_Chapter Six_
"I guess I owe you thanks," Alan said. "If they had hauled me off I'd bein real trouble."
Hawkes nodded. "They're very quick to lock people up when they don'thave work cards. But police salaries are notoriously low. A five-creditbill slipped to the right man at the right time can work wonders."
"Five credits, was it? Here----"
Alan started to fumble in his pocket, but Hawkes checked him with a waveof his hand. "Never mind. I'll write it off to profit and loss. What'syour name, spacer, and what brings you to York City?"
"I'm Alan Donnell, of the starship _Valhalla_. I'm an UnspecializedCrewman. I came over from the Enclave to look for my brother."
Hawkes' lean face assumed an expression of deep interest. "He's astarman too?"
"He--was."
"Was?"
"He jumped ship last time we were here. That was nine years agoEarthtime. I'd like to find him, though. Even though he's so much oldernow."
"How old is he now?"
"Twenty-six. I'm seventeen. We used to be twins, you see. But theContraction--you understand about the Contraction, don't you?"
Hawkes nodded thoughtfully, eyes half-closed. "Mmm--yes, I follow you.While you made your last space jump he grew old on Earth. And you wantto find him and put him back on your ship, is that it?"
"That's right. Or at least talk to him and find out if he's all rightwhere he is. But I don't know where to start looking. This city is sobig--and there are so many other cities all over Earth----"
Hawkes shook his head. "You've come to the right one. The CentralDirectory Matrix is here. You'll be able to find out where he'sregistered by the code number on his work card. Unless," Hawkes saidspeculatively, "he doesn't have a work card. Then you're in trouble."
"Isn't everyone supposed to have a work card?"
"I don't," Hawkes said.
"But----"
"You need a work card to hold a job. But to get a job, you have to passguild exams. And in order to take the exams you have to find a sponsorwho's already in the guild. But you have to post bond for your sponsor,too--five thousand credits. And unless you have the work card and havebeen working, you don't have the five thousand, so you can't post bondand get a work card. See? Round and round."
Alan's head swam. "Is that what they meant when they said I wasunrotational?"
"No, that's something else. I'll get to that in a second. But you seethe work setup? The guilds are virtually hereditary, even the fruitvenders' guild. It's next to impossible for a newcomer to crack into aguild--and it's pretty tough for a man in one guild to move up a notch.You see, Earth's a terribly overcrowded planet--and the only way toavoid cutthroat job competition is to make sure it's tough to get a job.It's rough on a starman trying to bull his way into the system."
"You mean Steve may not have gotten a work card? In that case how will Ibe able to find him?"
"It's harder," Hawkes said. "But there's also a registry of Free Statusmen--men without cards. He isn't required to register there, but if hedid you'd be able to track him down eventually. If he didn't, I'm afraidyou're out of luck. You just can't find a man on Earth if he doesn'twant to be found."
"Free Status? Isn't that what the policeman said----"
"I was in?" Hawkes nodded. "Sure, I'm Free Status. Out of choice,though, not necessity. But that doesn't matter much right now. Let's goover to the Central Directory Matrix Building and see if we can find anytrail for your brother."
They rose. Alan saw that Hawkes was tall, like himself; he walked witheasygoing grace. Questioningly Alan twitched his shoulder-blade in asignal that meant, _What do you think of this guy, Rat?_
_Stick with him_, Rat signalled back. _He sounds okay._
The streets seemed a great deal less terrifying now that Alan had acompanion, someone who knew his way around. He didn't have the feelingthat all eyes were on him, any more; he was just one of the crowd. Itwas good to have Hawkes at his side, even if he didn't fully trust theolder man.
"The Directory Building's way across town," Hawkes said. "We can't walkit. Undertube or Overshoot?"
"What?"
"I said, do you want to take the Undertube or the Overshoot? Or doesn'tit matter to you what kind of transportation we take?"
Alan shrugged. "One's as good as any other."
Hawkes fished a coin out of his pocket and tossed it up. "Heads forOvershoot," he said, and caught the coin on the back of his left hand.He peered at it. "Heads it is. We take the Overshoot. This way."
They ducked into the lobby of the nearest building and took the elevatorto the top floor. Hawkes stopped a man in a blue uniform and said,"Where's the nearest Shoot pickup?"
"Take the North Corridor bridge across to the next building. Thepickup's there."
"Right."
Hawkes led the way down the corridor, up a staircase, and through adoor. With sudden alarm Alan found himself on one of the bridges linkingthe skyscrapers. The bridge was no more than a ribbon of plastic withhandholds at each side; it swayed gently in the breeze.
"You better not look down," Hawkes said. "It's fifty stories to thebottom."
Alan kept his eyes stiffly forward. There was a good-sized crowdgathered on the top of the adjoining building, and he saw a metalplatform of some kind.
A vender came up to them. Alan thought he might be selling tickets, butinstead he held forth a tray of soft drinks. Hawkes bought one; Alanstarted to say he didn't want one when he felt a sharp kick in hisankle, and he hurriedly changed his mind and produced a coin.
When the vender was gone, Hawkes said, "Remind me to explain rotation toyou when we get aboard the Shoot. And here it comes now."
Alan turned and saw a silvery torpedo come whistling through the air andsettle in the landing-rack of the platform; it looked like a jet-poweredvessel of some kind. A line formed, and Hawkes stuffed a ticket intoAlan's hand.
"I have a month's supply of them," he explained. "It's cheaper thatway."
They found a pair of seats together and strapped themselves in. With aroar and a hiss the Overshoot blasted away from the landing platform,and almost immediately came to rest on another building some distanceaway.
"We've just travelled about half a mile," Hawkes said. "This ship reallymoves."
A jet-propelled omnibus that travelled over the roofs of the buildings,Alan thought. Clever. He said, "Isn't there any public surfacetransportation in the city?"
"Nope. It was all banned about fifty years ago, on account of thecongestion. Taxis and everything. You can still use a private car insome parts of the city, of course, but the only people who own them arethose who like to impress their neighbors. Most of us take the Undertubeor the Overshoot to get around."
The Shoot blasted off from its third stop and picked up passengers atits fourth. Alan glanced up front and saw the pilot peering over anelaborate radar setup.
"Westbound Shoots travel a hundred feet over the roof-tops, eastboundones two hundred. There hasn't been a major accident in years. But aboutthis rotation--that's part of our new economic plan."
"Which is?"
"_Keep the money moving!_ Saving's discouraged. Spending's the thingnow. The guilds are really pushing it. Instead of buying one piece offruit from a vender, buy two. Spend, spend, spend! It's a little toughon the people in Free Status--we don't offer anything for sale, so wedon't benefit much--but we don't amount to one per cent of thepopulation, so who cares about us?"
"You mean it's sort of subversive not to spend money, is that it?" Alanasked.
Hawkes nodded. "You get in trouble if you're too openly penny-pinching.Keep the credits flowing; that's the way to be popular around here."
That had been his original mistake, Alan thought. He saw he had a lot tolearn about this strange, unfriendly world if he were going to stay herelong. He wondered if anyone had missed him back at the Enclave, yet.Maybe it won't take too long to find Steve, he thought. I should haveleft a note for Dad explaining I'd be back. But----
&nb
sp; "Here we are," Hawkes said, nudging him. The door in the Overshoot'sside opened and they got out quickly. They were on another rooftop.
Ten minutes later they stood outside an immense building whose wallswere sleek slabs of green pellucite, shining with a radiant inner warmthof their own. The building must have been a hundred stories high, ormore. It terminated in a burnished spire.
"This is it," Hawkes said. "The Central Directory Building. We'll trythe Standard Matrix first."
A little dizzy, Alan followed without discussing the matter. Hawkes ledhim through a vast lobby big enough to hide the _Valhalla_ in, pastthrongs of Earthers, into a huge hall lined on all sides by computerbanks.
"Let's take this booth here," Hawkes suggested. They stepped into it;the door clicked shut automatically behind them. There was a row ofblank forms in a metal rack against the inside of the door.
Hawkes pulled one out. Alan looked at it. It said, CENTRAL DIRECTORYMATRIX INFORMATION REQUISITION 1067432. STANDARD SERIES.
Hawkes took a pen from the rack. "We have to fill this out. What's yourbrother's full name?"
"Steve Donnell." He spelled it.
"Year of birth?"
Alan paused. "3576," he said finally.
Hawkes frowned, but wrote it down that way.
"Work card number--well, we don't know that. And they want five or sixother numbers too. We'll just have to skip them. Better give me a fullphysical description as of the last time you saw him."
Alan thought a moment. "He looked pretty much like me. Height 73 inches,weight 172 or so, reddish-blonde hair, and so on."
"Don't you have a gene-record?"
Blankly, Alan said, "A what?"
Hawkes scowled. "I forgot--I keep forgetting you're a spacer. Well, ifhe's not using his own name any more it may make things really tough.Gene-records make absolute identification possible. But if you don'thave one----"
Whistling tunelessly, Hawkes filled out the rest of the form. When itcame to REASON FOR APPLICATION, he wrote in, _Tracing of missingrelative_.
"That just about covers it," he said finally. "It's a pretty lameapplication, but if we're lucky we may find him." He rolled the form up,shoved it into a gray metal tube, and dropped it in a slot in the wall.
"What happens now?" Alan asked.
"Now we wait. The application goes downstairs and the big computer goesto work on it. First thing they'll do is kick aside all the cards of mennamed Steve Donnell. Then they'll check them all against the physicaldescription I supplied. Soon as they find a man who fits the bill,they'll 'stat his card and send it up here to us. We copy down thetelevector number and have them trace him down."
"The _what_ number?"
"You'll see," Hawkes said, grinning. "It's a good system. Just wait."
They waited. One minute, two, three.
"I hope I'm not keeping you from something important," Alan said,breaking a long uncomfortable silence. "It's really good of you to takeall this time, but I wouldn't want to inconvenience you if----"
"If I didn't want to help you," Hawkes said sharply, "I wouldn't bedoing it. I'm Free Status, you know. That means I don't have any bossexcept me. Max Hawkes, Esquire. It's one of the few compensations I havefor the otherwise lousy deal life handed me. So if I choose to waste anhour or two helping you find your brother, don't worry yourself aboutit."
A bell rang, once, and a gentle red light glowed over the slot. Hawkesreached in and scooped out the container that sat there.
Inside he found a rolled-up slip of paper. He pulled it out and read themessage typed on it several times, pursing his lips.
"Well? Did they find him?"
"Read it for yourself," Hawkes said. He pushed the sheet over to Alan.
It said, in crisp capital letters, A SEARCH OF THE FILES REVEALS THATNO WORK CARD HAS BEEN ISSUED ON EARTH IN THE PAST TEN YEARS TO STEVEDONNELL, MALE, WITH THE REQUIRED PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.
Alan's face fell. He tossed the slip to the table and said, "Well? Whatdo we do now?"
"Now," Hawkes said, "we go upstairs to the cubbyhole where they keep theFree Status people registered. We go through the same business there. Ididn't really expect to find your brother here, but it was worth a look.It's next to impossible for a ship-jumping starman to buy his way into aguild and get a work card."
"Suppose he's not registered with the Free Status people?"
Hawkes smiled patiently. "Then, my dear friend, you go back to your shipwith your mission incomplete. If he's not listed upstairs, there's noway on Earth you could possibly find him."
Starman's Quest Page 7
