[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astounding Science-Fiction May 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I think it's about time someone got all those stories together and
burned them. You know the kind I mean--X, the mad scientist, wants to
change the world; Y, the ruthless dictator, wants to rule the world; Z,
the alien planet, wants to destroy the world.
Let me tell you a different kind of story. It's about a whole world
that wanted to rule one man--about a planet of people who hunted down
a single individual in an effort to change his life, yes, and even
destroy him, if it had to be. It's a story about one man against the
entire Earth, but with the positions reversed.
They've got a place in Manhattan City that isn't very well known. Not
known, I mean, in the sense that the cell-nucleus wasn't known until
scientists began to get the general idea. This was an undiscovered
cell-nucleus, and still is, I imagine. It's the pivot of our Universe.
Anything that shakes the world comes out of it; and, strangely enough,
any shake that does come out of it is intended to prevent worse
upheavals.
Don't ask questions now. I'll explain as I go along.
The reason the average man doesn't know about this particular nucleus
is that he'd probably go off his nut if he did. Our officials make
pretty sure it's kept secret, and although some nosy-bodies would
scream to high heaven if they found out something was being kept from
the public, anyone with sense will admit it's for the best.
It's a square white building about ten stories high and it looks like
an abandoned hospital. Around nine o'clock in the morning you can see a
couple of dozen ordinary looking citizens arriving, and at the end of
the workday some of them leave. But there's a considerable number that
stay overtime and work until dawn or until the next couple of dawns.
They're cautious about keeping windows covered so that high-minded
citizens won't see the light and run to the controller's office yawping
about overtime and breaking down Stability. Also they happen to have
permission.
Yeah, it's real big-time stuff. These fellas are so important, and
their work is so important they've got permission to break the one
unbreakable law. They can work overtime. In fact as far as they're
concerned they can do any damned thing they please, Stability or no
Stability--because it so happens they're the babies that maintain
Stability. How? Take it easy. We've got plenty of time--and I'll tell
you.
It's called the Prog Building and it's one of the regular newspaper
beats, just like the police courts used to be a couple of hundred
years ago. Every paper sends a reporter down there at three o'clock.
The reporters hang around and bull for a while and then some brass hat
interviews them and talks policy and economics and about how the world
is doing and how it's going to do. Usually it's dull stuff but every
once in a while something really big comes out, like the time they
decided to drain the Mediterranean. They--
What?
You never heard of that? Say, who is this guy anyway? Are you kidding?
From the Moon, hey, all your life? Never been to the home planet?
Never heard about what goes on? A real cosmic hick. Baby, you can
roll me in a rug. I thought your kind died out before I was born.
O.K., you go ahead and ask questions whenever you want. Maybe I'd
better apologize now for the slang. It's part and parcel of the
newspaper game. Maybe you won't be able to understand me sometimes, but
I've got a heart of gold.
* * * * *
Anyway--I had the regular three o'clock beat at the Prog Building and
this particular day I got there a little early. Seems the _Trib_ had
a new reporter on the beat, guy by the name of Halley Hogan, whom I'd
never met. I wanted to get together with him and talk policy. For the
benefit of the hermit from the Moon I'll explain that no two newspapers
in any city are permitted to share the same viewpoint or opinion.
I thought all you boys knew that. Well, sure--I'm not kidding. Look.
Stability is the watchword of civilization. The world must be Stable,
right? Well, Stability doesn't mean stasis. Stability is reached
through an equipoise of opposing forces that balance each other.
Newspapers are supposed to balance the forces of public opinion so they
have to represent as many different points of view as possible. We
reporters always got together before a story, or after, and made sure
none of us would agree on our attitudes. You know--some would say it
was a terrible thing and some would say it was a wonderful thing and
some would say it didn't mean a thing and so on. I was with the _Times_
and our natural competitor and opposition was the _Trib_.
The newspaper room in the Prog Building is right next to the main
offices, just off the foyer. It's a big place with low-beamed ceiling
and walls done in synthetic wood panels. There was a round table in the
center surrounded by hardwood chairs, but we stood the chairs along
the wall and dragged up the big deep leather ones. We all would sit
with our heels on the table and every chair had a groove on the table
in front of it. There was an unwritten law that no shop could be talked
until every groove was filled with a pair of heels. That's a newspaper
man's idea of a pun.
I was surprised to find almost everybody was in. I slipped into my
place and upped with my feet and then took a look around. Every sandal
showed except the pair that should have been opposite me, so I settled
back and shut my eyes. That was where the _Trib_ man should have been
parked, and I certainly couldn't talk without my opposition being there
to contradict me.