[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction January 1952.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
This world was a setup for any man who wanted to get
along--provided one had enough victims to toss to the wolves!
The Master Clock on the black desk in the office of _Federal
Executions_ made a quiet blipping sound. Immediately the lights lowered
to Emote Neutral. Long, probing shadow fingers snaked here and there
across the floor, and a silence that should have been restful--and
wasn't--descended on the place.
Tony Radek leaned back in his chair and frowned. One-fifteen in the
morning. At one-fifteen in the morning no man, no matter who, should be
going to his Neg-Emote. Why not hang a man instead? Or electrocute him?
Or gas him the way they used to back in the old days? In those old days
his grandfather used to talk about, where twelve ordinary citizens said
the word that peeled the life off a man like skinning an onion.
He sighed softly and folded his hands across a tiny paunch that was
just beginning to show. Tony Radek was getting old. He was a "safe"
now. That meant he needn't worry about the war any longer. He was
a nice, mild, peaceable gentleman who stayed at home and thought
beautiful thoughts about the younger men out in space. A man his age
didn't feel anger and hate and retribution and lust and treachery any
more. He was just a little old fat guy. He was the Federal Executioner.
He frowned again and leaned forward and touched a nacre button on the
desk top. That lit up the screen on his left. Not the Master Screen,
which was the one on his right. This was the other, the one that could
tell him what was going on outside the office, outside in _Portal
Waiting_, where certain peculiar ghouls who derived a measure of
excitement from the executions were allowed by the gracious State to
hang out.
He stared at the screen. His frown deepened. _Portal Waiting_ should be
bare and vacant at this hour, but it wasn't. This was the third night
in a row that it wasn't. There was a girl out there. A quiet girl, a
girl who looked about as ghoulish as one of the nice red ritual roses
over in the cooler built into the wall.
_Damn the dame, why didn't she go home?_ Tony Radek's upper lip lifted
a little, showing small angry teeth.
At once the Emote Neutral lights in the office flickered wildly. Tony
pulled his eyes from the screen and glared up at the lights. That's
progress for you. Let a man go on one little momentary emotional
binge, like this, and right away spies in the joint start screaming.
In a moment now, the one on his right--the Master Screen--would blink
into life and old hell-hips himself would start poking around asking
questions. Just see if it didn't.
He turned his head to the right, stared at the Master Screen and waited.
The screen blazed into life. A narrow-faced man with washed-away eyes
that looked as though they'd seen sin and hadn't liked it peered
angrily over toward Tony behind the desk.
"_Mr._ Radek!" he had a thin, thin voice that sounded like a sheet of
paper slitting down the middle. "What's going on down there? Can't you
control your own office? Or maybe you'd like to be back in Training?"
The eyes squinted sharply.
Tony worked up an innocent look. He spread his hands on the black
surface of the desk, smiled, and said mildly: "Out of your mind. My
lights have been as steady as old Emote Neutral herself. Probably that
blonde you got Central Direction kidded into thinking you need as an
assistant--probably you sneaked up on her when she was in Personal Lok
and...."
"What?" The Master Screen trembled a little and the narrow-faced man's
eyes seemed to jerk out of registration for a moment. "Look here,
Radek, I've stood just about enough of your insinuations!"
"Look who's making the lights flicker now," said Tony calmly. He waved
an arm around the office. Emote Neutral was flickering rapidly as
though controlled by an interrupter switch. "Central Direction should
see this," he observed.
He stared briefly at the contorted face on the screen. That face was
working convulsively now, getting red like the ritual roses over in the
cooler.
He snorted disgustedly, reached forward and touched the matswitch which
threw the Master Screen into visi-lok. At once the screen darkened and
all sound left the office.
That was more like it. Let old hell-hips up in Supplies and Control
stew if he wanted, there wasn't anything in the Constitution--not even
the old Constitution--that said a man had to sit and look at him.
"_Central Direction to Radek!_" a hard voice rapped out of the
alternate speaker over in the corner.
Tony Radek jerked, spun around. He swallowed quickly, said nervously:
"Yes, sir?"
"Radek, you're violating Ordinance Six, Code 325, Division of Security!
Unlock that visi-screen at once!"
"Yes, sir." Tony's hand flew to the matswitch, pulled it. "Sorry. Elbow
must have hit it accidentally. Didn't know it was locked...."
"Radek, there's a war on. That visi-lok must be used only in emergency.
You know that."
"Yes, sir. Like I said...."
"I heard. In the future, be a little more careful. And, Radek--"
"Yes, sir?"
"Ready Cell Two. Execution at one-twenty-seven. John Edward Haley.
Convicted of mass interference of morale, City of Greater New Denver,
as outlined under Congressional Act of April 12, 2250. Decision
rendered equally on all three Final Master Machines."
"No appeal?" asked Tony very softly.
"No appeal. And, Radek--"
"Yes, sir?"
"The condemned is married. Check with Supplies and Control for bill of
divorcement. His wife is a young woman, will have to marry again in the
morning as outlined under Congressional Act of May 28, 2211. Got that?"
"Yes, sir."
The Master Screen went dead. Tony blinked. Bill of divorcement. Will
have to marry again in the morning as outlined under Congressional Act.
By God, that's progress for you! He sat staring at the Master Screen
for a long time.
Then he sighed, punched the button on Supplies and Control.
"Hell-hips!" he growled. "Snap it up. Execution at one-twenty-seven.
Bill of divorcement."
The narrow face peered sourly out at him from the Master Screen. It
didn't have much emotion in it now. It was almost blank, like the face
of a humanoid robot somebody'd left something out of.
"Been hittin' the bottle again, huh?" said Tony.
"My name is Clacker, _Mr._ Radek. Arthur Jared Clacker. Kindly keep
that in mind when you address me."
"Sure, sure. Nice name. Lovely name. Sounds like a stone-boat going
over ground glass. Whip up that bill of divorcement."
"It's ready, _Mr._ Radek. _Been_ ready for the last half hour.
I suggest that if there were a little of my own well known and
demonstrated efficiency in _your_ office, perhaps Executions would
be something to be proud of. Instead of what it is. Instead of the
foul-smelling, sloppily run, lice-infested...."
Tony's hand reached out for the button on Supplies and Control. "Watch
those lights," he said tiredly.
* * * * *
He got up from the desk, stretched a little and went across the office
to the cooler in the opposite wall. His feet made no noise; he had that
quiet tread that all cats, a few men and some women achieve. His hand
interrupted the automatic cellgard and a tiny, almost hidden door in
the wall swung wide. He reached up, poked his hand in the cooler, felt
around. A little smile came into his eyes. He took his hand out of the
cooler, got up on tiptoes and looked inside. No roses. Not even one
rose.
Not even _half_ of a rose.
Chuckling, he went back to the desk and jabbed a finger at the button
over Supplies and Control.
"Hell-hips!" he rapped. "Where's all that well known and demonstrated
efficiency I've had to rake out of my ears?"
The narrow face lit up the Master Screen once more. It looked bored
now. "_Mr._ Radek, there was something?"
"Yeah. Something." Tony's voice dropped, got deadly soft. "How many
weeks since you checked the cooler, boy? There aren't any ritual roses."
"There--there aren't any?"
"That's right, Mr. Clacker. Now get away from that screen. I'm
reporting this to Central Direction." His finger jammed down on the
Supplies and Control button. He watched the Master Screen go blank and
grinned. He thought, "Shake a little, Mr. Clacker, shake a little,"
because he didn't dare even whisper to himself.
He sat down at the desk again and thought of something. His finger went
out, touched the button on the screen on the left--the _Portal Waiting_
screen.
She was still there, hunched up in one of the chairs like a small child
somebody had left in an interplanet waiting room and then gone away and
forgotten. Tony frowned once more. Damn that dame, she was spoiling his
nights.
He got up, crossed the office on silent feet, opened the door of
Executions, went down a bare, silent hall. At the levelators he waited
a moment for the platform, took it down, got off again at _Portal
Waiting_, and crossed to the foyer.
She was there, just as she'd been on the screen upstairs, only clearer,
more vivid, something witnessed instead of second hand, something with
dimension to it. She was in a big chair that could have accommodated
two like her. She had her legs tucked under her and her brown eyes that
looked up at Tony's approach weren't any larger than two full moons.