Feudalism myself. It starts off with a bang, but tends to go sterile.”
“Industrial feudalism,” he said indignantly. “What do you mean? The
government is a constitutional monarchy with the king merely a powerless
symbol. The standard of living is high. Elections are honest and
democratic. They’ve got a three-party system....”
“Which is largely phony,” Tog interrupted. “You’ve got to do some reading
between the lines, especially when the books you’re reading are turned out
by the industrial feudalistic publishing companies in Avalon.”
“What’s this industrial feudalism, you keep talking about? Avalon has a
system of free enterprise.”
“A gobbledygook term,” Tog said, irritatingly. “Industrial feudalism is a
socio-economic system that develops when industrial wealth is concentrated
into the hands of a comparatively few families. It finally gets to the
point of a closed circle all but impossible to break into. These
industrial feudalistic families become so powerful that only in rare
instances can anyone lift himself into their society. They dominate every
field, including the so-called labor unions, which amount to one of the
biggest businesses of all. With their unlimited resources they even own
every means of dispensing information.”
“You mean,” Ronny argued, “that on Avalon you can’t start up a newspaper
of your own and say whatever you wish?”
“Certainly you can, theoretically. If you have the resources.
Unfortunately, such enterprises become increasingly expensive to start. Or
you could start a radio, TV or Tri-Di station—if you had the resources.
However, even if you overcame all your handicaps and your newspaper or
broadcasting station became a success, the industrial feudalistic families
in control of Avalon’s publishing and broadcasting fields have the endless
resources to buy you out, or squeeze you out, by one nasty means or
another.”
Ronny snorted. “Well, the people must be satisfied or they’d vote some
fundamental changes.”
Tog nodded. “They’re satisfied, and no wonder. Since childhood every means
of forming their opinions have been in the hands of industrial feudalistic
families—including the schools.”
“You mean the schools are private?”
“No, they don’t have to be. The government is completely dominated by the
fifty or so families which for all practical purposes own Avalon. That
includes the schools. Some of the higher institutions of learning are
private, but they, too, are largely dependent upon grants from the
families.”
-------------------------------------
Ronny was irritated by her know-all air. He tapped the book he’d been
reading with a finger. “They don’t control the government. Avalon’s got a
three-party system. Any time the people don’t like the government, they
can vote in an alternative.”
“That’s an optical illusion. There are three parties, but each is
dominated by the fifty families, and election laws are such that for all
practical purposes it’s impossible to start another party. Theoretically
it’s possible, actually it isn’t. The voters can vary back and forth
between the three political parties but it doesn’t make any difference
which one they elect. They all stand for the same thing—a continuation of
the status quo.”
“Then you claim it isn’t democracy at all?”
Tog sighed. “That’s a much abused word. Actually, pure democracy is seldom
seen. They pretty well had it in primitive society where government was
based on the family. You voted for one of your relatives in your clan to
represent you in the tribal councils. Every one in the tribe was equal so
far as apportionments of the necessities of life were concerned. No one,
even the tribal chiefs, ate better than anyone else, no one had a better
home.”
Ronny said, snappishly, “And if man had remained at that level, we’d never
have gotten anywhere.”
“That’s right,” she said. “For progress, man needed a leisure class.
Somebody with the time to study, to experiment, to work things out.”
He said, “We’re getting away from the point. You said in spite of
appearances they don’t have democracy on Avalon.”
“They have a pretense of it. But only free men can practice democracy. So
long as your food, clothing and shelter are controlled by someone else,
you aren’t free. Wait until I think of an example.” She put her right
forefinger to her chin, thoughtfully.
Holy smokes, she was a cute trick. If only she wasn’t so confounded
irritating.
Tog said, “Do you remember the State of California in Earth history?”
“I think so. On the west coast of North America.”
“That’s right. Well, back in the Twentieth Century, Christian calendar,
they had an economic depression. During it a crackpot organization called
Thirty Dollars Every Thursday managed to get itself on the ballot. Times
were bad enough but had this particular bunch got into power it would have
become chaotic. At first no thinking person took them seriously, however a
majority of people in California at that time had little to lose and in
the final week or so of the election campaign the polls showed that Thirty
Dollars Every Thursday was going to win. So, a few days before voting many
of the larger industries and businesses in the State ran full page ads in
the newspapers. They said substantially the same thing. _If Thirty Dollars
Every Thursday wins this election, our concern will close its doors. Do
not bother to come back to work Monday._”
Ronny was scowling at her. “What’s your point?”
She shrugged delicate shoulders. “The crackpots were defeated, of course,
which was actually good for California. But my point is that the voters of
California were not actually free since their livelihoods were controlled
by others. This is an extreme case, of course, but the fact always
applies.”
A thought suddenly hit Ronny Bronston. “Look,” he said. “Tommy Paine. Do
you think he’s merely escaping from New Delos, or is it possible that
Avalon is his next destination? Is he going to try and overthrow the
government there?”
She was shaking her head, but frowning. “I don’t think so. Things are
quite stable on Avalon.”
“Stable?” he scowled at her. “From what you’ve been saying, they’re pretty
bad.”
She continued to shake her head. “Don’t misunderstand, Ronny. On an
assignment like this, it’s easy to get the impression that all the United
Planets are in a state of socio-political confusion, but it isn’t so. A
small minority of planets are ripe for the sort of trouble Tommy Paine
stirs up. Most are working away, developing, making progress, slowly
evolving. Avalon is one of these. The way things are there, Tommy Paine
couldn’t make a dent on changing things, even if he wanted to, and there’s
no particular reason to believe he does.”
Ronny growled. “From what I can learn of the guy he’s anxious to stir up
trouble wherever he goes.”
“I don’t know. If there’s any pattern at all in his activities, it seems
to be that he picks spots where things are ripe to boil over on their own.
He acts as a catalyst. In a place like Avalon he wouldn’t get to first
base. Possibly fifty years from now, things will have developed on Avalon
to the point where there is dissatisfaction. By that time,” she said
dryly, “we’ll assume Tommy Paine will no longer be a problem to the
Commissariat of Interplanetary Affairs for one reason or the other.”
Ronny took up his book again. He growled, “I can’t figure out his
motivation. If I could just put my finger on that.”
For once she agreed with him. “I’ve got an idea, Ronny, that once you have
that, you’ll have Tommy Paine.”
-------------------------------------
They drew blank on Avalon.
Or, at least, it was drawn for them before they ever arrived.
The Section G agent permanently assigned to that planet had already
checked and double checked the possibilities. None of the four-man crew of
the UP spacecraft had been on New Delos at the time of the assassination
of the God-King. They, and their craft, had been light-years away on
another job.
Ronny Bronston couldn’t believe it. He simply couldn’t believe it.
The older agent, his name was Jheru Bulchand, was definite. He went over
it with Ronny and Tog in a bar adjoining UP headquarters. He had dossiers
on each of the ten men, detailed dossiers. On the face of it, none of them
could be Paine.
“But one of them has to be,” Ronny pleaded. He explained their method of
eliminating the forty-eight employees of UP on New Delos.
Bulchand shrugged. “You’ve got holes in that method of elimination. You’re
assuming Tommy Paine is an individual, and you have no reason to. My own
theory is that it’s an organization.”
Ronny said unhappily, “Then you’re of the opinion that there is a Tommy
Paine?”
The older agent was puffing comfortably on an old style briar pipe. He
nodded definitely. “I believe Tommy Paine exists as an organization.
Possibly once, originally, it was a single person, but now it’s a group.
How large, I wouldn’t know. Probably not too large or by this time
somebody would have betrayed it, or somebody would have cracked and we
would have caught them. Catch one and you’ve got the whole organization
what with our modern means of interrogation.”
Tog said, “I’ve heard the opinion before.”
Jheru Bulchand pointed at Ronny with his pipe stem. “If its an
organization, then none of that eliminating you did is valid. Your
assassin could have been one of the women. He could have been one of the
men you eliminated as too young—someone recently admitted to the Tommy
Paine organization.”
Ronny checked the last of his theories. “Why did Section G send six of its
agents here?”
“Nothing to do with Tommy Paine,” Bulchand said. “It’s a different sort of
crisis.”
“Just for my own satisfaction, what kind of crisis?”
Bulchand sketched it quickly. “There are two Earth type planets in this
solar system. Avalon was the first to be colonized and developed rapidly.
After a couple of centuries, Avalonians went over and settled on Catalina.
They eventually set up a government of their own. Now Avalon has a surplus
of industrial products. Her economic system is such that she produces more
than she can sell back to her own people. There’s a glut.”
Tog said demurely, “So, of course, they want to dump it in Catalina.”
Bulchand nodded. “In fact, they’re willing to give it away. They’ve
offered to build railroads, turn over ships and aircraft, donate whole
factories to Catalina’s slowly developing economy.”
Ronny said, “Well, how does that call for Section G agents?”
“Catalina has evoked Article Two of the UP Charter. No member planet of UP
is to interfere with the internal political, socio-economic or religious
affairs of another member planet. Avalon claims the Charter doesn’t apply
since Catalina belongs to the same solar system and since she’s a former
colony. We’re trying to smooth the whole thing over, before Avalon dreams
up some excuse for military action.”
Ronny stared at him. “I get the feeling every other sentence is being left
out of your explanation. It just doesn’t make sense. In the first place,
why is Avalon as anxious as all that to give away what sounds like a
fantastic amount of goods?”
“I told you, they have a glut. They’ve overproduced and, as a result,
they’ve got a king-size depression on their hands, or will have unless
they find markets.”
“Well, why not trade with some of the planets that want her products?”
Tog said as though reasoning with a youngster, “Planets outside her own
solar system are too far away for it to be practical even if she had
commodities they didn’t. She needs a nearby planet more backward than
herself, a planet like Catalina.”
“Well, that brings us to the more fantastic question. Why in the world
doesn’t Catalina accept? It sounds to me like pure philanthropy on the
part of Avalon.”
Bulchand was wagging his pipe stem in a negative gesture. “Bronston,
governments are never motivated by idealistic reasons. Individuals might
be, and even small groups, but governments never. Governments, including
that of Avalon, exist for the benefit of the class or classes that control
them. The only things that motivate them are the interests of that class.”
“Well, this sounds like an exception,” Ronny said argumentatively. “How
can Catalina lose if the Avalonians grant them railroads, factories and
all the rest of it?”
Tog said, “Don’t you see, Ronny? It gives Avalon a foothold in the
Catalina economy. When the locomotives wear out on the railroad, new
engines, new parts, must be purchased. They won’t be available on Catalina
because there will be no railroad industry because none will have ever
grown up. Catalina manufacturers couldn’t compete with that initial free
gift. They’ll be dependent on Avalon for future equipment. In the
factories, when machines wear out, they will be replaceable only with the
products of Avalon’s industry.”
Bulchand said, “There’s an analogy in the early history of the United
States. When its fledgling steel industry began, they set up a high tariff
to protect it against British competition. The British were amazed and
indignant, pointing out that they could sell American steel products at
one third the local prices, if only allowed to do so. The United States
said no thanks, it didn’t want to be tied, industrially, to Great
Britain’s apron strings. And in a couple of decades American steel
production passed England’s. In a couple of more decades American steel
production was many times that of England’s and she was taking British
markets away from her all over the globe.”
“At any rate,” Ronny said, “it’s not a Tommy Paine matter.”
Just for luck, though, Ronny and Tog double checked all over again on
Bulchand’s efforts. They interviewed all six of the Section G agents. Each
of them carried a silver badge that gleamed only for the individual who
possessed it. All of which eliminated the possibility that Paine had
assumed the identity of a Section G operative. So that was out.
They checked the four crew members, but there was no doubt there, either.
The craft had been far away at the time of the assassination on New Delos.
On the third day, Ronny Bronston, disgusted, knocked on the door of Tog’s
hotel room. The door screen lit up and Tog, looking out at him said, “Oh,
come on in, Ronny, I was just talking to Earth.”
He entered.
Tog had set up her Section G communicator on a desk top and Sid Jakes’
grinning face was in the tiny, brilliant screen. Ronny approached close
enough for the other to take him in.
Jakes said happily, “Hi, Ronny, no luck, eh?”
Ronny shook his head, trying not to let his face portray his feelings of
defeat. This after all was a probationary assignment, and the supervisor
had the power to send Ronny Bronston back to the drudgery of his office
job at Population Statistics.
“Still working on it. I suppose it’s a matter of returning to New Delos
and grinding away at the forty-eight employees of the UP there.”
Sid Jakes pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Possibly this whole thing was a
false alarm. At any rate, there seems to be a hotter case on the fire. If
our local agents have it straight, Paine is about to pull one of his coups
on Kropotkin. This is a top-top-secret, of course, one of the few times
we’ve ever detected him before the act.”
Ronny was suddenly alert, his fatigue of disgust of but a moment ago,
completely forgotten. “Where?” he said.
“Kropotkin,” Jakes said. “One of the most backward planets in UP and
seemingly a setup for Paine’s sort of trouble making. The authorities, if
you can use the term applied to Kropotkin, are already complaining,
threatening to invoke Article One of the Charter, or to resign from UP.”
Jake looked at Tog again. “Do you know Kropotkin, Lee Chang?”
She shook her head. “I’ve heard of it, rather vaguely. Named after some
old anarchist, I believe.”
“That’s the place. One of the few anarchist societies in UP. You don’t
hear much from them.” He turned to Ronny again. “I think that’s your bet.
Hop to it, boy. We’re going to catch this Tommy Paine guy, or
organization, or whatever, soon or United Planets is going to know it. We
can’t keep the lid on indefinitely. If word gets around of his activities,
then we’ll lose member planets like Christmas trees shedding needles after
New Year’s.” He grinned widely. “That’s sounds like a neat trick, eh?”
-------------------------------------
Ronny Bronston had got to the point where he avoided controversial
subjects with Tog even when provoked and she had a sneaky little way of
provoking arguments. They had only one really knock down and drag-out
verbal battle on the way to Kropotkin.
It had started innocently enough after dinner on the space liner on which
they had taken passage for the first part of the trip. To kill time they
were playing Battle Chess with its larger board and added contingents of
pawns and castles.
Ronny said idly, “You know, in spite of the fact that I’m a third
generation United Planets citizen and employee, I’m just beginning to
realize how far out some of our member planets are. I had no idea before.”
She frowned in concentration, before moving. She was advancing her men in
echelon attack, taking losses in exchange for territory and trying to pen
him up in such small space that he couldn’t maneuver.
She said, “How do you mean?”
Ronny lifted and dropped a shoulder. “Well, New Delos and its theocracy,
for instance, and Shangri-La and Mother and some of the other planets with
extremes in government of socio-economic system. I hadn’t the vaguest idea
about such places.”
She made a deprecating sound. “You should see Amazonia, or, for that
matter, the Orwellian State.”
“_Amazonia_,” he said, “does that mean what it sounds like it does?”
She made her move and settled back in satisfaction. Her pawns were in such
position that his bishops were both unusable. He’d tried to play a phalanx
game in the early stages of her attack, but she’d broken through, rolling
up his left flank after sacrificing a castle and a knight.
“Certainly does,” she said. “A fairly recently colonized planet. A few
thousand feminists no men at all—moved onto it a few centuries ago. And
it’s still an out and out matriarchy.”
Ronny cleared his throat delicately. “Without men ... ah, how did they
continue several centuries?”
Tog suppressed her amusement. “Artificial insemination, at first, so I
understand. They brought their, ah, supply with them. But then there were
boys among the first generation on the new planet and even the Amazonians
weren’t up to cold bloodedly butchering their children. So they merely
enslaved them. Nice girls.”
Ronny stared at her. “You mean all men are automatically slaves on this
planet?”
“That’s right.”
Ronny made an improperly thought out move, trying to bring up a castle to
reinforce his collapsing flank. He said, “UP allows _anybody_ to join
evidently,” and there was disgust in his voice.
“Why not?” she said mildly.
“Well, there should be _some_ standards.”
Tog moved quickly, dominating with a knight several squares he couldn’t
afford to lose. She looked up at him, her dark eyes sparking. “The point
of UP is to include all the planets. That way at least conflict can be
avoided and some exchange of science, industrial techniques and cultural
gains take place. And you must remember that while in power practically no
socio-economic system will admit to the fact that it could possibly change
for the better. But actually there is nothing less stable. Socio-economic
systems are almost always in a condition of flux. Planets such as Amazonia
might for a time seem so brutal in their methods as to exclude their right
to civilized intercourse with the rest. However, one of these days
there’ll be a change—or one of these centuries. They all change, sooner or
later.” She added softly, “Even Han.”
“Han?” Ronny said.
Her voice was quiet. “Where I was born, Ronny. Colonized from China in the
very early days. In fact, I spent my childhood in a commune.” She said
musingly, “The party bureaucrats thought their system an impregnable,
unchangeable one. Your move.”
Ronny was fascinated. “And what happened?” He was in full retreat now, and
with nowhere to go, his pieces pinned up for the slaughter. He moved a
pawn to try and open up his queen.
“Why don’t you concede?” she said. “Tommy Paine happened.”
“Paine!”
“Uh-huh. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it some time.” She pressed
closer with her own queen.
He stared disgustedly at the board. “Well, that’s what I mean,” he
muttered. “I had no idea there were so many varieties of crackpot
politico-economic systems among the UP membership.”
“They’re not necessarily crackpot,” she protested mildly. “Just at
different stages of development.”
“Not crackpot!” he said. “Here we are heading for a planet named Kropotkin
which evidently practices anarchy.”
“Your move,” she said. “What’s wrong with anarchism?”
He glowered at her, in outraged disgust. Was it absolutely impossible for
him to say anything without her disagreement?
Tog said mildly, “The anarchistic ethic is one of the highest man has ever
developed.” She added, after a moment of pretty consideration.
“Unfortunately, admittedly, it hasn’t been practical to put to practice.
It will be interesting to see how they have done on Kropotkin.”
“Anarchist ethic, yes,” Ronny snapped. “I’m no student of the movement but
the way I understand it, there isn’t any.”
Tog smiled sweetly. “The belief upon which they base their teachings is
that no man is capable of judging another.”
Ronny cast his eyes ceilingward. “O.K., I give up!”
She began rapidly resetting the pieces. “Another game?” she said brightly.
“Hey! I didn’t mean the game! I was just about to counterattack.”
“Ha!” she said.
-------------------------------------
The Section G agent on Kropotkin was named Hideka Yamamoto, but he was on
a field tour and wouldn’t be back for several days. However, there wasn’t
especially any great hurry so far as Ronny Bronston and Tog Lee Chang Chu
knew. They got themselves organized in the rather rustic equivalent of a
hotel, which was located fairly near UP headquarters, and took up the
usual problems of arranging for local exchange, meals, means of
transportation and such necessities.
It was a greater problem than usual. In fact, hadn’t it been for the
presence of the UP organization, which had already gone through all this
the hard way, some of the difficulties would have been all but
insurmountable.
For instance, there was no local exchange. There was no medium of exchange
at all. Evidently simple barter was the rule.
In the hotel—if it could be called a hotel—lobby, Ronny Bronston looked at
Tog. “Anarchism!” he said. “Oh, great. The highest ethic of all. And
what’s the means of transportation on this wonderful planet? The horse.
And how are we going to get a couple of horses with no means of exchange?”
She tinkled laughter.
“All right,” he said. “You’re the Man Friday. You find out the details and
handle them. I’m going out to take a look around the town—if you can call
this a town.”
“It’s the capital of Kropotkin,” Tog said placatingly, though with a
mocking background in her tone. “Name of Bakunin. And very pleasant, too,
from what little I’ve seen. Not a bit of smog, industrial fumes, street
dirt, street noises—”
“How could there be?” he injected disgustedly. “There isn’t any industry,
there aren’t any cars, and for all practical purposes, no streets. The
houses are a quarter of a mile or so apart.”
She laughed at him again. “City boy,” she said. “Go on out there and enjoy
nature a little. It’ll do you good. Anybody who has cooped himself up in
that one big city, Earth, all his life ought to enjoy seeing what the
great outdoors looks like.”
He looked at her and grinned. She was cute as a pixie, and there were no
two ways about that. He wondered for a moment what kind of a wife she’d
make. And then shuddered inwardly. Life would be one big contradiction of
anything he’d managed to get out of his trap.