That worthy said apologetically, "May I see your credit card, major?
The Exclusive Room is limited to Upper--"
Nadine said coldly, "The major is my guest. I am Dr. Nadine Haer." Her
voice held the patina of those to the manor born, and not to be
gainsaid. The other bowed hurriedly, murmured something placatingly,
and was gone.
There was a tic at the side of Joe's mouth which usually manifested
itself only in combat. He said stiffly, "I am afraid we should have
gone to a Middle establishment."
"Nonsense. What difference does it make? Besides, don't change the
subject. I am not to be fooled, Joe Mauser. Something is afoot. Now,
just what?"
The tic had intensified. Joe Mauser looked at the woman he loved,
realizing that it could never occur to her that he, a Mid-Middle,
would presume to think in terms of wooing her. That even in her
supposed scorn of rank, privilege and status, she was still,
subconsciously perhaps, a noble and he a serf. Evolution there was in
society, and the terms were different, but it was still a world of
class distinction and she was of the ruling class, and he the ruled,
she a patrician, he a pleb.
His voice went very even, very flat, almost as though he was speaking
to a foe. "When we first met, Nadine, I told you that I had been born
a Mid-Lower. Why, I don't know, but from my earliest memories I
revolted against the strata in which birth placed me. History--I have
had lots of time to read history, in hospital beds--tells me there
have been few socio-economic systems under which the strong,
intelligent, aggressive, cunning or ruthless couldn't work their way
to the top. Very well, I intend to do it under People's Capitalism."
"Industrial Feudalism," she murmured.
"Call it what you will. I won't be happy until I'm a member of that
one per cent on top."