</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Charles E. Fritch</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 26, 2022 [eBook #68615]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREATHES THERE A MAN ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>BREATHES THERE A MAN</h1> - -<h2>BY CHARLES E. FRITCH</h2> - -<p>ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH</p> - -<p>Someone in the place where Dunlop worked was an<br /> -agent of the World Bureau Investigation. But how<br /> -could they suspect him at a time like this? His tracks<br /> -were covered and tangled until even Julie had<br /> -no knowledge of them. Then the robot came....</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Rocket Stories, July 1953.<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>Arthur Dunlop busied himself over the blueprints as though he had a -deep and sincere interest in them, unmindful of the scurry of sounds in -the office. The incessant clicking of electronic typewriters, muffled -though they were, combined to form a hum of angry bees. Papers shuffled -that were important somehow to the welfare of the State, and men and -women sat and looked at them, checking and rechecking, checking and -rechecking, for it was important that nothing should go wrong, any -place, in even the slightest aspect.</p> - -<p>The small square of paper had been dropped on his desk unobtrusively, -and for a brief moment he had stared at it in surprise. Then he covered -it with a casual hand and glanced up in apparent thoughtfulness. A -blonde girl was making her way down the space between rows of metalloid -desks, a bundle of vital-appearing documents in her hands. Arthur -studied the swaying body, as though that were the only thought on his -mind, but the paper burned curiously at his palm.</p> - -<p>He returned quickly to his work of checking blueprints, for idleness -even in a trusted employee was looked upon with suspicion. He bent over -the three-dimensional diagram, feigning interest, and slowly opened the -folded square of paper. On it were written the words: "WBI. Careful." -The words leaped up at him in a green ink that would fade in seconds, -leaving no trace.</p> - -<p>He crushed the paper in his hand, trying hard not to look around him. -WBI. World Bureau of Investigation. Did they suspect? he wondered. He -thrust the thought from his mind and made a conscious effort to study -the drawing on his desk.</p> - -<p>Drawing 2b, one-tenth of the plan for a respirator, newly-designed and -improved, streamlined for the year 2108, Arthur could just imagine the -advertising they'd do on this model. But the other thought crowded it -aside: the underground knew there was a WBI man in the office.</p> - -<p>And just why would there be a WBI man here? Routine? Possibly. Yet more -likely, somebody smelled a rat. This was no time for plans to go awry.</p> - -<p>He looked up, glancing with apparent disinterest at the faces near -him hovering over their respective desks. They, too, were busy -with blueprints. Part 3d of a new atomic engine. Part 14c of a -three-dimensional television set designed to bring in bigger and better -commercials. Et cetera. Et cetera. For security reasons, no two worked -at the same project.</p> - -<p>He scanned their faces, searching for something indefinable, something -that might outwardly betray hidden thoughts. There was Hawkins, -a middle-aged, eagle-faced person, been with the local office of -State Enterprises for more than twenty years—unquestionably loyal -to the government. Merker, a chubby person with shifting eyes behind -thin-lensed glasses; he was okay, for shifting eyes or not, they had -all been checked, even as <i>he</i> had been checked. And Austen, the -newcomer, only twenty-five and fresh from college, a nervous; restless -type of person; he was the most likely suspect for a WBI man, although -some might think it would be too obvious—which might in turn tend to -prove the point.</p> - -<p>Arthur shrugged mentally and returned to his work. He stared at the -design of coils and condensers and wires and felt a little sick, which -was strange for he should have become used to it by now. This design, -together with nine others, would form the complete pattern for printing -a mechanism on a thin disc which would be inserted in the watch-like -affair known as a respirator. It was somehow ironic, he thought that he -should be working on it.</p> - -<p>His intercom buzzed and he reached to flick on the switch. A -business-like voice said: "Dunlop, this is Samson, can you come in for -a minute?"</p> - -<p>"Of course," Arthur said calmly, but he wondered what his superior -wanted. First, the note about a WBI man; now this.</p> - -<p>The big door marked "Charles L. Samson, Mgr., Dept. 40" confronted him. -As he neared it, electric eyes probed him, timed his approach, opened -the door automatically.</p> - -<p>Charles L. Samson, Mgr., Dept. 40, graying and cleanly mustached, was -intently studying a sheet of paper on which were typewritten several -paragraphs. Arthur drew to a halt before the man's desk, unconsciously -fidgeting mentally and wondering if the item of interest on that paper -concerned him.</p> - -<p>The manager carefully put the paper down and raised his eyes. -"Everything okay, Dunlop?"</p> - -<p>"Simply great," he answered automatically.</p> - -<p>The older man leaned back in his chair. "Dunlop," he said, "you've been -here for some time now, I believe."</p> - -<p>"Five years this month," Arthur supplied, trying to put pride in his -voice.</p> - -<p>"Precisely," Samson agreed. "And because you have been a loyal and -dependable worker," he smiled blandly, "you'll find a little something -extra in your pay envelope from now on."</p> - -<p>Arthur breathed a sudden sigh of relief. So that was it, the automatic -pay increase. It meant no financial gain, of course, since he would -also automatically be put in a higher tax bracket which would just -offset the increase. Pay raises were for "morale" purposes only.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, sir," Arthur said, hoping he sounded as though he meant it.</p> - -<p>"Quite all right," Samson said, turning once more to his papers.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir." Arthur strode, relieved, from the office.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The rest of the workday passed uneventfully and it was time to leave. -The soft hum of preparations testified to that. Plans were folded, -locked securely into desks, and workers filed past probing mechanical -eyes that scanned them for anything hidden. Doors whirred open -electrically, and humanity poured through them into tubecars which -hissed with sickening speed to the helibus terminal.</p> - -<p>Arthur flowed into a helibus with the others, and his heart gave a -sudden jump as he saw a familiar blonde form ahead of him. Julie! He -wormed his way forward and sank onto the air-cushion beside her. She -did not look at him. The helibus lurched skyward.</p> - -<p>She was staring out the window, at the blue sky and the cloudfaces and -the sun beginning to dip low at the horizon. The building they had -left glowed with the million setting suns reflected from its great bank -of windows. After awhile, her fingers moved restlessly. Arthur Dunlop -watched them idly. The movements were swift, seemingly random but -actually precise and predetermined.</p> - -<p>They said: "I couldn't hesitate at your desk; I had to take a chance -with the note."</p> - -<p>Arthur glanced complacently about him, stifling a yawn. His fingers -rippled: "Who is the WBI agent?"</p> - -<p>"Underground doesn't know—yet," she told him silently. "Meet me -tonight."</p> - -<p>"Will I see the leader?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Meet me tonight," was all she would reply.</p> - -<p>He nodded, as though to himself, and stared at the signs adorning the -inside of the bus. Names made familiar by television leaped at him. -There was Ronson, Franklin, Stallman, Eliot, names of all kinds to give -the impression of existence to a long-dead free enterprise; all were -government owned, competing to enhance the illusion.</p> - -<p>Who was the leader, he wondered, and why the secrecy? Some government -bigwig probably, who kept his secret from all but a few. Well, time -would tell.</p> - -<p>He glanced out the window at the countryside rushing below. Trees. -Green fields. The beginnings of the city of small square dwellings. A -man got up, went to the rear of the helibus. After awhile, Arthur rose, -went down the aisle to the exit platform. He paused for a minute, and -then he stepped into space.</p> - -<p>The air whirled about him; twin rotors, appearing from his clothing, -churned and scraped the air, lowering him gently through the five -hundred feet to the ground. Overhead, the helibus continued its -prescribed journey, discharging passengers who resembled fluttering -insects. He came to rest gently atop his roof, and the rotors ceased -and folded invisibly beneath his coat.</p> - -<p>The moon had risen well into the twilight sky, that moon which only a -few hundred years before had furnished lovers with inspiration. Now, -looking at it, one thought inevitably of the Lunar Prison Colony that -occupied its entire surface, of the persons who had been sentenced to -spend years on its ugly barren wasteland. Inspiration came possibly, -but it was of a different nature.</p> - -<p>He descended into the house, into the single room that was bedroom, -living room, parlor. Helen, brunette and beautiful, attired in the -semi-transparent slacks that were the decreed style, rose from the -couch and gave him a wifely peck on the cheek.</p> - -<p>"Everything okay?" she asked, not appearing particularly interested. -The standard question.</p> - -<p>"Simply great," he said.</p> - -<p>He settled into a hard plastic chair, uncomfortable but designed to -improve posture.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The television set was blaring: "Nothing could be greater than to have -a respirator made by Fra-a-a-a-nklin!" On the 40-inch screen a happy -couple, Franklin respirators on their happy wrists, were bouncing -happily across a miniature solar system, using planets for stepping -stones.</p> - -<p>I must be an atavist, he thought. How can people actually put up with -this stuff. He could not subdue the grimace that rose automatically, -but he managed to turn it into a grin as he saw Helen looking at him -curiously.</p> - -<p>"Something funny?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing in particular." He couldn't very well tell her he thought a -government-sponsored commercial was amusing. That was the equivalent of -treason, for which the Lunar Prison Colony had been constructed.</p> - -<p>Not that Helen wasn't understanding. Their marriage had been lacking in -many things, true, but she was inclined to be fair and broadminded on -most issues which were not controlled. But when it came to things like -the State and its directives, most people got emotionally patriotic. It -was something like trying to discuss religion a century earlier, except -that in the present case arguments could be easily won by sending the -"treasonous" person to the prison satellite. The law made plain what -was right and what was not.</p> - -<p>"I was just thinking," he said, hoping to explain the grimace, "about a -fellow at the office. He suggested that we should get a rebate on the -airtax, because we don't utilize all the air we breathe in."</p> - -<p>"You reported him, of course."</p> - -<p>"Worse than that. We told him if he didn't like it he could stop -breathing. Crime doesn't pay anymore."</p> - -<p>"I should hope not," she said, and she seemed perfectly serious.</p> - -<p>There was no point in arguing with Helen, so he didn't. She apparently -had little interest in politics other than a layman's desire to see -justice prevail, and if the government wanted to tax the air they -breathed, why—let them; they were taxing everything else.</p> - -<p>That's why he found himself drawn irresistibly to Julie; she wasn't a -slave to convention. That's why he liked to meet her in the darkness -of the outside, when the curfew forbade anyone venturing into the -night—at least, that was one reason. She was part of the forbidden -fruit he secretly desired and vowed would have.</p> - -<p>A government official's benign face appeared on the television screen -to announce the Super State program. The World Flag materialized, -waving in a studio-inspired breeze, and a chorus chanted: "Super State, -Super State, Simply great is Super Sta-a-ate!"</p> - -<p>"Sixty minutes of uninterrupted commercial," Arthur Dunlop thought with -distaste. Plays and songs subtly presented to show that contemporary -living was equivalent to a golden age. He was careful, however, not to -let his face reveal his mind's opinion.</p> - -<p>"The airtax man will be around to read the meter tonight," Helen -reminded him.</p> - -<p>"Fine," he murmured, but already he was only half-aware of the world -around him as he dozed while appearing outwardly alert.</p> - -<p>There was a time, he remembered vaguely, when there were no such -things as respirators, when the air you breathed was free. For twenty -of his thirty-four years he had known that golden era. There were -taxes, of course, but only on the food you ate, the money you earned, -the entertainment you saw, et cetera, almost ad infinitum. Air, it -seemed—much to the government's evident dissatisfaction—was an -untaxable commodity, a luxury which even the poor could enjoy without -restriction.</p> - -<p>Then came the war. The war that caused all peoples to finally unite -under one government to insure peace. Arthur Dunlop knew of the war, -for he was a part of it. He fought back to preserve his life, and they -gave him a medal for it, a piece of cloth and metal which indicated -that he was lucky enough to survive. It was another war to make the -world safe for something or other, and he still recalled with a shudder -the Battle of Boston, the Siege of New York, the great topplings of -great cities into greater dust.</p> - -<p>To counteract the poisonous by-products of civilized weapons, the -respirators had been developed—small watch-like mechanisms that -enabled the wearers to breathe in practically any atmosphere. After the -war, they had been adapted to a new use.</p> - -<p>"What?" Arthur Dunlop said.</p> - -<p>Helen was extending a carton marked "6-C." "Mealtime," she declared.</p> - -<p>He took the box, another development of the Last War, and opened it. -Standardization was the keynote, he remembered, for in that there is -unity. Standardization of clothing, of living, of eating, of thinking.</p> - -<p>He plopped a pill marked "steak" into his mouth, nibbled absently at -the ones labeled "bread" and "potatoes and gravy," and then followed -with a pill called "coffee." It might have been funny had he been able -to view the scene objectively, but the time when he had been able to -do that had long passed. They were the best government-made pills and -tasted not a bit like their labels.</p> - -<p>From the television set, an enthusiastic voice declared: "Ronson Rotors -are the best, Try the thousand foot drop test, Be convinced it'll break -your fall, Ronson Rotors are the best of all!"</p> - -<p>Furiously, Arthur Dunlop chewed on his pill marked "apple pie."</p> - -<p>There was a knock at the door. "Air tax," an authoritative voice -called, and the door slid open to reveal an impassionate face -surrounded by uniform. "Your respirators, please," the face directed in -a monotone. "Monthly check."</p> - -<p>Arthur Dunlop extended his wrist, and the man, frowning importantly, -noted several numbers from the respirator dial and wrote them in a -small black book; he carefully examined the part that would tell if -the device had been removed.</p> - -<p>Arthur resisted an impulse to ask the man for a refund for the Carbon -Dioxide he had exhaled during the past month to see what reaction -he might get. But the man, eager to get ahead, would welcome the -opportunity to report someone less patriotic than he, and there would -follow an investigation. Investigations were taken as a matter of -course, naturally, and even investigators were being investigated with -confusing regularity. But under the present circumstances, Arthur could -hardly afford the risk. Entirely too much was at stake.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"You could use a new respirator," the air tax man said in the tone of a -man who had said this same thing many times before.</p> - -<p>"Yes," Arthur agreed mechanically. "What kind would you suggest?"</p> - -<p>"What kinds do you like?" the man said testily.</p> - -<p>Arthur named the various kinds and the merits professed by each, to -show that he had been attentive to the telecasts. The man, secure in -the knowledge that Arthur was loyal to the cause, left.</p> - -<p>Arthur sighed a vague sigh that could mean almost anything and watched -Helen stretch her long limbs, smooth and sensuous beneath their thin -coverings. He wondered what thoughts, if any, were in her mind, but her -lovely face was vacuous and non-committal as she reclined to dutifully -watch the screen as a good citizen should.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The evening grew old, and with its aging came the insistence of various -televised personalities that each product cavorting about the screen -was undoubtedly the best possible, and anyone who didn't agree was -most certainly an idiot of the most idiotic sort. Actually, since the -government directed the manufacture of all commodities, it mattered -little which product was bought, so long as they were bought. Finally—</p> - -<p>"Time to go to bed," a grandfatherly individual intoned gently from -the set. "Remember: to bed and to rise at a time not late, makes one -healthy and wise for the Super State."</p> - -<p>Arthur grimaced at the benign gentleman's countenance, but Helen set -about pushing the buttons that would transform the room into a bedroom. -Tables slid from sight, twin beds appeared, the lights dimmed.</p> - -<p>They undressed in the dimness, without conversation, as they had these -many years. It was as though they were separated by miles instead of -only a few feet, each unaware of the other's presence.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to grab a fast shower," he told her and headed for the -shower stall. He heard her answering murmur, as he closed the door of -the airtight cubicle. Fingers ran over the dials, and invisible rays -caressed his naked body, cleansing it of impurities with swift silent -radiation.</p> - -<p>When he stepped once more into the main room, Helen was lying unmoving -on her bed. The television set was blank, and an almost inaudible -hypnotic hum came from it, soothing, compelling, lulling. He sat on -the edge of the bed, listening in fascination to the sound. Slowly, it -faded, slowly, slowly....</p> - -<p>He caught himself starting to doze, and he sat upright on the bed -straining to hear the evasive hum. He shook his head violently to clear -it. He wondered how many persons were aware that the noise was actually -a high-frequency voice-recording which in effect hypnotized persons -into sleep, and then instilled into each one's subconsciousness a -faith in the glories of the government. Yet even when you knew, it was -difficult to resist.</p> - -<p>Stealthily, he rose and dressed again in dark silence. He then made -his way across the room to the shower stall, entered, closed the door -securely. A manipulation of the dials, a soft pressure on a portion of -one wall, and a section slid back to reveal a radio apparatus.</p> - -<p>Arthur put the microphone to his lips, spoke swiftly into it, making -contact. A furtive voice, crackled and staticky answered in code. -Arthur gave his part of the ritual.</p> - -<p>"Right," the voice said, relaxing a bit. "Everything okay?"</p> - -<p>"Simply great," Arthur said, putting a smile into the phrase. It was -good to hear George Keating's voice again. "How's everything up there?"</p> - -<p>"Not bad. Nobody suspects anything as far as we know. Shipments are -getting a bit slow, but I expect they'll be heavier before long. Ready -to spring it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," Arthur said. "Oh, one thing though," frowning, "the underground -suspects there's a WBI man in my unit."</p> - -<p>"Anything further? Have they narrowed him down at all."</p> - -<p>"I don't think so. I'm going to a meeting tonight; I managed to talk -Julie into it. If I can, I'll contact you later."</p> - -<p>"Right-o."</p> - -<p>Arthur closed the circuit and sealed the wall again, turning the dials -to a random location. He opened the door of the cubicle and peered -cautiously into the gloom. He thought he detected a furtive movement, -but it was only Helen turning on the bed.</p> - -<p>He crossed the room, noiselessly ascended to the roof and leaped -outward. Blades unfolded to churn the darkness. It was a Stallman -Rotor—their commercials seemed the least offensive—and it deposited -him gently beside his house; just as gently as any Ronson would have -done.</p> - -<p>Ahead of him, the stars glittered frostily in the night. He breathed -the crystal air in great intakes of breath, trying not to remember it -was taxed. Lines from Walter Scott leaped unaccountably to his mind: -"Breathes there a man," he thought, "with soul so dead, who never to -himself hath said, 'This is my own, my native land.'" He felt the last -word could be justly changed to "air" to fit this overtaxed era in -which he lived.</p> - -<p>The moon was out, and he stopped to stare at it. Across its surface, in -letters of fire, were the words: "Buy Air Bonds, A Solid Investment." -There was little practical need for the ad; pay deductions were -arbitrary. Shaking his head sadly, Arthur Dunlop walked into the night.</p> - -<p>Night beckoned, and Arthur Dunlop followed its call. He went willfully, -but he could not have resisted had he wanted to. The streets were -dark, lit only by the moon and the stars, and houses were dark phantoms -rising in the night, their owners lulled to sleep by the omnipresent -television receivers. But he tried not to think of that. He thought -of the cool velvet evening which lay before him, and of the girl who -waited quietly in the shadows of a deserted park.</p> - -<p>He thought of that as he walked into the night, and he thought also of -things more serious, and suddenly—</p> - -<p>—a voice cried: "Stop!" It was a mechanical voice, tinny, without -emotion. "It is the time of curfew. You are not allowed out. Your name?"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Arthur stood, petrified, and stared at a black robot face before him. -He heard a click, loud in the darkness, and knew that his picture had -been taken.</p> - -<p>The sound jarred him from his immobility, and he turned and scampered -into the darkness.</p> - -<p>"Stop," the robot commanded, "Stop!" and a shaft of light darted from -its forehead, piercing the darkness, shriveling grass beneath Arthur's -feet. But the ray missed him, and he darted down the street, amid the -pounding echoes of his flight.</p> - -<p>After several blocks, he threw himself panting into a doorway and -looked back down the street. Nothing. Silence and moonlight and -darkness, and only his own labored breathing while his chest rose and -fell in unaccustomed gasps.</p> - -<p>But they had his picture! In seconds, a giant machine could find a -similar picture in its files, complete with every detail of information -concerning him. They might get him before the work was complete. If he -could only evade them until he could turn this to advantage. He felt in -his pocket for the radioactive silver disc he knew was there.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Down the street, a shadow moved, and he held his breath. In a shaft of -moonlight, black metal glinted darkly. With a muffled cry he slipped -from the doorway and flew down the street, trying to still the noise he -made. Behind him, no sounds came to indicate pursuit.</p> - -<p>He darted across the street, went into an alley, crossed another -street. Finally, he came to the park. He stopped. Fearfully, he looked -behind him. No one. He walked forward.</p> - -<p>The park was a mass of tree and shadow, indistinguishable. Softly, he -called, "Julie." No answer. "Julie."</p> - -<p>A gentle movement, and someone disengaged from the shadows, glided to -him. Someone soft and warm—and feminine. He could smell the elusive -taint of her perfume even before she entered his arms.</p> - -<p>"You're late," she said.</p> - -<p>"I was detained."</p> - -<p>She looked sharply at him. "Trouble?"</p> - -<p>"I—I don't know. A robot surprised me. He took my picture."</p> - -<p>"A robot!" she said in alarm, drawing away from him. "They probably -already know who you are. Were you followed?"</p> - -<p>"Part of the way, but I think I dropped him."</p> - -<p>"You <i>think</i>?" Her tone was worried. "Do you realize you might have led -him here. We can't go to the meeting place now. They'll be searching -for you."</p> - -<p>"And they'll find me if I stay here," he said mournfully. "Now, you've -got to take me, Julie. I've got to go someplace."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Where?" she said. "Where can anyone go—except up there?" With a -motion of her head she indicated the moon, hanging like a grim reminder -of the Prison Colony it contained. She shook her head. "I should've -suspected it when that WBI man showed up. Somehow they've gotten wise -to you. Do you realize you've jeopardized our entire position?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't mean to—"</p> - -<p>"It matters very little whether or not you meant to," Julie said -sharply; "the fact is, you've done it." Her tone softened, "I'm sorry, -Arthur, it's just that—"</p> - -<p>"I understand how you feel," Arthur said gently, taking her in his -arms. "Believe me, Julie, everything will turn out all right."</p> - -<p>"I hope so," Julie said. "Well, we have to do something; we can't stay -here."</p> - -<p>"Take me to the hiding place, Julie," he begged; "we can work out -something from there."</p> - -<p>She looked at him briefly, considering the alternatives, her mind torn -between affection for him and fear for the underground's safety. He -knew she was recalling the many plans they had made for when all this -was over, the legal matter of Helen, their home in a world where the -air was free.</p> - -<p>"If I stay here they will get me," he reasoned. "At least we have a -chance the other way—if we hurry!"</p> - -<p>In sudden determination, she said, "Come on, then."</p> - -<p>She took him by the hand and led him deeper into the park. During the -year he had been an unofficial member of the underground, supplying -them with blueprints, he had never seen their headquarters, but he -suspected it was close by, right under the noses of the authorities, -and Julie did not disappoint him. She led him to a stone-block -monument commemorating heroes of the Last War, and effortlessly pushed -aside one of the blocks to reveal the darkness of a tunnel.</p> - -<p>"Follow me," she directed and disappeared.</p> - -<p>Arthur did, but first he dropped the silver disc a few feet away. When -they were in the tunnel, Julie closed the entrance again and produced a -flashlight. By its beams, they made their way downward.</p> - -<p>They walked for perhaps a half-mile, when the tunnel broadened into -what seemed a cavern. Their footsteps echoed from the opposite wall -with a click-click-click, click-click-click.</p> - -<p>"The old subway," Julie explained, her voice hollow, and Arthur nodded. -With the coming of the helibus system many years ago, the subways had -been discarded and their entrances sealed and checked periodically. Of -course, they couldn't know about the monument entrance. At least, they -hadn't, Arthur amended, thinking of the silver disc whose emanations -could now be easily picked up by the robots.</p> - -<p>"Here we are," Julie said, after awhile, coming to a halt before -a door. She tapped carefully with the flashlight according to a -prearranged signal. The door slid open slightly, emitting a finger of -light from the room's glowtube. A man's face appeared to survey the -corridor briefly, then the door went wide.</p> - -<p>They entered a large room and the door slid into place behind them. -Arthur strained his eyes, blinded temporarily by the light. Unfamiliar -faces stared at him, about twenty of them. Men and women of all ages. -He started suddenly. There, grinning pleasantly at him, was Austen, the -young fellow from the office.</p> - -<p>"Are we all here?" Julie wanted to know.</p> - -<p>"Yes, we were waiting for you," a voice said.</p> - -<p>Arthur whirled. "You?"</p> - -<p>"Everything okay, Dunlop?" Samson asked, smiling.</p> - -<p>"Simply great," he answered, a little weakly.</p> - -<p>"What kept you?" Samson asked Julie.</p> - -<p>"<i>He</i> was delayed by a robot."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>Austen was at the door, frowning. "I thought I heard a noise." His -voice was a whisper.</p> - -<p>Samson pulled out a gun. He glared at Dunlop. "If they followed you—"</p> - -<p>The door gave way with a sudden blast that threw them all to the floor. -In the smoking entrance a robot appeared. With an effort, Samson forced -himself erect and leveled his blaster.</p> - -<p>Before he could fire, Arthur leaped at the man, wrenched the weapon -from his fingers. Then the robot was in the room, then another, and -another, their forehead-rays ready for instant use. There was no escape.</p> - -<p>"Arthur!" Julie cried hoarsely.</p> - -<p>"<i>There's</i> your WBI man," Samson accused.</p> - -<p>Arthur smiled crookedly and held on to the blaster in his hand. He did -not look at Julie, for there was silent contempt and shame in her eyes.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The trial was short and simple, for justice had ceased to be a -complicated thing and was governed by facts considered in the light of -pre-established premises. To offset any possibility of human error, -a great machine unemotionally sifted and weighed facts presented to -it and arrived at a decision. Either those accused were guilty or -they were not guilty, and obviously they were, so the trial itself -and Arthur's testimony were matters of formality. The prisoners were, -of course, duly convicted and sentenced to life on the Lunar Prison -Colony, where life was rumored to be not long.</p> - -<p>However, an unexpected development arose. The Court, it seems, had fed -also into the machine various newly discovered facts concerning Arthur -Dunlop, and the machine, with a figurative eye prefocused on State -security, had arrived at a further pronouncement.</p> - -<p>"You are to be commended," the Court said, as spokesman for the -machine, "for your excellent work as a member of the World Bureau -of Investigation. However, there is a little matter of a radio set -concealed in your home—"</p> - -<p>Arthur's face went white. Helen, he thought. That movement in the -darkness—she hadn't been asleep! Of course. She was loyal to the -cause, even to the extent of betraying her husband; perhaps she even -suspected about Julie. He almost laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>"But that was for emergency use," he pleaded, knowing it would do no -good, "to contact the WBI when necessary."</p> - -<p>"That may be," the Court conceded. "However, it was unauthorized, and -it is even possible that its use might be harmful to the State. Until -we can investigate further, you will be sentenced to a temporary term -of one year on the Lunar Prison Colony, after which your case will be -automatically up for review. I understand you applied for Lunar duty. -This will give you an excellent opportunity to become acquainted with -conditions firsthand."</p> - -<p>The Court's gavel fell, an archaic but effective symbol of the passing -of judgment. He did not look at the other prisoners who sat gloating -nearby, even in the losing of their cause. Strange, Arthur Dunlop -thought almost unemotionally, the way things had turned out....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Lunar Prison ship came down out of the sky like a gray-metal -coffin, settling with infinite slowness to the dock where the prisoners -waited silently. The airlock opened and a gangplank stretched its -finger towards them. A blond uniformed man strode from the ship, his -Captain's bars glinting in the afternoon sunlight.</p> - -<p>The Earthguard came forward, holding out a list of names. "Some -additions to your labor camp, my dear Captain," he said jovially.</p> - -<p>"And welcome they'll be," the Captain said, an indefinable glint in his -eyes. "We have a lot of work to accomplish up there."</p> - -<p>"So I've heard," the guard said.</p> - -<p>The Captain smiled. "You haven't heard the half of it," he said, -winking, and the guard guffawed.</p> - -<p>"All right, all right," Samson growled irritably. "If we're going, -let's go."</p> - -<p>"Patience, friend," the blond Captain admonished. "Right this way now, -that's right, through the airlock, take your seats as I call them off. -Dunlop, one; Samson, two; Austen, three...."</p> - -<p>Arthur filed silently into the spaceship, Samson and Julie and the -others behind him. He took a seat and looked around.</p> - -<p>He cried out at what he saw, and then Samson's hands were upon his -neck, squeezing with the fury of a man possessed by one thought. He -felt his breath being cut off, the room darken. They fell into the -aisle. He could hear shouts of vengeance around him, and he thought he -heard Julie's frantic voice telling them to stop. Julie—</p> - -<p>The airlock clanged with awful finality, and there was a sickening rush -as the spaceship darted aloft. Uncushioned bodies flew, and Arthur felt -the pressure on his throat ease.</p> - -<p>He blinked open his eyes, forced himself erect. The blond Captain was -bending over him. "You okay?"</p> - -<p>"Still alive, George," he said, massaging his throat, "but I think we'd -better tell them before I need a new head."</p> - -<p>"George?" Julie said, puzzled. "You two know each other?"</p> - -<p>"We were in the war together," the Captain said.</p> - -<p>Arthur rose unsteadily. "I'd like you people to meet my best friend, -George Keating."</p> - -<p>"But—"</p> - -<p>"We decided some time ago that Earth is no place for an underground -movement," Arthur said. "There's too much secrecy, too much danger -involved in the slightest movement away from the established pattern. -People are too involved with the Super State idea and the dangers to -their own particular skins." Like my wife, Helen, he thought to himself.</p> - -<p>"There's one place, though," George Keating supplied, "where the -inhabitants are in perfect accord with overthrowing the government as -it now exists."</p> - -<p>"Where?" Samson asked skeptically.</p> - -<p>"Where else," Arthur told him, smiling, "but the Moon, on the prison -colony where people were sent because they didn't like the way -things were turning out politically and otherwise on Earth. It was a -comparatively simple matter to replace the guards with our own group."</p> - -<p>"Then," Julie exclaimed, "then you were in on this all the time. It was -part of a plan."</p> - -<p>Arthur nodded. "All except Helen's turning me in, which was unexpected -but just as well I suppose. We're almost ready for the ultimatum, and -we wanted this group to aid us, which is why I betrayed you. We could -have whisked you away secretly, but there was greater danger in that -and the disappearance of an individual, much less a group, couldn't -go unnoticed in that society. Besides, this way they'll be more -complacent."</p> - -<p>"As I told that guard," Keating added, "we've still got a lot of work -to do, chiefly on the other side of the Moon where Earth can't see—put -the finishing touches on spaceships we've been building, assemble the -weapons and the guided missiles. A lot of work. We may not have to use -them—I hope we don't—but they'll be ready, just in case."</p> - -<p>Samson wet his lips. "It's a big project," he said testily.</p> - -<p>"Of course," Arthur admitted, smiling. He indicated a porthole. "But -look at Earth down there."</p> - -<p>They crowded to see. It was a large green ball, glowing iridescently, -becoming smaller as they approached the prison colony that was not a -prison colony. Julie shrank into Arthur's arms.</p> - -<p>"It's beautiful," she said.</p> - -<p>Austen said, "Why, it looks fragile, like you could reach out from here -and—and smash it." There was awe and wonder in his voice.</p> - -<p>"You can," Keating said, "if necessary." His eyes narrowed. "It's a -perfect target, a sitting duck from the sky. Who owns the Moon controls -Earth."</p> - -<p>"I'd like to apologize," Samson said, offering his outstretched hand to -Arthur.</p> - -<p>"Me, too," Julie said.</p> - -<p>"I'll accept both apologies," Arthur Dunlop said, "but from you, Julie, -I won't settle for a handshake."</p> - -<p>Julie took the hint.</p> - -<p>"We have a lot of time yet, so we may as well all relax," Keating -announced. "Arthur and I can brief you on the situation as it stands." -He grinned. "If he ever comes up for air!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They laughed the laughter of free men and gazed through the porthole at -their destination. 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