"BODGER!... _Bodger!_"...
A hand was shaking his shoulder roughly, the elder Bodger realized with
annoyance. His eyes focused on the face of Fredric Stanton. Bodger
shrugged the hand away, and sat up groggily.
"As I always suspected," he said, brushing at the crusted salt on his
chest, "the Hive can't run an hour without me at the helm." He got to
his feet and stretched.
Stanton, frowning at his sarcasm, let it pass without comment; he had a
more important topic to discuss. "The tally of last evening's Vote just
came in to my office," he said tightly. "It was a near-complete poll,
only a few thousand missing."
Bodger, still trying to get his mind readjusted to the idea of being
wide awake again, started toward the bathroom and a warm shower,
muttering, "Hooray for progress. Is that any reason to waken a man--"
"_Bodger--!_"
He stopped at the open door to the bathroom and turned his head toward
the President. "All right, out with it." Without knowing how, exactly,
Bodger knew it was about Lloyd again. And worse than before.
Stanton reached inside his suitjacket and withdrew a folded legal
paper, a black-lettered stiff document with an illuminated margin of
pale orange. "I have here," he said, watching Bodger's face, "an order
for Readjustment. It just came up the tube from the Brain. Do I have to
read you the name of the Kinsman on it?"
"Good lord," Bodger whispered. "What--What could he possibly have done
to--?"
"As I said, there was a Vote last night. The proposition was a simple
one: "Shall, in the interests of good government, the draft age be
lowered to fifteen?" You want to know how Lloyd voted?"
"Not _con_?! He has more brains than to--I've _told_ him all the
catch-phrases that demand a _pro_ Vote. Is there any possibility of--?"
"Error?" Stanton smiled bitterly. "You of all people should know
better. It was Lloyd's plate in the slot when the Vote was cast, all
right. The Brain can't be wrong on that. The alternative solutions to
the problem--alternatives to his making a _deliberate_ Vote against
the interests of good government, I mean--are very few: One--He was
not paying attention to the screen. Two--He struck the _con_ button by
accident. Three--He let somebody else use his plate. Any one of which
reasons is in _itself_ grounds for Readjustment!"
"Fred, you wouldn't...."
"Of course not, Bodger. I had the incident erased from the memory
circuits immediately. This is the only copy of his Readjustment order.
You can keep it, tear it up--_Frame_ it, if you like! That's not why
I'm here."
"You don't have to tell me," Bodger sighed. "In the past sixteen hours,
the son of the Secondary Speakster has blithely violated the social and
political ethics of the Hive, to the extent that his destruction--"
"_Bodger!_" Stanton flared. "You have a rotten habit of--"
"Pretty words don't alleviate the truth of the situation. _You_ know,
and _I_ know, what Readjustment is! A one-way trip down the incinerator
chute!"
"All right, we know it! So shut up about it, and let's keep it to
ourselves! What I'm here to find out is--What the hell are you going
to do about this idiot son of yours? This is _twice_ he's had to be
covered for, in a damned short time, Bodger. I can't spend my time
rescuing Lloyd from something I'm starting to think he may well
deserve!"
"Aw, Fred, you wouldn't let--"
"The hell I _wouldn't_! I like Lloyd, and I like you, but if it starts
shaking up my position in the Hive, the _two_ of you can go to blazes!
Do I make myself clear?"
"I--I'll talk to him, Fred, really I will."
"You mean you _haven't_!?" Stanton exploded. "What's the idea of coming
home here in the middle of the day, then? I thought you were going
to--" He took a closer look at the other man, then scowled. "Say, are
you all right, Bodger? Your color's kind of funny. You're not ...
_sick_?"
"Of course not!" Bodger snapped. "I'm _shaken_, if you must know. I
came right home here to chew Lloyd out for last night's episode with
the Horton girl, and when I couldn't find him, I got so mad that I
thought I'd better lie down and cool off. I don't want a scene if I
meet him in a public place. _That would_ get the word out in a hurry,
wouldn't it!"
"Still, you look kind of--" Stanton halted, and gave the subject up
with a sigh. "Maybe I'd be, too, if I got a couple of jolts like you
did. Okay, Bodger. See you back at the office, later." He turned and
went out.
* * * * *
Bodger stood listening until he heard the front door close. Then, still
shirtless, he went into the hallway and threw open the door of Lloyd's
room without knocking. It was empty. But there was the elusive memory
of a sweet fragrance still hovering in the air there.
Bodger swore softly, and returned to his own room to shower and dress.
He had some heavy thinking to do.
When, minutes later, he was refreshed, dressed, and ready to appear in
public again, he'd made a decision. He needed to discover the root of
Lloyd's dangerous behavior. And the likely person to know something
about it would be Lloyd's fiancee, Grace Horton.
Bodger left his Unit and started toward the lift. It was still short of
one o'clock, but the Voteplate of the Secondary Speakster cut through a
lot of mechanical red tape.
The lift arrived at Hundred-Level within seconds after his nocking
his plate beside the call-button. He got aboard and began the descent
toward Ninety-Three.