Joe Mauser, Mercenary from Tomorrow. Mack Reynolds

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ life showing how an orderly conducts himself in the presence of his superior.” Mauser took another pull and yawned. “Well, forget about it. I like to be on close terms with any man who goes into a fracas with me. When things pickle, I want him to be on my side, not nursing a grudge brought on by his officer trying to give him an inferiority complex.” The little man was eyeing him in surprise.

      Mauser finished his drink and came to his feet to get another one. He said, “On two occasions I’ve had an orderly save my life. I’m not taking any chances but that there might be a third opportunity.”

      “Well, yessir. Does the captain want me to get him—”

      “I’ll get it,” Mauser said.

      When he’d returned to his chair, he said, “Why did you join up with Baron Haer, Max?”

      The other shrugged. “Well, besides the fact that Continental Hovercraft’s recruit roster was full, the usual. The excitement. The idea of all those fans watching me on telly. The shares of common stock I’ll get. And, you never know, maybe a bounce in caste. I wouldn’t mind making Upper-Lower.”

      Mauser said sourly, “One fracas and you’ll be over the desire to have the buffs watching you on telly while they sit around sucking trank. And you’ll probably be over the desire for the excitement, too. Of course, the share of stock is another thing.”

      “You aren’t just countin’ down, Captain,” Max said, an almost surly overtone in his voice. “You don’t know what it’s like being born with no more common stock shares than a Mid-Lower.”

      Mauser held his peace, nursing his drink. He was moderately fond of alcohol, but could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had really overindulged. And he never used trank, that government-approved and -promoted narcotic. An old pro in the Category Military doesn’t foul up his reflexes, certainly not on the eve of a fracas. He let his eyebrows rise to encourage the other to go on.

      Max said doggedly, “Sure, they call it People’s Capitalism and everybody gets issued enough shares to insure him a basic living from the cradle to the grave, like they say. But let me tell you, you’re a Middle and you don’t realize just how basic the basic living of a Lower can be.”

      Mauser yawned. If he hadn’t been so tired, he might have found more amusement in the situation. If nothing else, it was ironic.

      He decided to let Mainz continue to think he was talking to one with no knowledge of life as a Lower. “Why don’t you work? A Lower can always add to his stock by working. ”

      Max stirred, indignant. “Work? Listen, sir, mine’s just one more field that’s been automated right out of existence. Category Food Preparation, Sub-division Cooking, Branch Chef. I’m a junior chef, see? But cooking isn’t left in the hands of slobs who might drop a cake of soap into the soup.” That last was delivered with an angry sarcasm. “It’s done automatic. The only changes made in cooking are by real top experts, almost scientists, like. And most of them are Uppers.”

      Mauser sighed inwardly. Mainz’s story was like that of millions of others. The man might have been born into the food preparation category from a long line of chefs, but he knew precious little about his field, Mauser might have suspected. He himself had been born into Clothing Category, Sub-division Shoes, Branch Repair. Cobbler—a meaningless trade, since shoes, like so many other items, were no longer repaired but discarded upon showing signs of wear. In an economy of complete abundance, there is little reason to repair basic commodities.

      That was the result of social evolution. Decades of reckless experimentation during the previous century had led to this: a utopia in which almost no one had to work and in which—typical of such societies—a small fraction of the population held the true power and wealth. In an attempt to make everyone equal, inequality had been intensified. It was high time the government investigated category assignment and reshuffled and reassigned half the nation’s population. But there would still be the question of what to do with the technologically unemployed.

      Max was saying, “The only way I could figure on a promotion to a higher caste, or the only way to earn stock shares, was by crossing categories. And you know what that means. Either Category Military or Category Religion, and I sure as Zen don’t know nothing about religion.”

      Mauser chuckled at the unintentional humor in Max’s statement. “Theoretically, you can cross categories into any field you want, Max,” he said mildly.

      Max snorted. “Theoretically is right…sir. But have you ever heard of a Lower, or even a Middle like yourself, crossing categories to, say, some Upper category like banking?”

      Mauser chuckled again. He liked this peppery little fellow. If Max worked out as well as Joe thought he might, there was a possibility of taking him along to the next fracas. He had once had a batman for a period of almost three years, until the man had copped one that led to an amputation and retirement.

      Max was saying, “I’m not saying anything against the old-time way of doing things, or talking against the government, but I’ll tell you, Captain, every year goes by it gets harder and harder for a man to raise his caste or earn some additional stock shares.”

      The applejack had worked enough on Mauser to bring out one of his pet peeves. He said, “That term, ‘the old-time way,’ is strictly telly talk, Max. We don’t do things the old-time way. No nation in history ever has—with the possible exception of Egypt.

      “Socio-economics are in a continual flux, and here in this country we no more do things in the way they did a hundred years ago than a hundred years ago they did them the way American Revolutionists outlined back in the 18th century.”

      Max was staring at him, completely out of his depth. “I don’t get that, sir.”

      Mauser said impatiently, “Max, the politico-economic system we have today is an outgrowth of what went earlier. The welfare state, the freezing of the status quo, the Frigid Fracas between the West-world and the Sov-world, industrial automation until useful employment is all but needless—all these things could be found in embryo more than a century ago.”

      “Well, maybe the captain’s right, but you gotta admit, sir, that we mostly do things the old way. We still got the Constitution and the two-party system and—”

      Joe was tiring of the conversation now. You seldom ran into anyone, even in the Middle caste—the traditionally professional class—interested enough in such subjects to be worth arguing with. He said, “The Constitution, Max, has reached the status of the Bible and other religious books. Interpret it the way you wish, and you can find anything. If not, you can always make a new amendment. That trend started in the middle of the 20th century, when the old U.S. Supreme Court took it upon itself to intervene in matters best settled by lower courts, or disputes that were already covered by existing laws. The idea of ‘equality’ got pushed to the limit, Max, and our ancestors tried to legislate equality among unequals. That is, they figured that if they said all people were equal, it would make it so. Didn’t work—just gave those who were at the bottom an excuse to stay there, while getting a free ride. And it paved the way for our current system.”

      Max started to interrupt, but Joe ignored him. “So far as the two-party system is concerned, what effect does it have when the Uppers are in control of both? What is the difference if two men stand for exactly the same thing? It’s a farce.”

      “A farce?” Max blurted, forgetting his servant status. “That means not so good, doesn’t it? Far as I’m concerned, election day is tops. The one day a СКАЧАТЬ