I was in authority and that settled the matter. The psychologist was very decent about it and helped me fix up a speech and that next night the workers were ordered to assemble in their halls and I made my speech into a transmitting horn. I told them that they had been especially honored by their Emperor, who, appreciating their valuable service, had granted them a part-time vacation and that until further notice their six-hour shifts were to be cut to four. I further told them that their rations would not be reduced and advised them to take enough extra exercise in the gymnasium to offset their shorter hours so they would not get fat and be the envy of their fellows.
III
For a time the workers seemed greatly pleased with their shorter hours. And then, from the Listening-in-Service, came the rumor of the strike. The first report of the strike gave me no clue to the grievance and I asked for fuller reports. When these came the next day I was shocked beyond belief. If I had anticipated anything in that interval of terror it was that my workers were to strike because their communications had been shut off or that they were to strike in sympathy for their fellows and demand that all hours be shortened like their own. But the grievance was not that. My men were to go on strike for the simple reason that their hours had been shortened!
The catastrophe once started came with a rush, for when I reached the office the next day the psychologist was awaiting me and told me that the strike was on. I rushed out immediately and went down to the works. The psychologist followed me. As I entered the great industrial laboratories I saw all the men at their usual places and going through their usual operations. I turned to my companion who was just coming up, and said: ‘What do you mean; I thought you told me the strike was on, that the men had already walked out?’
‘What do you mean by “walked out”?’ he returned, as puzzled as I.
‘Walked out of the works,’ I explained; ‘away from their duties, quit work. Struck!’
‘But they have struck. Perhaps you have never seen a strike before, but do you not see the strike badges?’
And then I looked and saw that every workman wore a tiny red flag, and the flag bore no imperial eagle.
‘It means,’ I gasped, ‘that they have renounced the rule of the Royal House. This is not a strike, this is rebellion, treason!’
‘It is the custom,’ said the labor psychologist, ‘and as for rebellion and treason that you speak of I hardly think you ought to call it that for rebellion and treason are forbidden.’
‘Then just what does it mean?’
‘It means that this particular group of workers have temporarily withdrawn their allegiance to the Royal House, and they have, in their own minds, restored the old socialist regime, until they can make petition to the Emperor and he passes on their grievance. They will do that in their halls tonight. We, of course, will be connected up and listen in.’
‘Then they are not really on strike?’
‘Certainly they are on strike. All strikes are conducted so.’
‘Then why do they not quit work?’
‘But why should they quit work? They are striking because their hours are already too short – pardon, Herr Chief, but I warned you!
‘I think I know what you mean,’ he added after a pause; ‘you have probably read some fiction of old times when the workers went on strike by quitting work.’
‘Yes, exactly. I suppose that is where I did get my ideas; and that is now forbidden – by the Emperor?’
‘Not by the Emperor, for you see these men wear the flags without the eagle. They at present do not acknowledge his authority.’
‘Then all this strike is a matter of red badges without eagles and everything else will go on as usual?’
‘By no means. These men are striking against the descending authority from the Royal House. They not only refuse to wear the eagle until their grievance is adjusted but they will refuse to accept further education, for that is a thing that descends from above. If you will go now to the picture halls, where the other shift should be, you will find the halls all empty. The men refuse to go to the moving pictures.’
That night we ‘listened in’. A bull-throated fellow, whom I learned was the Talking Delegate, addressed the Emperor, and much to my surprise I thought I heard the Emperor’s own voice in reply, stating that he was ready to hear their grievance.
Then the bull voice of the Talking Delegate gave the reason for the strike: ‘The Director of the Works, speaking for your Majesty, has granted us a part-time vacation, and shortened our hours from six to four. We thank you for this honor but we have decided we do not like it. We do not know what to do during those extra two hours. We had our games and amusements but we had our regular hours for them. If we play longer we become tired of play. If we sleep longer we cannot sleep as well. Moreover we are losing our appetite and some of us are afraid to eat all our portions for fear we will become fat. So we have decided that we do not like a four-hour day and we have therefore taken the eagles off our flags and will refuse to replace them or to go to the educational pictures until our hours are restored to the six-hour day that we have always had.’
And now the Emperor’s voice replied that he would take the matter under consideration and report his decision in three days and, that meanwhile he knew he could trust them to conduct themselves as good socialists who were on strike, and hence needed no king.
The next day the psychologist brought a representative of the Information Staff to my office and together we wrote the reply that the Emperor was to make. It would be necessary to concede them the full six hours and introduce the system of complicating the labor operations to make more work. Much chagrined, I gave in, and called in the motion study engineers and set them to the task. Meanwhile the Royal Voice was sent for and coached in the Emperor’s reply to the striking workmen, and a picture film of the Emperor, timed to fit the length of the speech, was ordered from stock.
The Royal Voice was an actor by birth who had been trained to imitate His Majesty’s speech. This man, who specialized in the Emperor’s speeches to the workers, prided himself that he was the best Royal Voice in Berlin and I complimented him by telling him that I had been deceived by him the evening before. But considering that the workers, never having heard the Emperor’s real voice, would have no standard of comparison, I have never been able to see the necessity of the accuracy of his imitation, unless it was on the ground of art for art’s sake.
The Divine Descendants of William the Great Give a Benefit for the Canine Gardens and Pay Tribute to the Piggeries
I
The strike that I had feared would be the beginning of a bloody revolution had ended with an actor shouting into a horn and the shadow of an Emperor waving his arms. But meanwhile Capt. Grauble, on whom I staked my hopes of escape from Berlin, had departed to the Arctic and would not return for many months. That he would return I firmly believed; statistically the chances were in his favor as this was his fourth trip, and hope was backing the favorable odds of the law of chance.
So I set myself to prepare for that event. My faith was strong that Grauble could be won over to the cause of saving the Germans by betraying Germany. I did not even consider searching for another man, for Grauble was that one rare man in thousands who is rebellious and fearless by nature, a type of which the world makes heroes when their cause wins and traitors when it fails – a type that Germany had all but eliminated from the breed of men.
But, if I were to escape to the outer world through Grauble’s connivance, there was still the problem of getting permission to board the submarine, ostensibly to go to the Arctic mines. Even in my exalted position as head of the protium works I could not learn where the submarine docks or the passage to them was located. But I did learn enough to know that the way was impenetrable without authoritative permission, and that thoughts of escape as a stowaway were not worth considering. I also learned that Admiral von Kufner had sole authority to grant permission to make the Arctic trip.
The Admiral had prompt
ly turned down my first proposal to go to the Arctic ore fields, and had by his pompous manner rebuffed the attempts I made to cultivate his friendship through official interviews. I therefore decided to call on Marguerite and the Countess Luise to see what chance there was to get a closer approach to the man through social avenues. The Countess was very obliging in the matter, but she warned me with lifted finger that the Admiral was a gay bachelor and a worshipper of feminine charms, and that I might rue the day I suggested his being invited into the admiring circle that revolved about Marguerite. But I laughingly disclaimed any fears on that score and von Kufner was bidden to the next ball given by the Countess.
Marguerite was particularly gracious to the Admiral and speedily led him into the inner circle that gathered informally in the salon of the Countess Luise. I made it a point to absent myself on some of these occasions, for I did not want the Admiral to guess the purpose that lay behind this ensnaring of him into our group.
And yet I saw much of Marguerite, for I spent most of my leisure in the society of the Royal Level, where thought, if shallow, was comparatively free. I took particular pleasure in watching the growth of Marguerite’s mind, as the purely intellectual conceptions she had acquired from Dr. Zimmern and his collection of books adjusted itself to the absurd realities of the celestial society of the descendants of William the Great.
It may be that charity is instinctive in the heart of a good woman, or perhaps it was because she had read the Christian Bible; but whatever the origin of the impulse, Marguerite was charitably inclined and wished to make personal sacrifice for the benefit of other beings less well situated than herself. While she was still a resident of the Free Level she had talked to me of this feeling and of her desire to help others. But the giving of money or valuables by one woman to another was strictly forbidden, and Marguerite had not at the time possessed more than she needed for her own subsistence. But now that she was relatively well off, this charitable feeling struggled to find expression. Hence when she had learned of the Royal Charity Society she had straightway begged the Countess to present her name for membership, without stopping to examine into the detail of the Society’s activities.
The Society was at that time preparing to hold a bazaar and sent out calls for contributions of cast off clothing and ornaments. Marguerite as yet possessed no clothes or jewelry of royal quality except the minimum which the demands of her position made necessary; and so she timidly asked the Countess if her clothing which she had worn on the Free Level would suffice as gifts of charity. The Countess had assured her that it would do nicely as the destination of all the clothing contributed was for the women of the Free Level. Thinking that an opportunity had at last arisen for her to express her compassion for the ill-favored girls of her own former level, Marguerite hastened to bundle up such presentable gowns as she had and sent them to the bazaar by her maid.
Later she had attended the meeting of the society when the net results of the collections were announced. To her dismay she found that the clothing contributed had been sold for the best price it would bring to the women of the Free Level and that the purpose of the sacrifices, of that which was useless to the possessors but valuable to others, was the defraying of the expense of extending the romping grounds for the dogs of the charitably maintained canine garden.
Marguerite was vigorously debating the philosophy of charity with the young Count Rudolph that evening when I called. She was maintaining that human beings and not animals should be the recipients of charity and the young Count was expounding to her the doctrine of the evil effects of charity upon the recipient.
‘Moreover,’ explained Count Rudolph, ‘there are no humans in Berlin that need charity, since every class of our efficiently organized State receives exactly what it should receive and hence is in need of nothing. Charity is permissible only when poverty exists.’
‘But there is poverty on the Free Level,’ maintained Marguerite; ‘many of the ill-favored girls suffer from hunger and want better clothes than they can buy.’
‘That may be,’ said the Count, ‘but to permit them gifts of charity would be destructive of their pride; moreover, there are few women on the Royal Level who would give for such a purpose.’
‘But surely,’ said Marguerite, ‘there must be somewhere in the city, other women or children or even men to whom the proceeds of these gifts would mean more than it does to dogs.’
‘If any group needed anything the state would provide it,’ repeated the Count. ‘Then why,’ protested Marguerite, ‘cannot the state provide also for the dogs, or if food and space be lacking why are these dogs allowed to breed and multiply?’
‘Because it would be cruel to suppress their instincts.’
Marguerite was puzzled by this answer, but with my more rational mind I saw a flaw in the logic of this statement. ‘But that is absurd,’ I said, ‘for if their number were not checked in some fashion, in a few decades the dogs would overswarm the city.’
It was now the Count’s turn to look puzzled. ‘You have inferred an embarrassing question,’ he stated, ‘one, in fact, that ought not to be answered in the presence of a lady, but since the Princess Marguerite does not seem to be a lover of dogs, I will risk the explanation. The Medical Level requires dogs for purposes of scientific research. Since the women are rarely good mathematicians, it is easily possible in this manner to keep down the population of the Canine Garden.’
‘But the dogs required for research,’ I suggested, ‘could easily be bred in kennels maintained for that purpose.’
‘So they could,’ said the Count, ‘but the present plan serves a double purpose. It provides the doctors with scalpel practice and it also amuses the women of the Royal House who are very much in need of amusement since we men are all so dull.’
‘Woman’s love,’ continued Rudolph, waxing eloquent, ‘should have full freedom for unfoldment. If it be forcibly confined to her husband and children it might burst its bounds and express too great an interest in other humans. The dogs act as a sort of safety valve for this instinct of charity.’
The facetious young Count saw from Marguerite’s horror-stricken face that he was making a marked impression and he recklessly continued: ‘The keepers at the Canine Gardens understand this perfectly. When funds begin to run low they put the dogs in the outside pens on short rations, and the brutes do their own begging; then we have another bazaar and everybody is happy. It is a good system and I would advise you not to criticize it since the institution is classic. Other schemes have been tried; at one time women were permitted to knit socks for soldiers – we always put that in historical pictures – but the socks had to be melted up again as felted fiber is much more durable; and then, after the women were forbidden to see the soldiers, they lost interest. But the dog charity is a proven institution and we should never try to change anything that women do not want changed since they are the conservative bulwark of society and our best protection against the danger of the untried.’
II
Blocked in her effort to relieve human poverty by the discovery that its existence was not recognized, Marguerite’s next adventure in doing good in the world was to take up the battle against ignorance by contributing to the School for the Education of Servants.
The Servant problem in Berlin, and particularly on the Royal Level, had been solved so far as male servants were concerned, for these were a well recognized strain eugenically bred as a division of the intellectual caste. I had once taken Dr. Zimmern to task on this classification of the servant as an intellectual.
‘The servant is not intellectual creatively,’ the Eugenist replied, ‘yet it would never do to class him as Labor since he produces nothing. Moreover, the servant’s mind reveals the most specialized development of the most highly prized of all German intellectual characteristics – obedience.
‘It might interest you to know,’ continued Zimmern, ‘that we use this servant strain in outcrossing with other strains when they show a tendency to decli
ne in the virtue of obedience. If I had not chosen to exempt you from paternity when your rebellious instincts were reported to me, and the matter had been turned over to our Remating Board they might have reassigned you to mothers of the servant class. This practice of outcrossing, though rare, is occasionally essential in all scientific breeding.’
‘Then do you mean,’ I asked in amazement, ‘that the highest intellectual strains have servant blood in them?’
‘Certainly. And why not, since obedience is the crowning glory of the German mind? Even Royal blood has a dash of the servant strain.’
‘You mean, I suppose, from illegitimate children?’
‘Not at all; that sort of illegitimacy is not recognized. I mean from the admission of servants into Royal Society, just as you have been admitted.’
‘Impossible!’
‘And why impossible, since obedience is our supreme racial virtue? Go consult your social register. The present Emperor, I believe, has admitted none, but his father admitted several and gave them princely incomes. They married well and their children are respected, though I understand they are not very much invited out for the reason that they are poor conversationalists. They only speak when spoken to and then answer, ‘Ja, Mein Herr.’ I hear they are very miserable; since no one commands them they must be very bored with life, as they are unable to think of anything to do to amuse themselves. In time the trait will be modified, of course, since the Royal blood will soon predominate, and the strongest inherent trait of royalty is to seek amusement.’
This specialized class of men servants needed little education, for, as I took more interest in observing after this talk with Zimmern, they were the most perfectly fitted to their function of any class in Berlin. But there was also a much more numerous class of women servants on the Royal Level. These, as a matter of economy, were not specially bred to the office, but were selected from the mothers who had been rejected for further maternity after the birth of one or two children. Be it said to the credit of the Germans that no women who had once borne a child was ever permitted to take up the profession of Delilah – a statement which unfortunately cannot be made of the rest of the world. These mothers together with those who had passed the childbearing age more than supplied the need for nurses on the maternity levels and teachers in girls’ schools.
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