The Simulacra

13

‘I certainly would like to leave the White House,' Richard Kongrosian said peevishly to the NP men guarding him. He felt irritable and also apprehensive; he stood as far from Commissioner Pembroke as possible. It was Pembroke, he knew, who was in charge.

Wilder Pembroke said, ‘Mr Judd, the A.G. Chemie psychchemist, will be here any minute. So please be patient, Mr Kongrosian.' His voice was calm but not soothing; it had a hard edge which made Kongrosian even more unstrung.

‘This is intolerable,' Kongrosian said. ‘You guarding me like this, watching everything I do. I simply can't tolerate being watched: I have paranoia sensitiva; don't you realize that?'

There was a knock at the door of the room. ‘Mr Judd to see Mr Kongrosian,' a White House attendant called in Pembroke opened the door of the room, admitting Merrill Judd, who entered briskly, official briefcase in hand. Mr Kongrosian. Glad to meet you face to face, at last.'

‘Hello, Judd,' Kongrosian murmured, feeling sullen about everything which was going on around him.

‘I have here with me some new, experimental medication for you,' Judd informed him, opening the briefcase and reaching within. ‘The imipramine hcl -- twice a day, 50 mg each. That's the orange tablet. The brown tablet is our new methabyretinate oxide, 100 mg per -- ‘

‘Poison,' Kongrosian broke in.

‘Pardon?' Alertly, Judd cupped his ear.

‘I won't take it; this is part of a carefully laid plot to kill me.' There was no doubt of it in Kongrosian's mind. He had realized it as soon as Judd had arrived with the official A.G. Chemie briefcase.

‘Not at all,' Judd said, glancing sharply at Pembroke. ‘I assure you. We're trying to help you. It's our job to help you, sir.'

‘Is that why you kidnapped me?' Kongrosian said.

‘I did not kidnap you,' Judd said cautiously. ‘Now as to -- ‘

‘You're all working together,' Kongrosian said. And he had an answer for it; he had been preparing for the exact moment when the time was right. Summoning his psychokinetic talent he lifted both his arms and directed the power of his attention towards the psych-chemist Merrill Judd.

The psych-chemist rose from the floor, dangled in air; still clutching his official A.G. Chemie briefcase, he gaped at Kongrosian and Pembroke. Eyes protruding, he tried to speak, and then Kongrosian whisked him at the closed door of the room. The door, wooden and hollow-core splintered as Judd swept against it and through it; he disappeared from Kongrosian's sight then. Only Pembroke and his NP men remained in the room with him.

Clearing his throat, Wilder Pembroke said huskily, ‘Perhaps -- we should see how badly he's hurt.' As he started towards the ruined door he added, over his shoulder, ‘I would think that A.G. Chemie will be somewhat upset by this. To put it mildly.'

‘The hell with A.G. Chemie,' Kongrosian said. ‘I want my own doctor; I don't trust anybody you bring in here. How do I know he was actually even from A.G. Chemie? He was probably an impostor.'

‘In any case,' Pembroke said, ‘you hardly have to worry about him, now.' Gingerly, he opened the remains of the wooden door.

‘Was he truly from A.G. Chemie?' Kongrosian asked, following him out into the corridor.

‘You talked to him on the phone yourself; it was you who called him into this initially.' Pembroke seemed angry and agitated, now, as he searched the corridor for a sign of Judd. ‘Where is he?' he demanded. ‘What in the name of God did you do with him, Kongrosian?'

Kongrosian said, with reluctance, ‘I moved him downstairs to the subsurface laundry room. He's all right.'

‘Do you know what the von Lessinger principle is?' Pembroke asked him, eyeing him tensely.

‘Of course.'

Pembroke said, ‘As a member of the higher NP, I have access to von Lessinger equipment. Would you like to know whom you'll next mistreat by means of your psychokinetic ability?'

‘No,' Kongrosian said.

‘Knowing would be to your advantage. Because you might want to stop yourself; it will be a manoeuvre you'll regret.'

‘Who's the person?' Kongrosian asked, then.

‘Nicole,' Pembroke said. ‘You can tell me something if you want. Under what operating theory have you refrained, up until now, from using your talent politically?'

‘ "Politically"?' Kongrosian echoed. He did not see how he had used it politically.

‘Politics,' Pembroke said, ‘if I may remind you, is the art of getting other people to do what you want them to, by force if necessary. Your application of psychokinesis just now was rather unusual in its directness ... but nevertheless it was a political act.'

Kongrosian said, ‘I always felt it was wrong to use it on people.'

‘But now -- ‘

‘Now,' Kongrosian said, ‘the situation is different. I'm a captive; everyone's against me. You're against me, for instance. I may have to use it against you.'

‘Please don't,' Pembroke said. He smiled tightly. ‘I'm merely a salaried employee of a government agency, doing my job.'

‘You're a lot more than that,' Kongrosian said. ‘I'd be interested in knowing how I'm going to use my talent against Nicole.' He could not imagine himself doing that; he was too awed by her. Too reverent.

Pembroke said, ‘Why don't we wait and see.'

‘It strikes me as strange,' Kongrosian said, ‘that you'd go to the trouble of using von Lessinger equipment merely to find out about me. After all, I'm utterly worthless, an outcast from humanity. A freak that should never have been born.'

‘That's your illness talking,' Pembroke said. ‘When you say that. And down inside your mind somewhere you know that.'

‘But you must admit,' Kongrosian persisted, ‘that it's unusual for someone to use the von Lessinger machinery as you evidently have. What's your reason?' Your real reason, he thought to himself.

‘My task is to protect Nicole. Obviously, since you will soon be making an overt move in her direction -- ‘

‘I think you're lying about that,' Kongrosian interrupted. ‘I could never do anything like that. Not to Nicole.'

Wilder Pembroke raised an eyebrow. And then he turned and rang the elevator button to begin his trip downstairs to search for the psych-chemist from A.G. Chemie.

‘What are you up to?' Kongrosian asked. He was highly suspicious of the NP men anyhow, always had been and always would be, and particularly so ever since the NP had shown up at the jalopy jungle and seized him. And this man impelled an even greater suspicion and hostility in him, although he did not understand quite why.

‘I'm just doing my job,' Pembroke repeated.

And still, for reasons he did not consciously know, Kongrosian did not believe him.

‘How do you now expect to get well?' Pembroke asked him as the elevator doors opened. ‘Since you've destroyed the A.G. Chemie man -- ‘ He entered the elevator, beckoning Kongrosian to join him.

‘My own doctor. Egon Superb; he can still cure me.'

‘Do you want to see him? It can be arranged.'

‘Yes!' Kongrosian said eagerly. ‘As soon as possible. He's the only one in the universe who isn't against me.'

‘I could take you there myself,' Pembroke said, a thoughtful expression on his flat, hard face. ‘

If I thought it was a good idea ... and I'm not very certain of that, at this point.'

‘If you don't take me,' Kongrosian said, ‘I'll pick you up with my talent and set you down in the Potomac.'

Pembroke shrugged. ‘Doubtless you could. But according to the von Lessinger equipment, you probably won't. I'll take the chance.'

‘I don't think the von Lessinger principle can deal properly with us Psis,' Kongrosian said irritably as he also entered the elevator. ‘At least, I've heard that said. We act as acausal factors.' This was a difficult man to deal with, a strong man whom he actively did not like. Like -- or trust.

Maybe it's just the police mentality, he conjectured as the two of them descended.

Or maybe it's more.

Nicole, he thought. You know darn well I could never do anything to you; it's utterly out of the question -- my entire world would collapse. It would be like injuring my own mother or sister, someone sacred.

I've got to keep my talent in check, he realized. Please, dear Lord, help me keep my psychokinetic ability in check whenever I'm around Nicole. Okay? As the elevator descended he waited, fervently, for an answer.

‘By the way,' Pembroke broke into his thoughts suddenly. ‘About your smell. It seems to be gone.'

‘Gone!' And then the implication of the NP man's remark struck him. ‘You mean you could detect my phobic body odour? But that's impossible! It can't actually be -- ‘ He ceased talking, confused. ‘And you say now it's gone.' He did not understand.

Pembroke eyed him. ‘I would certainly have noticed it here, cooped up with you in this elevator. Of course, it may come back. I'll be glad to let you know if it does.'

‘Thank you,' Kongrosian said. And thought, Somehow this man is getting the upper hand over me. Constantly. He's a master psychologist ... or is it that, by his definition, he's a master political strategist?

‘Cigarette?' Pembroke extended his pack.

Horrified, Kongrosian leaped back. ‘No. They're illegal too dangerous. I wouldn't dare smoke one.'

‘Always danger,' Pembroke said, as he lit up. ‘Right? A constantly dangerous world. You must be ceaselessly careful. What you need, Kongrosian, is a bodyguard. A squad of hand-picked, rigorously-trained NP men, with you at all times.' He added, ‘Otherwise -- ‘

‘Otherwise you don't think I have much of a chance.'

Pembroke nodded. ‘Very little, Kongrosian. And I say this on the basis of my use of the von Lessinger apparatus.'

From then on the two of them descended in silence.

The elevator stopped. The doors slid back. They were in the subsurface level of the White House. Kongrosian and Pembroke stepped out into the hall. A man, whom both of them recognized, stood waiting for them. ‘I want you to listen, Kongrosian,' Bertold Goltz said to the pianist.

Swiftly, in a fraction of a second, the NP Commissioner had his pistol out. He aimed at Goltz and fired.

But Goltz had already vanished.

A piece of folded paper lay on the floor where he had stood. Goltz had dropped it. Stooping, Kongrosian reached for it.

‘Don't touch that!' Pembroke said sharply.

It was too late. Kongrosian had it, was unfolding it. It read: Pembroke leads you to your death.

‘Interesting,' Kongrosian said. He passed the slip of paper to the NP man; Pembroke put his pistol away and accepted it, scrutinizing it, his face distorted with outrage.

From behind them, Goltz said, ‘Pembroke has waited months for you to be taken into custody, here at the White House. Now there isn't any time left.'

Spinning, Pembroke snatched at his pistol, brought it out and fired. Again Goltz, grinning with scornful bitterness, disappeared. You'll never get him, Kongrosian realized. Not as long as he has the von Lessinger equipment at his disposal.

Time left for what? he wondered. What's going to happen? Goltz seemed to know and probably Pembroke knows, too; they have identical equipment available to them.

And, he thought, how does it involve me? Me -- and my talent, which I've sworn to keep in check.

Does this mean I'm going to use it? He had no intuition that this was precisely what it meant.

And there was probably little he could do about it.

From outside the house Nat Flieger heard children playing.

They chanted some sort of dirge-like rhythm, unfamiliar to him. And he had been in the music business all his life. No matter how hard he tried he could not make out the words; they were strangely blurred, run-together.

‘Mind if I look?' he asked Beth Kongrosian, rising to his feet from the creaky wicker chair.

Turning pale, Beth Kongrosian said, ‘I -- would rather you didn't. Please don't look at the children. Please!'

Nat said gently, ‘We're a recording company, Mrs Kongrosian. Anything and everything in the way of music is our business.' He absolutely could not refrain from going to the window to look; the instinct, right or wrong, was in his blood -- it came before civility or kindness, before all else. Peering out, he saw them, seated in a circle. And they were all chuppers. He wondered which was Plautus Kongrosian. They all looked so much alike to him. Perhaps the little boy in yellow shorts and T-shirt off to the side. Nat motioned to Molly and Jim; they joined him at the window.

Five Neanderthal children, Nat thought. Plucked out of time; a sequence from the past snipped out and pasted here in this day and age, in the present, for us of EME to overhear, to record. I wonder what sort of an album cover our art department will want to put on this. He shut his eyes, no longer wishing to face the scene outside the window.

But we will go ahead, he knew. Because we came here to get something; we can't -- or at least we don't want to -- go back with nothing at all. And this is important.

This has to be dealt with, professionally. Perhaps it's more important even than Richard Kongrosian, good as he is. And we can't afford the luxury of paying attention to our delicate sensibilities.

‘Jim,' he said presently. ‘Get out the Ampek F-a2. Right away. Before they stop.'

Beth Kongrosian said, ‘I won't let you record them.'

‘We will,' Nat said to her. ‘We're used to this, in folk music sessions done on the spot. It's been tested in USEA courts many times and the recording firm has always won.'

He followed after Jim Planck, in order to help assemble their recording gear.

‘Mr Flieger, do you understand what they are?' Mrs Kongrosian called after him.

‘Yes,' he said. And continued on.

Presently they had the Ampek F-a2 set up; the organism pulsed sleepily, undulating its pseudopodia as if hungry. The moist weather seemed to have affected it little; it was, if anything, torpid.

Appearing beside them, composed, her face rigid with determination, Beth Kongrosian said in a low voice, ‘Listen to me, please. At night, in fact tonight in particular, there's going to be a gathering of them. The adults. At their hall, back in the woods very near here, on the red-rock side road they all use; it belongs to them, their organization. There will be a great deal of dancing and singing. What you want exactly. Much more than what you'll find here with these little children. So please; wait and record that instead.'

Nat said, ‘We'll get both.' And signalled Jim to carry the Ampek F-a2 towards the circle of children.

‘I'll put you up for the night, here in the house,' Beth Kongrosian said, hurrying after him. ‘Very late, around two in the morning, they sing wonderfully -- it's hard to understand the words but -- ‘ She caught hold of his arm. ‘Richard and I have been trying to train our child away from this. The children, as young as they are, don't really participate; you won't get the real thing from them. When you see the adults -- ‘ She broke off and then finished drably, ‘Then you'll see what I mean.'

Molly said to Nat, ‘Let's wait.'

Hesitating, Nat turned to Jim Planck. Jim nodded.

‘Okay,' Nat said to Mrs Kongrosian. ‘If you'll take us to their hall, where they meet. And see that we get in.'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I will. Thank you, Mr Flieger.'

I feel guilty, Nat said to himself. But he said aloud, ‘Okay. And you -- ‘ His guilt overcame him, then. ‘Heck, you don't have to put us up. We'll stay in Jenner.'

‘I'd like to,' Beth Kongrosian said. ‘I'm terribly lonely; I need the company, when Richard's away. You don't know what it means to have people from -- the outside come in here for a little while.'

The children, noticing the adults, broke off suddenly, shyly; they peeped at Nat and Molly and Jim wide-eyed. It would probably not have been possible to get them down anyhow, Nat realized. So he had lost nothing by his deal.

‘Does this frighten you?' Beth Kongrosian asked him.

He shrugged. ‘No. Not really.'

‘The government knows about it,' she said. ‘There have been many ethnologists and god knows what else sent out here to investigate. They all say it proves one thing; in prehistoric times, during the epoch before Cro-Magnon Man appeared -- ‘ She ceased, helplessly.

‘They interbred,' Nat finished for her. ‘Like the skeletons found in the caves in Israel indicated.'

‘Yes.' She nodded. ‘Possibly all the so-called sub-races. The races that didn't survive. They were absorbed by Homo Sapiens.'

‘I'd make a different guess,' Nat said. ‘It would seem more to me that the the so-called sub-races were mutations which existed for a short while and then dwindled away because they couldn't adapt as well. Perhaps there were radiation problems in those days.'

‘I don't agree,' Beth Kongrosian said. ‘And work they've done with the von Lessinger equipment tends to back me up. By your theory they would just be -- sports. But I believe they're true races ... I think they evolved separately from the original primate, from Proconsul. And at last came together, when Homo Sapiens migrated into their hunting lands.'

Molly said, ‘Could I get another cup of coffee? I'm cold.'

She shivered. ‘This damp air gets me down.'

‘We'll go back into the house,' Beth Kongrosian agreed.

‘Yes, you're not accustomed to the weather up here; I understand. I remember how it was when we first moved here.'

‘Plautus was not born here,' Nat said.

‘No.' She nodded. ‘We came here because of him.'

‘Wouldn't the government have taken him?' Nat asked.

‘They maintain special schools for radiation survivors.' He avoided using the exact term; it would have been radiation sports.

‘We thought he would be happier here,' Beth Kongrosian said. ‘Most of them -- the chuppers, as they speak of themselves -- are here. They've come from every part of the world, during the last two decades.'

The four of them re-entered the warm, dry house.

‘He's actually a lovely-looking little boy,' Molly said.

‘Very sweet and sensitive-looking, despite -- ‘ She faltered.

‘The jaw and the shambling gait,' Mrs Kongrosian said matter of factly, ‘haven't fully formed. That begins in about the thirteenth year.' In the kitchen she began to heat water for their coffee.

Strange, what we're going to bring back from this trip, Nat Flieger thought to himself. So different from what we and Leo expected.

He thought, I wonder how it'll sell.

Amanda Conner's sweet, pure voice came from the intercom, startling Dr Egon Superb as he sat examining his schedule of tomorrow's appointments. ‘Someone to see you, doctor. A Mr Wilder Pembroke.'

Wilder Pembroke! Dr Superb sat up rigidly, and laid aside his appointment book reflexively. What did the NP official want this tune? He felt immediate, instinctive wariness and he said into the intercom, ‘Just a minute, please.'

Has he finally come to shut me down? he wondered. Then I must have seen that one, particular patient without realizing it.

The one I exist to serve; or rather, not to serve. The man I'm here to fail with.

Sweat stood out on his forehead as he thought, So now my career, like that of every other psychoanalyst in the USEA, ends. What'll I do now? Some of his colleagues had fled to Communist countries, but surely they were no better off there. Several had emigrated to Luna and Mars. And a few a surprisingly large ‘few' -- had applied for work with A.G. Chemie, the organization responsible in the first place for the stricture against them.

He was too young to retire and too old to learn another profession. Bitterly, he thought, so actually I can do nothing. I can't go on and I can't quit; it's a true doublebind, the sort of thing my patients are always getting themselves into. Now he could feel more compassion for them and the messes which they had made of their lives.

To Amanda he said, ‘Send Commissioner Pembroke in.'

The hard-eyed but quiet-spoken NP man, in ordinary street clothes as before, slowly entered the office and seated himself facing Dr Superb.

‘That's quite a girl you have out there,' Pembroke said, and licked his lips. ‘I wonder what will become of her. Possibly we -- ‘

‘What do you want?' Superb said.

‘An answer. To a question.' Pembroke leaned back, got out a gold cigarette case, an antique from the previous century, lit up with his lighter, also an antique. Blowing smoke he made himself comfortable, crossing his legs. And said, ‘Your patient, Richard Kongrosian, has discovered that he can fight back.'

‘Against whom?'

‘His oppressors. Us, of course. Anyone else who comes along, for that matter. Here's what I would like to know. I want to work with Richard Kongrosian but I have to protect myself from him. Frankly, I'm afraid of him, at this point, more afraid of him, doctor, than of anyone else in the world. And I know why -- I've used von Lessinger's equipment and I know exactly what I'm talking about. What's the key to his mind? How can I arrange for Kongrosian to be -- ‘ Pembroke groped for the word; gesturing, he said, ‘Reliable. You understand. Obviously, I don't want to be picked up and set down six feet underground some morning when we have a minor tiff.' His face was pale and he was sitting with brittle stiffness.

After a pause Dr Superb said, ‘Now that I know who the patient is that I'm waiting for. You lied about the failing. I'm not supposed to fail. In fact I'm needed vitally. And the patient is quite sane.'

Pembroke regarded him intently but said nothing.

‘You're the patient. And you were totally aware of it, all along. Through you I've been misled. From the beginning.'

After a time Pembroke nodded.

‘And this is not government business,' Superb said. ‘This is an arrangement of your own. It has nothing to do with Nicole.' At least not directly, he thought.

‘Be careful.' Pembroke said. He got out his service pistol and held it loosely in his lap, but with his hand close to it.

‘I can't tell you how to control Kongrosian. I can't control him myself; you've seen that.'

‘But you would know,' Pembroke said, ‘assuming anyone would, if I can work with him; you know that much about him.' He stared at Superb, his eyes clear and unwinking. Waiting.

‘You'd have to tell me what you intend to propose to him.'

Pembroke, picking up his gun and holding it pointed directly at Dr Superb, said, ‘Tell me how he feels about Nicole.'

‘She's a Magna Mater figure to him. As she is to all of us.'

‘ "Magna Mater." ‘ Pembroke leaned forward intently.

‘What's that?'

‘The great primordial mother.'

‘So in other words he idolizes her. She's like a goddess to him, not mortal. How would he react -- ‘ Pembroke hesitated. ‘Suppose Kongrosian suddenly became a Ge, a real one, possessing one of the most carefully-guarded government secrets. That Nicole died years ago, that this so-called "Nicole" is an actress. A girl named Kate Rupert.'

Superb's ears buzzed. He studied Pembroke, and knew one thing, knew it for the absolute reality it was. When this interchange was over, Pembroke would kill him.

‘Because,' Pembroke said, ‘that's the truth.' He shoved his gun back into its holster, then, Would he lose his awe of her, then? Would he be able to -- co-operate?'

After a time Superb said, ‘Yes. He would. Definitely so.'

Visibly, Pembroke relaxed. He ceased to tremble and some colour returned to his thin, flat face. ‘Good. And I hope you're disbursing the truth, doctor, because if you aren't I'll make my way back here, no matter what happens, and destroy you.' All at once he rose to his feet. ‘Goodbye.'

Superb said, ‘Am I now out of business?'

‘Of course. Why not?' Pembroke smiled composedly.

‘What good are you to anybody? You know that doctor. Your hour has passed. An amusing pun, in that you -- ‘

‘Suppose I tell you what you just now told me.'

‘Oh, please do. It'll make my job much easier. You see, doctor, I intend to make public that particular Geheimis to the Bes. And, simultaneously, Karp und Sohnen Werke will reveal the other.'

‘What other?'

‘You'll have to wait,' Pembroke said. ‘Until Anton and Felix Karp feel themselves ready.' He opened the office door. ‘I'll see you again soon, doctor. Thanks for the assistance.' The door closed behind him.

I have learned, Dr Superb realized, the ultimate secret of the state. I am now at the top rung of Ge society.

And it doesn't matter. Because there is no way I can use this information as an instrument by which to retain my career. And that is all that counts. As far as I'm concerned.

My career and nothing else. God damn it, nothing!

He felt overwhelming, vicious, raw hatred for Pembroke.

If I could kill him, Superb realized, I would. Right now. Follow after him. ‘Doctor,' Amanda's voice sounded from the intercom.

‘Mr Pembroke says that we must close up.' Her voice wavered. ‘Is that true? I thought they were going to let you go on for a while.'

‘He's right,' Superb admitted. ‘It's all over. You better phone my patients, everyone I have an appointment with, and tell them the story.'

‘Yes, doctor.' Tearfully, Amanda rang off.

Damn him, Superb said to himself. And there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing at all.

The intercom came on once again as Amanda said hesitantly, ‘And he also said something else. I wasn't going to say -- but it was about me. I knew it'd make you angry.'

‘What did he say?'

‘He said -- maybe he could use me. He didn't say how but whatever it is I felt -- ‘ She was silent a moment. ‘I felt sick,' she finished. ‘In a way I never did before. No matter who was looking at me or talking to me. No matter what anybody said. This -- was different.'

Rising Superb walked to the office door, opened it. Pembroke had left, of course; he saw only Amanda Conners in the outer office, at her desk, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Superb walked to the front door of the building, opened it and descended the stairs.

He unlocked the trunk of his parked wheel, got out the jack handle. With it, he started down the sidewalk. The shaft of steel felt slippery and cold within his grip as he searched for Commissioner Pembroke.

Far off he saw a shrunken figure. Altered perspective, Dr Superb realized. Makes him look little. But he's not. Dr Superb walked towards the NP man, holding the jack handle up. The figure of Pembroke grew.

Pembroke was paying no attention to him; he did not see Superb coming. Immobile, with a group of other persons, passers-by, Pembroke was gazing fixedly at the headlines displayed by a peripatetic news machine.

The headlines were huge and ominous and black. As he approached, Dr Superb saw them, made out the words. He slowed, lowered the jack handle, until at last he stood like the others.

‘Karp discloses vast government secret!' the news machine screeched to everyone within hearing distance. ‘Der Alte a simulacrum! New one already being built!'

The news machine began to wheel off in search of other customers. No one was buying here. Everyone had become frozen. It was dream-like to Dr Superb; he shut his eyes, thinking to himself, I have difficulty believing this. Terrible difficulty.

‘Karp employee steals entire plans for next der Alte simulacrum!' the news machine, now half a block away, shrilled.

The sound of it echoed. ‘Makes plans public!'

All these years, Dr Superb thought. We've worshipped a dummy. A being inert and devoid of life.

Opening his eyes, he saw Wilder Pembroke, bent grotesquely as he strained to hear the departing racket of the news machine; Pembroke took a few steps after it, as if hypnotized by it.

Pembroke, as he departed, dwindled as before. I've got to go after him, Dr Superb realized. Make him full-sized, real again so I can do to him what I have to. The jack handle became more slippery, so drenched that he could hardly hold on to it.

‘Pembroke!' he called.

The figure halted, bleakly smiling. ‘So now you know both of them. You're uniquely informed, Superb.' Pembroke walked back up the sidewalk towards him. ‘I have some advice. I suggest that you call a reporting machine and give it your news, too. Are you afraid to?'

Superb managed to say, ‘It's -- too much, all at once. I have to think.' Confused, he listened to the yammer of the news machine; it's voice was still audible.

‘But you will tell,' Pembroke said. ‘Eventually.' Still smiling, he brought out his service pistol and aimed it, expertly, at Superb's temple. ‘I order you to, doctor.' He walked slowly along the sidewalk, up to Dr Superb. ‘There's no time left, now, because Karp und Sohnen has made its move. This is the moment, doctor, the Augenblick -- as our German friends say. Don't you agree?'

‘I'll -- call a reporting machine,' Superb said.

‘Don't give your source, doctor. I'll come back inside with you, I think.' Pembroke urged Dr Superb back up the steps of the building, to the front door of his office. ‘Just say that one of your patients, a Ge, revealed it to you in confidence, but you feel it's too important to be kept quiet.'

‘All right,' Superb said, Nodding.

‘And don't worry about the psychological effect on the nation,' Pembroke said. ‘On the masses of Bes. I think they'll be able to withstand it, once the initial shock has worn off. There will be a reaction, of course; I expect it to demolish the system of government. Wouldn't you agree? By that I mean there will be no further der Altes and no more so-called "Nicole," and no more division into Ge and Be. Because we'll all be Ges, now. Correct?'

‘Yes,' Superb said, as step by step he walked through the outer office, past Amanda Conners who stared speechlessly at him and Pembroke.

Half to himself Pembroke murmured, ‘All I'm worried about is Bertold Goltz's reaction. Everything else seems to be in order but that's the one factor I can't quite seem to anticipate.'

Superb halted, turned to Amanda. ‘Get The New York Times reporting machine for me on the phone, please.'

Picking up the phone, Amanda numbly dialled.

Ashen-faced, Maury Frauenzimmer swallowed noisily, put down the newspaper and mumbled to Chic, ‘Do you know which of us leaked the news?' His flesh hung in wattles, as if death were creeping over him.

‘I -- ‘

‘It was your brother Vince. Whom you just brought in here from Karp. Well, this is the end of us. Vince was acting for Karp; they never fired him -- they sent him.' Maury crumpled up the newspaper with both hands. ‘God, if only you'd emigrated. If you'd gone he never would have managed to get in here; I wouldn't have hired him without your say-so.' He raised his panic-filled eyes and stared at Chic.

‘Why didn't I let you go?'

Outside the Frauenzimmer Associates factory building a news machine shrilled,' ... vast government secret! Der Alte a simulacrum! New one already being built!' It began all over again, then, mechanically controlled by its central circuits.

‘Destroy it,' Maury croaked at Chic. ‘That -- machine out there. Make it leave, in the name of god.'

Chic said thickly, ‘It won't go. I tried. When I first heard it.' The two of them faced each other, he and his boss Maury Frauenzimmer, neither of them able to speak. Anyhow, there was nothing to say. It was the end of their business. And perhaps of their lives.

At last Maury said, ‘Those Loony Luke lots. Those jalopy jungles. The government closed all of them down, didn't it?'

Chic said, ‘Why?'

‘Because I want to emigrate,' Maury said. ‘I have to get out of here. So do you.'

‘They're closed,' Chic agreed, nodding.

‘You know what we're seeing?' Maury said. ‘This is a coup. A plot against the government of the USEA, by someone or a lot of someones. And they're people inside the apparatus, not outsiders like Goltz. And they're working with the cartels, with Karp, the biggest of them all. They've got a lot of power. This is no street fight. No vulgar brawl.'

He mopped his red, perspiration-soaked face with his handkerchief. ‘I feel ill. Goddamit, we've been brought into it, you and me; the NP boys will be here any minute.'

‘But they must know we didn't intend -- ‘

‘They know nothing. They'll be arresting everybody. Up and down.'

Far off a siren sounded. Maury, wide-eyed, listened.