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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-07-03 03:50:45 -0700 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-07-03 03:50:45 -0700 |
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diff --git a/79008-h/79008-h.htm b/79008-h/79008-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..11787df --- /dev/null +++ b/79008-h/79008-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1213 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="format-detection" content="telephone=no,date=no,address=no,email=no,url=no"> + <title> + Wheels | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + + +blockquote { + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + + +figcaption {font-weight: bold;} +figcaption p {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: .2em; text-align: inherit;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + +.f15 {font-size: 1.5em;} +img.w20 {width: 20em;} +img.w30 {width: 30em;} + + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp53 {width: 53%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp53 {width: 100%;} +.illowp48 {width: 48%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp48 {width: 100%;} + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79008 ***</div> + + +<figure class="figcenter illowp53" id="cover" style="max-width: 113.875em;"> + <img class="w20" src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>Transcribed from Future Science Fiction, February 1958 (#35).</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> +<h1> +Wheels +</h1> + + +<p class="f15 center">by <strong>Michael Zuroy</strong></p> + + +<p class="center">Illustrated by <strong>Freas</strong></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> +<blockquote> +<p><b>Ker Kermit plotted better than he realized when he entered his +superior’s name, along with his own, in the Fly-Wheels exhibition in +honor of visiting aliens. For if Alph Agar lost, he would lose his +life!</b></p> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> + + +<p>Alone in his office, Alph Agar, Director of the Ossining Unit of +Budd-Jarvis Fly-Wheels, was crouching over his desk, clenched hands +rotating alternately clock-wise and counterclockwise. Thus occupied, +he did not hear his secretary come in. “What—what’s the matter?” gasped +Jean-Jean.</p> + +<p>Agar straightened slowly, feeling a complete fool. A man +should not allow his secretary to catch him in such a ridiculous +position. What was he to tell Jean-Jean? Not the truth, certainly.</p> + +<p>“Torgian calisthenics,” explained Agar. “No need to be alarmed, +Jean-Jean. Simply a new variation; very relaxing.”</p> + +<p>Jean-Jean gave him +a long look and went to her desk. He grew absorbed in the back of her +neck, the coppery hair, and the clean-limbed figure in the iridescent +green tunic. Why, thought Agar, must he always be remembering his +dignity as a Director? Why couldn’t he just stride over to her, and....</p> + +<p>And what? When had he ever known how to handle a woman? Preparation for +the Director of a Fly-Wheel unit had not included instruction on the +opposite sex. From his boyhood there had been long years of scientific, +mathematical, engineering, statistical, financial, economic and legal +schooling; there had been single-minded dedication to his job as he +struggled up wards through man-killing competition. There had been no +time for women.</p> + +<p>So that here he was at +thirty-six, holder of one of the world’s more responsible positions, +director and coordinator of a complex plant covering more than five +square miles and employing over eight thousand people, and without the +slightest notion as to how to approach a girl like Jean-Jean.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He hadn’t +minded too much, up to now. But Jean-Jean... well, it was a warming, +if far-fetched, thought that someday she might call him by the +intimate, Alph, instead of the formal, Alph Agar. Close friends and +relatives, wives and sweethearts used the intimate; nobody, except his +immediate family, had ever called him Alph....</p> + +<p>Ker Kermit, Assistant +Director of the Fly-Wheel unit, stepped into the office, crackling, +“Good-morning, good-morning, good-morning.” He threw his wiry frame +into a zilxitron chair and ran a hand over his crisp black hair, +watching Agar with an alert expression.</p> + +<p>Agar passed a hand over his +eyes. The man made him weary. It wasn’t so much that he knew Kermit +was after his job; that was to be expected, he supposed. It was that +boundless, efficient energy. He, himself, was exhausted at the end +of a day; where did Kermit get that eternal drive?</p> + +<p>“What can I do for you, Ker Kermit?”</p> + +<p>“Old fellow,” said Kermit. When Kermit said, +‘old fellow’, thought Agar, it did not sound idiomatic; it sounded as +if it meant, old fellow. “I knew you’d be pleased,” said Kermit, a +combination of mockery and triumph glinting in his eyes. “I took the +liberty of entering your name together with my own. I know you must +be a crack Fly-Wheel pilot. Of course, the Board will contact you for +personal confirmation, and if you’d like to back out, I’m sure they’ll +understand.”</p> + +<p>Agar noticed Jean-Jean’s ears assume a listening look. +“Wait a minute,” he said slowly. “Are you talking about the exhibitions +in honor of the visiting Betelgeusians? You entered my name, as a +participant?”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Kermit looked at him with a show of anxiety. “You are +pleased, I hope, Alph Agar? I’m in it myself, you know. The notice from +the Board expressed a desire for volunteers from the executive level, +and so I thought the least we could do.... Like most executives, you +are a crack pilot—I’m sure of that, even though I can’t recall ever +seeing you pilot a Fly-Wheel. You seem to prefer a personal chauffeur at +all times, don’t you, Alph Agar? Some narrow minds might deduce from +that, that... but that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? I am positive +that you are an expert pilot, Alph Agar.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, of course,” said +Agar. “Well, thank you Ker Kermit.”</p> + +<p>“You’re entirely welcome.” The glint +of mockery showed once more in Kermit’s eyes and he left.</p> + +<p>Jean-Jean +swung around in her chair. “That Ker Kermit!” she burst out, her pretty +face tight with anger. “Of all the insufferable....”</p> + +<p>“Jean-Jean,” said +Agar dully. “I may as well tell you. I can’t operate a Fly-Wheel.”</p> + +<p>“You mean... at all?”</p> + +<p>“At all.”</p> + +<p>“But that’s impossible, Alph Agar! +<i>Everybody</i> operates Fly-Wheels nowadays! Old ladies, invalids, children, +everybody! Even dogs have been trained to pilot Fly-Wheels. Do you +expect me to believe that you, Director of a Fly-Wheel Manufacturing +Unit, can’t pilot one?”</p> + +<p>“No, I can’t,” said Agar.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Jean-Jean stared at +him, adjusting herself to the idea. Once adjusted, she became decisive. +“All right then, you’ll simply tell the Board that Ker Kermit submitted +your name without your knowledge or permission, and that you don’t +wish to participate in the exhibition.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Agar, miserably. “I +can’t do that either. In the first place, they wouldn’t like my backing +out; but more important than that, in their thorough-going way they +would investigate further, and discover that I don’t hold a Fly-Wheel +operator’s license.”</p> + +<p>Jean-Jean looked impatient. “So what? A Director +is not required to operate Fly-Wheels.”</p> + +<p>“That’s where you’re wrong.” +Agar extracted an old, green-bound book from his desk drawer, and +flipped it open. “I ran across this recently. Listen.”</p> + +<p>He read aloud: +“Article 1382 of Budd-Jarvis Regulations of 2124; ‘<i>No person may hold +an office higher than that of Sub-chief unless he is the holder of a +license to drive a Fly-Wheel, and furthermore possesses such skill in +operation of said vehicle as to warrant a rating of .85-L Wullen or +better from a competent board of examiners</i>’.”</p> + +<p>Jean-Jean’s clear grey +eyes met Agar’s, and hastily he tried to tune out something that went +beat-beat-beat under his ribs. “They made you Director anyway, didn’t +they?” said Jean-Jean. “Doesn’t that mean that this old regulation no +longer applies? After all, it’s dated 2124, sixty years ago.”</p> + +<p>“No,” +said Agar. “It simply means that they’ve lost track of the regulation, +and so didn’t bother to check me for a Fly-Wheel license. I suppose +that after Fly-Wheel operation became so easy +and universal that everybody satisfied the requirement, the Board +dropped examination on this point and the regulation passed into +obscurity. However, I’ve looked into it, and it’s still a legitimate +company rule. An investigation would dredge it up, and you know how +the Board abides by rules, and how nosey they are. That’s why I can’t +back out now and risk arousing their disapproval and curiosity.”</p> + +<p>“All right, I see that. But they’ll find you out at the exhibition +anyway.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“No, they won’t,” said Agar grimly. “The exhibition is a few +weeks off, and by that time I intend to have my license. I’m taking +lessons from my chauffeur; been doing so since I discovered Article +1382. Practice all the time. That’s what I was doing when you walked +in before; practicing parking.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I wondered. I’m glad it was only that. How are you doing?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I admit I’m having a little trouble. +Can’t seem to get the feel of it exactly. Never had any time for that +kind of thing before. But I’ll get it, Jean-Jean, see if I don’t.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but what about Ker Kermit? How much does he know?”</p> + +<p>“Ker Kermit +suspects that I am not a good pilot, and so is trying to embarrass +me; but you may be sure he knows nothing about Article 1382. If he +did, in the time it takes to buzz a Talkasee the Prime Executive Board +would have had the information, and....”</p> + +<p>The Talkasee buzzed. Jean-Jean +answered, and switched the call to Agar. The slight frame of Pawl +Pastin, Secretary of the Prime Executive Board appeared on the screen. +“Good day,” said Pastin in his dry, precise tones. “I understand that +you wish to volunteer for the Betelgeusian exhibition. I hope this is +correct?”</p> + +<p>“Well... yes, it’s correct.”</p> + +<p>“Good!” said Pastin, rubbing +his hands together. “The Board is pleased. Although, we’ve put this on +a voluntary basis, we’re extremely desirous that our top executives +participate. You understand that this is meant to secure the approval +of the Betelgeusians, among whom it is a tradition that those who +are highly placed should risk their lives in competition. But you’ve +read about all this in the notice. Brave man, Alph Agar, brave man! +Good luck!” Pastin clicked off.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Agar sat appalled. Brave man? What +was this about risk of life? He hadn’t read the notice, only glanced +at the first couple of lines. “Jean-Jean!” he yelled; “hand me that +notice!”</p> + +<p>He read, with Jean-Jean following over his shoulder:</p> + +<p>“...<i>competitive races and exhibitions of skill in the operation +of Fly-Wheels to be held in honor of the Betelgeusians, since they +are considering importing Fly-Wheels for use as their principal +mode of transportation ... would mean largest mass-order in Budd-Jarvis +history ... also top diplomatic importance to Earth Government in view of +pending trade agreements ... in accordance with Betelgeusian tradition, +participant who makes poorest rating will be killed. BY ORDER OF THE +PRIME EXECUTIVE BOARD</i>...”</p> + +<p>“Killed?” Jean-Jean’s face looked worried.</p> + +<p>“Must be a typographical error. What could they mean?” speculated +Agar. “Spilled? Chilled? Billed? Filled? Get me Pawl Pastin again.”</p> + +<p>“Killed,” said Pastin dryly, after they were connected. “Put to death. +Executed. Deprived of life. I thought you understood that.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“That’s ridiculous,” snapped Agar. “Budd-Jarvis has no legal right to +put anyone to death, nor has +the Government. This is the Twenty-Second century, you know. Execution +is not legal.”</p> + +<p>“Incorrect. Quote: Article 101,379, Budd-Jarvis Code: +‘<i>Any person in the employ of Budd-Jarvis holding office higher than +that of Sub-Chief having signed the standard acceptance of the +Budd-Jarvis Code, is subject to deprivation of life when continuance +of said life constitutes a threat of .798 Bakli rating or better to +the interests of the Company. Said rating to be verified by a board of +Government Raters, and said deprivation to be performed with the permission +of and under the supervision of the Government. Compensation to +beneficiaries of the deceased to be made in the amount of fifty-thousand +munits. Precedents: Dool Dooling case, 2085. Zeno Zerkel Case, 2096.</i>’ +Unquote.”</p> + +<p>“The continuance of the life of the loser of the forth-coming +competition would cause disapproval among the Betelgeusians, and +therefore constitute a threat to the interests of the Company. Is that +clear?”</p> + +<p>“The Government will never approve this!”</p> + +<p>“The Government,” +said Pastin drily, “has rated the threat at .839 Bakli, and has +therefore already approved it.”</p> + +<p>“In that case, I withdraw from the exhibition.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry; you have volunteered of your own free will +and been accepted. We cannot change that any more. The only way you +can withdraw is to resign your Directorship.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see about that!” +yelled Agar, and clicked off. “Get me Unit C4439 of the Information +Bank of the Master Law and Policy Machine,” +he directed Jean-Jean.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Through its fixed smile, C4439 said in its +pleasantly human voice. “Data, please.”</p> + +<p>Agar gave the data.</p> + +<p>“Point,” +said C4439. “B-J Code, Article 101,379 does so state. Point: Employee +who has signed standard acceptance agreement of Code is legally bound +by 101,379. Point: Government, however, rarely grants permission to +execute. Point: Exception: Where execution is sufficiently to the +public interest, Government grants permission. Point: This is now the +case. Point: All agreements being binding, only way to withdraw from +competition is to exercise the one right remaining: resignation of +Directorship. End of points. Further data, please?”</p> + +<p>“No further data!” +Agar shouted.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” smiled Unit C4439. “I am disconnecting. +May you dwell in happiness.” The screen went blank.</p> + +<p>“Now what fool put +that expression into that robot!” raged Agar.</p> + +<p>Jean-Jean was standing +before him, worried. “Alph Agar, you must resign.”</p> + +<p>Alph Agar went to +the window. The panorama spreading below him was the Unit: the huge, +low buildings, the landscaped parks, the testing fields stretching to +the horizon, the web of roads, the Fly-Wheels of all classes, rolling +across the skies, rising and landing, spinning along the roads.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Agar watched the Fly-Wheels that had been all of his life up to now: the +tremendous flat-rimmed wheel rotating about the stationery cylindrical +cabin; the all-purpose vehicle that was equally at home in the air, +on land, on water or under water. He knew every last detail of its +construction, every principle and theory upon which it was founded. He +knew, down to the ninth decimal place, the critical angular velocity +which would take it off the vanes along its periphery on lift and +velocity; the intricacies of its sealed atomic power plant that never +needed attention and would outlast the vehicle itself.</p> + +<p>He knew these +things, he thought, but he couldn’t operate a Fly-Wheel. Because of +this; and because of Ker Kermit, who wanted his job; and because of a +quirk of circumstance, was he to relinquish everything that had given +his existence meaning? No, thought Agar, not this easily, not without a +struggle.</p> + +<p>“I will not resign,” he said to Jean-Jean. “I will acquire a +license and enter that exhibition and do my best.”</p> + +<p>“And lose. Honestly, +Alph Agar, you’re the most stubborn....” She was beginning to look +angry. “How can you compete with people who are born pilots? You’re +not the pilot type, you know. You’re stiff, you’re methodical, you’re +deliberate. You don’t know how to relax. In a Fly-Wheel, you have to let +yourself go; you have to become part of it, move with it, feel with +it, not sit in it like a passenger.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Stiff, thought Alph Agar. +Methodical. Deliberate. So this was Jean-Jean’s picture of him. Hardly +a romantic conception. Well, he supposed he was a fool to imagine she +might someday come tenderly into his arms, her brisk manner turned +soft for him, her ripe lips waiting for his, her body that was both +girl’s and woman’s yielding for him, her.... “Hrrrmph!” He cleared his +throat and shook his head.</p> + +<p>What was the matter with him? Where was +his mental discipline? For a fleeting moment, he wondered what would +happen if he simply followed his impulse and walked up to Jean-Jean +and grasped her firmly; then the discipline took rigid hold. Impulses, +he knew, should not be trusted. What, after all, would Jean-Jean +want with a man like him?</p> + +<p>“Alph Agar,” said Jean-Jean again, “is the +Directorship more important than your life?”</p> + +<p>“The Directorship is +my life.”</p> + +<p>She stared at him, her hazel eyes seeming to moisten and +then narrow. “Yes. I suppose it is. I suppose it is. Oh, you boob!”</p> + +<p>“Boob?”</p> + +<p>“Archaic, twentieth century. Look it up.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute. Where +are you going?”</p> + +<p>“I’m taking the rest of the day off,” said Jean-Jean +tightly. “I’m going to see my boy-friend.”</p> + +<p>“Jean-Jean....” But she was +gone.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>From several thousand feet above the ground, Alph Agar surveyed +the view. Beautiful, he supposed, but frightening. Once he got up here, +he could never quite escape the notion that man’s natural place was +on the ground. However, he thought, he wasn’t doing too badly lately. +His grip on the controls was firm. The Fly-Wheel was coursing along +smoothly, maintaining a consistent level. He glanced at the man sitting +beside him, his chauffeur, Kim Koom. “All right?”</p> + +<p>Kim Koom licked his +lips nervously. “All right, Alph Agar, but please don’t look at me; +don’t let your attention wander from your piloting.”</p> + +<p>“Come, come, I’ve +made some improvement, Koom. I might be allowed a little more freedom +don’t you think?”</p> + +<p>“The controls,” said Koom. “Watch the controls.”</p> + +<p>Agar focused on his piloting again. Any way, he +thought, he was feeling a shade more confident. He had handled things +pretty well, lately. Take the matter of that weasel, Ker Kermit. He +had been icily distant to Kermit, but polite, not allowing the man +to suspect that he was worried. And Jean-Jean; he had been pleasant +but impersonal with her, restraining any hint of his feelings.</p> + +<p>“All +right,” said Koom. “Land.”</p> + +<p>Absently, Agar headed the Fly-Wheel towards +the secluded field behind his house. “No!” yelled Koom abruptly. “Not +like that!”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The clouds above them began speeding down towards them, +then receding even faster. The big wheel started a drunken wobble +about the sky which changed into a wild, tilted dance. Spinning like +a top, it went plummeting into the woods, levelling off at the tree +tops, sending down showers of leaves and branches, frightening small +animals into scurrying panic; it scraped over a high, rocky ledge, +hopped high one last time, and plowed deep furrows, finally rolling +to a trembling halt.</p> + +<p>Koom seemed shaken. He opened his mouth several +times, producing only a gulp. Agar helped him out of the cabin, +noticing that a young man who had been standing at the edge of the +field was heading their way. “Alph Agar,” said Koom weakly. “I have +had enough. I cannot instruct you any longer. My nerve is gone. I’m +sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Kim Koom, I admit that landing wasn’t perfect, +but....”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Koom with finality, staggering off.</p> + +<p>What was the +use, thought Agar? If even Koom was giving him up.... The young man was +close now. With surprise, Agar recognized Lar Lerry, one of the Unit’s +crack pilots. What was he doing here?</p> + +<p>“Zoops!” said Lerry. “What a +landing!”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Agar eyed him sternly. “Why aren’t you at work?”</p> + +<p>“Zoops!” +repeated Lerry. “What a landing.” He grinned. “Look, Alph Agar, I know +all about it. Don’t ask me how I know; I’m not supposed to tell, but +I’m here to help you. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Now +let’s take her up again; I can teach you how to handle a Fly-Wheel if +anybody can.”</p> + +<p>In the days that followed, Agar had to admit that Lerry +was helping him. For the first time, his awkwardness at the controls +seemed to be lessening. The Fly-Wheel was actually obeying him for +more than five minutes at a time. When he wanted to soar, he +soared. When he wanted to tilt, he tilted. When he wanted to roll along +the ground, he rolled. He began to feel hope, real hope. Perhaps he +might fool Ker Kermit and Jean-Jean and come out of that exhibition +alive, after all.</p> + +<p>“You’ll be taking your license qual pretty soon,” +Lerry told him. “Just a few more lessons. Then I’ll show you how to +make this rolly-polly sit up and beg.”</p> + +<p>But getting any other type +of information out of Lerry was impossible. He wouldn’t explain why +he was helping Agar, or who might have put him up to it, or how he +had discovered Agar’s predicament. Agar spent hours in surmise, and +always returned to the suspicion that this was Jean-Jean’s doing. Was +Lerry the boy-friend she kept mentioning? Was Jean-Jean doing this +because she felt sorry for him? Pity wasn’t what he wanted from her.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“Don’t be silly, Alph Agar,” Jean-Jean said, tossing her shining, +coppery hair back, when he asked her point-blank. “Why should I try to +help a man as stubborn as you are? In my opinion, you ought to resign +right now. That’s the only way to save your life. Suppose I call the +Board?” She looked eager.</p> + +<p>“Never mind.” Jean-Jean turned away and began +furiously talking at the Speak-a-Type, which rattled and stuttered +as the type keys tried to keep up with her.</p> + +<p>Still, Agar’s confidence +was rising, despite frequent periods of disquiet, as for example +whenever he spoke to Ker Kermit. Kermit seemed a mine of unsettling +information lately. “Old fellow,” he would say, “have you heard how +they intend to conduct the execution of the unfortunate loser? Not +in decent privacy, but according to Betelgeusian custom, out on the +field before all the spectators. They’re going to chop the poor chap’s +head quite off with an axe. Barbarous, don’t you think? Fortunately, +I don’t suppose either of us has anything to worry about.” He would +look at Agar blandly.</p> + +<p>As the date of the exhibition drew nearer, Agar +found it difficult to avoid thinking of that axe, but his increasing +proficiency with the Fly-Wheel helped a lot. He was a long way from +the effortless control that a good pilot had, but still he felt that +he had a chance.</p> + +<p>“One more hop,” Lar Lerry said, “and then you’ll +take the license qual.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The take-off was good. Agar sent the Wheel +rolling up towards the clouds as though it were climbing an easy hill. +Levelling, he cruised for a while, approaching the Unit. It was a +warming feeling, doing his own flying near +the Unit instead of being chauffeured.</p> + +<p>A line of Fly-Wheels from the +Unit appeared dead ahead, crossing in front of him. Plenty of time to +clear, thought Agar. Deliberately, he selected what he believed to +be the elevation control and pulled it. The Wheel did not elevate, +but tilted to a forty-five degree angle, still closing in fast on the +other Fly-Wheels. Hastily, Agar did several other things, none of which +he was entirely clear about afterwards.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp48" id="007" style="max-width: 30.0625em;"> + <img class="w30" src="images/007.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>The Fly-Wheel zoomed into the shop....</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> + +<p>The sound of the air stream +changed into a hideous scream, and end-over-end, the Fly-Wheel flipped +over the other vehicles; spun wildly; dropped earthwards and skimmed +the ground, scattering a group of Unit employees. It headed for one +of the buildings; swerved through the huge open window into the shop, +paralyzing the workers in there, and shot out the opposite window +taking the glass with it. It traced a perfect series of sine curves +in the air; sheared off a flag pole; neatly clipped a line of hedges, +darted about the testing fields like an insane horse fly; mounted +towards the stratosphere until it was a scarcely-visible dot, and came +whistling down at a fearful velocity, causing a nearby meteorological +observatory to suspect the presence of a small meteorite. It levelled +off just before smashing into the ground, chased itself around the +field and came to a teetering halt. A moment of shocked silence held +the entire Unit motionless; then from all directions people began +streaming towards the Fly-Wheel. Lar Lerry sat motionless in his seat, +a dreamy look in his eyes, nodding his head slowly as though he had +discovered some age-old secret.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>A husky foreman pounded on the door. +“Come out of there, you miserable idiots. What kind of stuff are you... +oh, it’s you, Alph Agar. I beg your pardon, Alph Agar.”</p> + +<p>Agar descended +from the Wheel, leading Lar Lerry, and found himself in the midst of +a buzzing crowd. “It’s quite all right,” he said, and looked about at +the curious, startled faces. “I... er... that is, well I was flying, +merely flying. What is all the disturbance about?” Ker Kermit pushed +through the mob, smiling. “Oh, Director! A trifle wild, wouldn’t you +say? You aren’t hurt, I hope?”</p> + +<p>Jean-Jean appeared. “Alph Agar, for +goodness sake!”</p> + +<p>Lar Lerry came awake. He eyed Agar skittishly. “No,” he +said. “No more. I’m through.” He spotted Jean-Jean. “Honey, I’m sorry, +but I’ve had enough. I’d like to finish this job for you, but it’s too +risky. I give up.”</p> + +<p>Agar stared at Jean-Jean and the world +slowly grew dreary. Pity! Jean-Jean <i>had</i> influenced her boy-friend, Lar +Lerry, to help him because she felt sorry for him. Pity! He didn’t +want it.</p> + +<p>Well, he thought, it didn’t matter anyway. He was through. +He couldn’t operate a Fly-Wheel and he’d never learn. He could feel +the sharp edge of that axe slicing through his neck now. Unless he +resigned.</p> + +<p>“Alph Agar,” said Jean-Jean. “Pawl Pastin called. He wants +you to call him back.” She didn’t meet his eyes.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Glad to escape the +crowd, Agar returned to the office, accompanied by a silent Jean-Jean, +and part of the way by a lively Ker Kermit. He’d been deluding +himself, Agar thought. He didn’t have a chance. Should he give up the +Directorship? To save his life, could he throw away everything he had +worked for?</p> + +<p>Frankly, thought Agar, he could. When the chips were down, +he would react the same as anybody else to save his life, he realized. +Life, after all, was worth more than a Directorship, it came to him. +Whatever Pastin had in mind, he would hand in his resignation now.</p> + +<p>But +when Pastin appeared on the Talkassee screen, his first words staggered +Agar. His dry, precise voice had a suggestion of asperity in it. “Good +day. It has come to the attention of the board that in violation of +Article 1382 you do not hold a Fly-Wheel operator’s license. Is this +correct?”</p> + +<p>How had Pastin found out? Well, the decision was out of his +hands now. In a way, it was a relief that it was over. “Yes, that is +correct.”</p> + +<p>“Therefore it is necessary that you be dismissed from your +Directorship, after the exhibition.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course, Pawl Pastin ... did +you say <i>after</i> the exhibition?”</p> + +<p>“After the exhibition.”</p> + +<p>“But that’s ridiculous! Why should I risk my life when I’m to be dismissed? +I resign now!”</p> + +<p>“Sorry. Whether you resign or are dismissed, it is now too late +to withdraw. The list of participants has already been presented to the +Betelgeusian delegation and cannot be altered. You must participate in +the exhibition. If you wished to resign, you should have done so when +you had the chance. Rules are rules, Alph Agar. This organization has +become great through its policy of rigid adherence to rules. You should +know that.”</p> + +<p>“I refuse to participate!” snapped Agar.</p> + +<p>“In that case you +will automatically receive low rating and will be executed.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see about that! Good day!”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Agar called Unit C4439 of the Information Bank of the Master Law and Policy Machine and +described the situation.</p> + +<p>“Point,” intoned Unit C4439, “it is true that +list has been submitted. Point: Betelgeusian custom requires that low +rating be given to any who withdraw. Execution must follow. Point: +To be consistent with previous policy, Budd-Jarvis and Government +must go along with Betelgeusian custom. Point: Your violation of +Article 1382 now gives Budd-Jarvis option of dismissal date, as per +Company Article 589,624.3. Point: Therefore Budd-Jarvis attitude in +this matter is legal and correct. No appeal possible. End of points. +Further data, please?”</p> + +<p>“No further data.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” smiled Unit +C4439. “I am disconnecting. May you dwell in happiness.”</p> + +<p>“May you—oh, +well, what’s the use. Betelgeusian custom! Who’s running this world +anyway, the Terrans or the Betelgeusians?”</p> + +<p>Heavily, Agar dropped into a +chair. He was finished. Jean-Jean came to him. Her voice was throaty. +“Oh, Alph....”</p> + +<p>“What did you say?”</p> + +<p>“I mean, oh Alph Agar, what are you going to do?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” said Agar dully. “Never mind. We have work +to do. Let’s get at it.”</p> + +<p>“But....”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, I said.” They worked.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>After a while, Agar said through his teeth, “That Ker Kermit. He got me +into this. Probably he informed on me too, although I don’t know how +he found out. If I weren’t a civilized man....”</p> + +<p>“Alph Agar,” broke in +Jean-Jean in a small voice, “it was I who informed the board that you +were in violation of Article 1382.”</p> + +<p>“You?”</p> + +<p>A tear escaped from under +an eye-lash and trickled down her lovely cheek. “I... I thought he would +fire you and you wouldn’t have to compete. I really didn’t think you +had a chance, even with Lar Lerry teaching you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Agar. “Lar +Lerry. And now this. If by some wild chance I should escape with my +life, I’d lose the Directorship anyway. Jean-Jean, why can’t you mind +your own business?”</p> + +<p>She stiffened. “I was only trying to....”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” +he said morosely. “I know. Take a letter.”</p> + +<p>“Why, oh why,” muttered +Jean-Jean, “did I have to fall in love with a jerk?” There, thought +Agar, was a woman for you. Despite all the trouble he was in now, she +had to talk about her personal affairs. So easily, so lightly, she +changed the subject. Was it Lar Lerry she was talking about? +Severely, he repressed a pang.</p> + +<p>“In love?” he questioned. “Who might you +be in love with, Jean-Jean? And what is a jerk?”</p> + +<p>She glared at him. +“Who, never mind. ‘Jerk’, archaic, twentieth century, ‘damn fool’, +‘jackass’. Let’s have that letter.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The whole thing got out pretty +fast, and the news travelled all over the Unit. Agar found himself +treated with the respect and deference that might be accorded a corpse. +His every order was followed with alacrity. He heard a rumor that the +employees were taking up a collection for a tombstone. Whispers trailed +him as he walked around the plant. “Poor guy ... good Director ... shame +to lose him....” He began to wish for opposition, hostility, even +disrespect, some sign that he was still alive and lusty. He acted high +handed and arrogant at times. “Nerves are shot,” he would overhear.</p> + +<p>Ker +Kermit’s actions became increasingly obnoxious; his ever-present smile +looked more and more like a laugh. He began to assume Agar’s duties. +Agar found that many of his executive directives were superfluous; +Kermit had already taken care of them. His orders were countermanded by +Kermit. Kermit’s signature appeared on papers before he had a chance +to look at them. Kermit began snooping around his private records. +“After all, old fellow,” Kermit would say, “you may as well acquaint me +with things. One never knows what might happen, does one?”</p> + +<p>The worst of +it was that the Unit seemed to be accepting Kermit as the new Director. +Alph Agar felt that he was already dead.</p> + +<p>The day before the exhibition, +Kermit walked into Agar’s office with an interior decorator. “We’ll +move all this stuff out,” he explained to the decorator. “Start from +scratch. I’d like the walls a sort of aquamarine. I think in that +corner we might have a kidney shaped lounge. As to the desks....”</p> + +<p>Agar +rose. About three steps, he thought. Three steps, and he could reach +Kermit and wreck that alert, mocking face. He looked down at the white +knuckles of his clenched fists. Why not? This man had deliberately +planned to ruin and destroy him, although he couldn’t prove that. A +blind, animal rage began rising within him and Kermit’s face seemed +to enlarge and waver.</p> + +<p>Horrified, he let his arms relax. What had he +been thinking? What uncivilized passions were threatening to take +charge? Where were the dignity and mental discipline that a Director +should have?</p> + +<p>“If you gentlemen don’t mind,” +Agar said, “I’m very busy....”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Fifteen Fly-Wheels waited before +the crowded stands, pilots at the controls. In a special, roped off +section sat the Betelgeusian Delegation, Budd-Jarvis officials and +Government representatives. Elsewhere, the Board of Government Raters +checked their instruments and sounded the warning chimes. The beehive +drone of the crowd hushed.</p> + +<p>Alph Agar desperately studied the printed +instruction sheet that had been handed to each contestant.</p> + +<p>The first +instruction read: “At seven point nine miles per hour, roll between +the yellow ground markers. Upset the last two markers by flipping +the rear of your vehicle. Points will be deducted for failing to do +so, or for upsetting any other markers.”</p> + +<p>The signal sounded. The +competition was on.</p> + +<p>Agar headed his Fly-Wheel between the markers. +Nervously, he realized that he had barely an inch of clearance on each +side. He slowed almost to a standstill as he entered the first two +markers, noting that most of the other Fly-Wheels were already gliding +smoothly through the course. Feeling that he was about to stall, he +accelerated.</p> + +<p>His Fly-Wheel shot ahead, knocked over all the markers +except the last two, weaved through the other Fly-Wheels, skimmed the +stands causing the crowds to duck and thudded to earth just in time to +avoid annihilating the Betelgeusian Delegation, leaving the eight-eyed +Betelgeusians blinking all their eyes and chirping hysterically.</p> + +<p>“At +six point eight feet altitude, traverse the field four times at 223 +miles per hour, with Fly-Wheel vertical. Repeat, with Wheel horizontal. +Repeat at twenty-two degree six minute angle in quadrant one, and +two hundred degree angle in quadrant three.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Grimly, but hopelessly Agar essayed the next trial, and stared in +amazement at his altimeter as +he achieved six point eight in one smooth motion. He accelerated to +exactly 223 miles per hour. Four times, he traversed the field, noting +that he finished first.</p> + +<p>Well! Perhaps he was getting the hang of this.</p> + +<p>With a flourish, he set the control for horizontal position, and the +Fly-Wheel went into a sickening spin, at such high velocity that it +was almost invisible to the spectators. Agar blacked out.</p> + +<p>He came to, +to find his Fly-Wheel balanced on the topmost beam of the grand-stand, +while thousands of faces stared up at him.</p> + +<p>His attempt at the quadrant +one test failed utterly.</p> + +<p>His failure in quadrant three was spectacular.</p> + +<p>Grimly and doggedly, he plowed through the next two hours, +aware that as the tests grew more difficult, his showing grew poorer; +aware that the spectators were acquiring the habit of ducking nervously +as he went into each test and that the eight-eyed Betelgeusians were +focusing most of their eyes upon him.</p> + +<p>When he reached the last test, +he knew that it was all up. No use trying anymore. Indifferently, +he manipulated the controls. The Fly-Wheel shuddered and skidded, +dropped to the ground, digging a large crater, jumped into the stands, +causing a hasty exodus, took off and circled the stands at incredible +speed with the sound of a titanic buzz-saw, dove at the Betelgeusian +Delegation, hovering just above the flooring, forcing them to drop and +crawl away, fled across the field in blurry sweeps and finally dug +another crater in which it laid itself gently to rest.</p> + +<p>Dismally, Agar +plodded towards the benches and sat down to wait. Ker Kermit joined +him. “Too bad, old fellow,” he said, smiling. Agar watched the Board of +Raters checking their results. He waited through the endless speeches. +The pit of his stomach felt very empty.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Knowing that hope was futile, +he hoped anyway as Pawl Pastin finally approached, but when he saw +the look in Pastin’s eyes, he straightened. “All right,” he said, +his voice firm. Must maintain the dignity of a Director to the last. +“I’ll go. Just don’t touch me.”</p> + +<p>The axe-man was waiting, nervously +swinging the polished axe. Incongruously, Agar felt sorry for him; +the man had never done this before, he knew. He knelt, feeling the +wooden block hard against his forehead. He closed his eyes, waiting +in darkness for the blow, thinking now only of Jean-Jean, regretting +that she would never know how much he cared.</p> + +<p>There was a stir in the +stands, and the blow did not come. Agar opened his eyes and saw that +the axe-man had lowered his axe, and officials were rushing towards +him. They led him before the roped off section of the stands, where +the Betelgeusians were chirping excitedly and waving their ropy limbs.</p> + +<p>Pawl Pastin appeared. “The Betelgeusians seem to disagree with the +Government Raters,” he informed Agar.</p> + +<p>The Betelgeusians fell silent and +the official interpreter began to speak. “The Betelgeusians say,” he +explained in the loud tones of an announcer, “that they are shocked +at our decision. They consider Alph Agar’s performance the most +remarkable and daring of the day. They consider him the winner, not the +loser. They say that they cannot understand our method of rating and +that it is their own custom to value highly +the type of courage, audacity and imagination that Alph Agar has shown +here to-day. They demand his release.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>An annoyed look appeared on +Pawl Pastin’s face. “Highly irregular,” he said. “That would be against +the rules. The rules have already been laid down, and we must abide +by them. We cannot make last minute changes. Tell the Betelgeusians +that Alph Agar must be executed.”</p> + +<p>“Just a moment,” interrupted a +Government representative. “That would be defeating our purpose; both +the Government and Budd-Jarvis want to please the Betelgeusians. I +recommend that we go along with them.”</p> + +<p>“I fully understand that!” +snapped Pawl Pastin. “And personally, I would prefer to free Alph Agar. +Rules, however, take precedence over all other considerations. I have +no authority to violate the rules.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the Government +man. “As Minister of Diplomacy, Sector Thirty-Six, empowered to +represent the Government, I proclaim that Government sanction to this +execution is withdrawn. You are directed to free Alph Agar.”</p> + +<p>“You are +overlooking something. Your directive is in violation until confirmed +by the Minister of Interior Policy, Sector Thirty-Seven, ratified +by the Board of Industrial Relations, and recorded by the Office of +Diplomatic Records. The execution must proceed!”</p> + +<p>A fierce rebellion +took hold of Agar. He had been resigned before, but now! ... to be so +close to life again and cheated by red tape! He opened his mouth.</p> + +<p>A +clear, feminine voice rang out from the edge of the knot of officials. +It was Jean-Jean’s. “As secretary and representative of Director Alph +Agar, I have something to say! This situation is ridiculous. Since it +is the Prime Executive Board that makes the rules, and all the members +are present at this exhibition, why don’t you simply call a meeting +now, and reconsider the rules?”</p> + +<p>Pawl Pastin looked startled. “Why yes,” +he said. “I hadn’t thought of that. We can call an emergency meeting.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The vote was immediately taken. “Because of a unanimous desire to +satisfy the Betelgeusians,” Pawl Pastin announced when the results +were in, “the Board orders the release of Director Alph Agar.”</p> + +<p>Alph +Agar felt soft, yielding curves hit him with a sweet pressure. Coppery +hair was silky on his cheek and arms were around his neck. “Oh, Alph, +Alph,” Jean-Jean was whispering in his ear.</p> + +<p>“Alph,” said Agar indistinctly. “You’re calling me Alph.” She drew back and looked at +him with moist eyes. “Because I love you, you jerk. Since you won’t +tell me, I’ll have to tell you. Do you love me?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Jean,” said Alph. “Jean.”</p> + +<p>The interpreter’s loud voice rapped out, “The Betelgeusians say +that they are waiting to witness the execution!”</p> + +<p>Heads jerked up. “What +execution?” crackled Pastin.</p> + +<p>“The execution of the loser. They say that +now that Alph Agar has been released, a loser must be chosen.”</p> + +<p>Pastin +frowned. It was clear that he was losing his patience. “Tell them,” he +said “that the Board of Government Raters has already turned in their +tally. Agar was considered the loser. No alternative was provided. Ask +them whom they believe to be the loser.”</p> + +<p>A chorus of chirping broke out +among the Betelgeusians.</p> + +<p>“They regard Assistant Director Ker Kermit +as the loser. They consider his performance dull and routine. They +found no imagination in it, only precision.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Pastin +grimly. “We’ll take a vote on it.”</p> + +<p>The Board was in conference longer +this time, but finally Pastin announced: “Again we will yield to their +wishes. Tell them that Ker Kermit shall be executed at once. Guards, +lead him away!”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Kermit’s face had turned sick. His confidence and +drive had been shocked out of him. Spiritlessly, he allowed himself +to be led toward the axe-man.</p> + +<p>Getting what he deserved, thought Agar, +but he felt no elation. Neither was he sorry for Kermit. There was +something else.... Anger. Something had been bothering him about this +whole thing for a long time, and now a terrible rage was beginning +to gather within him. At what? He wasn’t sure exactly, but something +was rotten here.</p> + +<p>He started forward. He knew.</p> + +<p>Mental discipline. He checked himself. Discipline. Dignity. Restraint. +It was not fitting +to give way to uncivilized emotion.</p> + +<p>Hell! he thought with a final +irritation. Oh, the hell with discipline and the hell with dignity!</p> + +<p>He planted himself squarely before the Betelgeusian Delegation, hands +on hips. “Tell them,” he roared at the interpreter in a voice that he +was unfamiliar with, “that we are a proud and peaceful people. Tell +them that now, because they have been bending us to their will, we +are about to deny our own hearts and do something shameful ... the +taking of human life for hope of gain. Tell +them that up to now we have been weak!” He raised his clenched fist +and shook it at them. “And tell them this!” he shouted. “There will +be no execution, and if they insist upon it, I will personally come +up there and pound some respect into them, one at a time, or all at +once!”</p> + +<p>Tumult. Mad chirping. Pawl Pastin’s white face stared at Agar. +“What have you done, man?”</p> + +<p>The interpreter’s voice rose again: “The +Betelgeusians say,” he announced, “that once again they are impressed +by the reckless audacity of Alph Agar. They say that they cannot resist +arguments presented with such courage. They say that they admire a +people that can produce a man like Alph Agar, that they will not +insist upon the execution, and that they are ready to do business with +both Budd-Jarvis and the Government.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Alph Agar sat in his office, +holding Jean-Jean in his lap. He kissed her again.</p> + +<p>There was a discreet +tap at the door. After Jean-Jean straightened herself out, Agar called, +“Come in.”</p> + +<p> Ker Kermit entered. “Pawl Pastin to see you,” he announced +respectfully. “Will you see him now, boss?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly.” Kermit left +and Pastin entered and took a chair. His voice and manner were as dry +as ever. “First, allow me to convey the gratitude of both Budd-Jarvis +and the Government for your part in the Betelgeusian affair. Without +the necessity of an execution, we’ve gained our ends, thanks to you. +You will receive official recognition of this, very soon.”</p> + +<p>“Why,” said +Agar, “that’s fine.”</p> + +<p>“However,” continued Pastin, “the main purpose +of this visit is to discharge you from the Directorship.”</p> + +<p>“What!”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Pastin spread his hands. “But naturally. Rules are rules, you know. You +are still in violation of Article 1382. I informed you that you would +have to lose the Directorship after the exhibition.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see about +that!” But it was without much hope that he put the call through to +Unit C4439 and gave the data.</p> + +<p>“Point,” smiled Unit C4439. “Since you +were allowed to compete in the exhibition, it must be considered that +Government sanction to operate a Fly-Wheel existed. Point: Government +sanction under such circumstances is by License Division Article +14986.39 equivalent to a permanent license of rating .90-L Wullen. +End of points. Further data, please?”</p> + +<p>“No further data.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” +smiled Unit C4439. “I am disconnecting. May you dwell in happiness.”</p> + +<p>“I +was wrong,” admitted Pastin, rising to go. “By the rules, you +retain your Directorship.” At the door he turned and permitted himself +a microscopic smile. “However, I am not quite so obtuse as you may +think me. May you dwell in happiness.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"></div><div class="transnote"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Note"> + Transcriber’s Note: + </h2> + +<blockquote> +<p>This etext was produced from Future Science Fiction, February 1958 +(#35). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed.</p> + +<p>Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version.</p> + +<p>The illustration has been moved to better fit the story.</p> +</blockquote> +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79008 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/79008-h/images/007.jpg b/79008-h/images/007.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1bfe795 --- /dev/null +++ b/79008-h/images/007.jpg diff --git a/79008-h/images/cover.jpg b/79008-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c3f35e --- /dev/null +++ b/79008-h/images/cover.jpg |
