A Bold Stroke
The duties and obligations of my new position were formidable--if one
looked at them merely on paper. I was the official possessor of seven
titles and sub-titles, from Supervising Engineer to Sub-Director of the
Airways; I was the occupant of a capacious suite of rooms, with a huge
private office importantly marked "Hours by appointment only"; I had
the promised two thousand employees, from office girls to "Ventilating
Linemen," all of them strictly at my bid and call; and I was provided
with whole libraries of literature and a list of "55 everyday rules,"
which, I was told, I must scrupulously follow.
However, I hardly glanced at these rules, and never so much as turned
the pages of the instruction books; for I found that my assistants, at
less than a tenth of my salary, did all the work, while my only task
of any consequence was to sign my pay-check every five "wakes." This,
naturally, left me with much time upon my hands; yet I did not waste my
hours, but devoted them to enlarging my knowledge of the ventilation
system, until there was no man in all Wu who understood the apparatus
so thoroughly as I. It was not to be long before I should put my
information to use.
In spite of my good fortune--good fortune that made me the envy not
only of the Third Class but of thousands of Second Class citizens--I
was still not contented, for there were many worries on my mind. One
was the dread of encountering Loa, whom I had never seen since being
declared eugenically unfit; I had, indeed, no intention of seeing her
if I could avoid it, but from time to time I ran across her father,
Professor Tan Trum, and always he would look at me with a reproachful
air, and inquire, "Why don't you come around to the house sometime,
my boy? Loa has been asking about you. Now that you are Second Class,
like us, it can no longer be your Class delicacy that keeps you away."
And always I would apologize, make some excuse--the pressure of work,
etc.--and promise to pay him a visit as soon as I was able. But
secretly I was trembling. Who knew but that Loa and her father would
find some way of setting aside the eugenics provision?
This brings me to my second great worry. Day by day I was growing more
weary of the Underworld and of its network of galleries and chasms
illuminated with the weird greenish-yellow light; day by day I was
becoming more hungry for a sight of the open earth and its blue skies,
its stars and its sunlight and the faces of my own people. And my
thoughts were constantly upon means and opportunities of escape. But
I still was hopelessly imprisoned. More carefully than ever before, I
took stock of my position and found that the only connection between
the Underworld and the Overworld was by means of the ventilating
tubes, some of which admitted the fresh air from above, and others
of which were the outlets for used and vitiated air. But all these
vents had been placed under a military guard, for fear of attack by
Zu, and it was therefore impossible to approach them. Even could I
have approached, however, it would have been doubtful if I could have
climbed to safety through those steep and tortuous tubes.
Therefore I was forced to postpone hope of rescue till a remote and
improbable future; and though the thought was never far from my mind, I
gave myself to more immediate concerns.
Before I had been Ventilating Engineer for many "wakes," I began to
turn my attention to a project so vast, so ambitious, so astonishing
in its possibilities that I might have been deemed a madman merely
to conceive of it. It was the Ventilation Strike which had first put
the idea into my mind; and while in the beginning it had seemed too
fantastic for consideration, the idea kept recurring and haunted me
by day and in my dreams, until at length I weighed its advantages
dispassionately, and decided that it was not so impractical as it had
seemed. And thereupon I took the first steps toward that upheaval later
known as the Ventilating Revolution.
Had it not been for a discovery which I had made a few days before,
the Ventilating Revolution would not have been possible. During my
investigation of the air system, I had come across a certain little
wheel, rusty with age and disuse, which I had turned with surprising
results. Upon being jerked slightly to the right, this wheel set into
operation an electric current which released a steel partition in the
central ventilating tube, blocking the channel somewhat as the human
breathing apparatus would be blocked by a pebble in the windpipe. It
was quite by accident that I had made the discovery, and at first I had
merely amused myself by choking the ventilation for periods of a few
seconds each--not long enough for the effects to be noticed.
* * * * *
But gradually, as I toyed with the wheel, a startling realization came
to me. Its rusted condition showed that it had not been used recently;
indeed, it may have been neglected for decades or even for centuries.
Was it not likely that the chalk-faces, because of their inability to
see clearly close at hand, had overlooked its existence? Was it not
conceivable that their ancestors, whose eyes had been less subject
to that paralysis of the muscles of accommodation which came of a
prolonged underground life, had been better able to see things close at
hand, and had made use of this little wheel, whose very existence and
purpose were now unknown and forgotten?
So I asked myself; and later experience was to give me an affirmative
answer.
The wheel, located in an unfrequented side-gallery a few hundred yards
from my office, now became the crux of a daring scheme. Suppose that
I were to stage a private strike? Suppose that, on my own account,
I should turn off the air-supply? Suppose that I were to deliver an
ultimatum to the rulers, demanding some supreme prize for myself--yes,
even demanding that I be made First Class, and be given an important
post in the Government! More than that! Why should I not myself take
control? Why not displace Thuno Flâtum? Certainly, I could not be less
fitted to rule!
To such dizzy heights did ambition lead me! As I have already said,
I dismissed the idea at first as impractical--preposterous! Yet
gradually, despite myself, I was captivated. Did I not have all
resources at my disposal? Would not the people be helpless once their
air had been shut off? Would they not grow as panicky as during the
recent strike and gladly grant anything I asked?--and would I not be
helped by the reputation which those anti-strike organs, the _Blare_
and the _Screamer_, had unwittingly built up for me?
Besides, was not my present position ideal for success? Two thousand
ventilating employees, being subject to my orders, would follow
wherever I led; for such was their state of thoughtlessness that they
would act first and inquire afterwards, if at all, and would not know
whether they were shutting off the air-supply or turning it on.
Despite all these advantages, however, there were scruples and doubts
that preyed upon my mind. Well I knew the results if my one-man strike
should fail; I would be seized as a traitor to the Ventilation Company
and sentenced to the violet ray! And even if the strike were to
succeed--would it be worth the cost? For my own part, I could provide
against the air-stoppage by supplying my office through a small pipe
specially connected with the main ventilating artery; but the millions
of common people would have no such protection, and, if the strike were
long protracted, many of them might be stifled. On what grounds could I
justify such loss of life?
The answer, however, was ready at hand. Could I attain my objective
and supplant Thuno Flâtum as Dictator, I would take steps to end the
war with Zu--in fact, to outlaw war forever--and the millions of lives
thus saved would far outbalance the paltry few destroyed by the lack of
ventilation. "The gain justifies the means!" I told myself, quoting an
old adage of the chalk-faces; and, fortified by this high moral axiom,
I decided to take the plunge.
The following day all Wu was thrown into a furor. Another ventilation
strike had been declared, stated the _Blare_ and the _Screamer_ in
a series of "Super-extra-extras." The air-supply had been cut off
entirely--and no one knew who the strikers were or what they demanded.
It was suspected that spies from Zu were behind the plot.