Now I remembered: Roulette had mentioned this alternative, and I approved it. In the rush and stress of events, it had entirely slipped my mind.
I pondered. I thought of being confined alone in space myself, and knew I would shortly go mad. Only the promise of restoration of human company would sustain me. Even the least social of criminals would feel that lack to some extent. Yes, the criminal would perform!
"Maybe so," I agreed. "It does avoid the brutal alternatives of killing or letting criminals back into society, and it does seem to be a way to get personnel for inclement assignments. I'm glad these intra-cabinet consultations are working out so well."
"They are working," Phist agreed. "But these are the halcyon days of creation; implementation may be another matter. There is apt to be a massive reckoning when the tide touches the public."
"I assumed this post to do a job, and I mean to do it," I said. "The people should understand, when the new order emerges. It is for their own good."
He smiled warily. "Do you remember my fortune in the Navy?"
I realized he was not referring to his recent rise to the heights. "As—a whistleblower?"
"The same. It was my job to procure equipment for the Navy as economically as possible, for a given standard of performance and quality. I discovered that we had been paying a hundred thousand dollars for a hundred and ten dollars worth of spare parts. We were being charged $9,606 for wrenches that could be had for twelve cents on the civilian market. Antenna motor pins worth about two and a half cents were going for over two thousand dollars. Thirteen-cent nuts for two thousand dollars; sixty-seven-cent bolts for one thousand—"
"Now wait!" I protested. "How can a thirteen-cent nut go for twice as much as a sixty-seven-cent bolt? I mean—"
"I refer you to the ancient saying: The Navy moves in mysterious ways, its blunders to perform."
I smiled. "I remember."
"Naturally I put a stop to such purchases and instituted an investigation. And—"
"You were fired," I finished. "Or put on Navy hold. Same thing. That was why I, as an upstart young officer, was able to leapfrog you on promotion and eventually add you to my command."
"Where you gave my talent for effective procurement free rein and protected me from the backlash and did my career more good than ever would have been the case otherwise," he said warmly. "All this in addition to your sister."
"You were worthy of Spirit," I said honestly. "She would gladly have stayed with you, if that had been possible. Just as I would have stayed with Rue."
We were silent for a moment, remembering our past loves.
"My point," Phist resumed in due course, "is that virtue is not always rewarded. You may install the best of all possible governments, but you will not necessarily be hailed for your achievement."
"I am already in the process of discovering that," I said, emulating one of Thorley's rueful smiles. "Still, it will be worth doing. I swore when I was fifteen to extirpate piracy from the face of the System. I found as I proceeded that there was always a higher source of the corruption. Now I am in a position to complete my vow—and to fulfill the other one I took: to put Jupiter's financial base in order. Success will be its own reward."
"If success comes," he agreed with the caution of experience, "I have a rather challenging program."
"Implement it," I told him.
"Don't authorize it until you know its nature," he warned. "I feel it may well be an exercise in futility to attempt to regulate anything as massive and fragmented as Jupiter industry. Over the centuries the government has not been able to get an accurate accounting from any of the large iron companies, let alone effectively police their operations, and I see only one way to achieve any of that now."
I knew about the iron companies. They had grown rich and powerful in fair times and foul, because they controlled the single most vital substance in the System: the magnetic-power metal, iron. Without it our mechanized civilization would grind to a halt. The metal was intrinsically inexpensive, but somehow its value magnified by the time it reached the black-hole labs for conversion to contra-terrene iron. The same magnets could handle CT iron, moving it without physical contact with any terrene matter, until the time came for its merging with normal iron and total conversion to energy. There was our literal power base: iron. Of course, the key was in its conversion to CT, which was accomplished by the enormous concentration of gravitrons by very special gee-shields. Those artificial black holes could convert any matter to antimatter—this was a fairly straightforward operation, so long as the change was to the same type of substance, which is to say tin to tin or iron to iron—but not just any matter could be handled magnetically. So far, all things considered, nothing better had been found than iron. "So how do you propose to make the iron companies behave?"
"Nationalization," he said seriously.
I sighed. "Saturn nationalized everything, and look what they have: the System's most monstrously inefficient industry! With the most massive farm bubbles extant, they still can't feed their own population and have to purchase grain from us. Apart from their military machine, they are a second-rate industrial power. I can't see any particular promise in that route."
"It is not nationalization that is at fault but deprivation of individual incentive," he reminded me. "I mean to keep incentive. What I propose to do is nationalize at least one major company in each key aspect of industry and revitalize that company so that it can become truly competitive. This will accomplish two things: first, it will give the government, for the first time, an avenue to ascertaining the true nature of the businesses, from which we can extrapolate an honest tax base for Senator Stonebridge to implement; second, it will enable us to enter the market competitively, forcing restraint in pricing by example."
"How can we control prices by example?" I asked. "We can control the prices of the companies we operate but not those of the ones we don't."
"If the others raise their prices in an unjustified manner, ours will gain a larger share of the market," he explained. "For centuries the Big Iron has colluded to increase the price of crude ore, overcharging clients and cheating the government unmercifully; but our iron company would not cooperate. It will represent a gap in the dyke. No consumer company is going to pay more than it needs to for iron, and we shall offer a fair price—and the lowest price, if need be. This is the essence of free enterprise; we shall bring it to iron at last—without any direct governmental coercion. Prices will drop across the board, I am certain." He actually rubbed his hands together.
I liked the notion. "Which companies do you have in mind for nationalization?"
"The Planetary Iron Company," he said.
"Planico? I thought that was the one large iron company in trouble!"
"True. With annual revenues in the billions, they managed their affairs so disastrously that they were the subject of an attempted takeover by a competitor. Their reserves are as good as any, but their present management is so wrongheaded as to be laughable."
"Surely it would be better to take over a sound company!"
"No. Two reasons. First, we can acquire Planico relatively cheaply, merely by buying up a bare majority of their stock at the present devalued rate; no one will even realize we're doing it, until it is done, if we handle it correctly. It really will be best not to disturb the economy by drastic overt takeovers; the senator satisfied me on that score. Second, we can make our point better by turning an ailing company into a healthy one than by keeping a healthy one healthy. If our management is good, we'll wind up with the best-run company on the planet, regardless."
The notion appealed as it came clear to me. "Selective nationalization," I repeated. "Of ailing companies in various sectors of the economy. I wonder if this will help provide jobs for the unemployed."
"No. We'll be firing inefficient employees. There will have to be a planetary work program for Employment of Last Resort. That will be expensive."
"But if the work program trained pe
ople to fill the jobs in the nationalized companies?"
"Then we could hire them. Of course, if they're really qualified, they could be hired by the private companies too."
"Maybe there could be training branches of the nationalized companies, so that we could slowly convert the unemployed to employable—"
"That could do," he agreed.
If the poor had protested the seeming raising of taxes, while the rich had been silent, the nationalization of key companies reversed that reaction. The billionaire scions of industry were virtually unanimous in their outrage, while the unemployed folk flocked eagerly to apply for jobs in the nationalized companies. Evidently they regarded this as much preferable to the make-work employment the government would otherwise provide. A lot of hiring was done, but this saved the government no money. It merely changed the pocket from which the money leaked.
The hiring of the poor was counterbalanced by the flight of the highly trained technical personnel. The majority of them seemed to regard working for a government-owned company as anathema. Perhaps the standardized wage scales had something to do with it. Our scales were not actually inferior to those of private enterprise, but there were no perks—no unofficial benefits that avoided the tax rolls. Also, though private industry was by law equal opportunity for all races and ages and both sexes, somehow that did not manifest perfectly in practice, while the government companies truly did operate by merit alone. That seemed to upset many qualified workers.
The next time Shelia handed me the chip, she pursed her lips in a silent whistle. Evidently she was enjoying this in a certain voyeuristic way. Well, she had a right to.
My instruction had had dramatic effect. Now all three major channels were in use, and the detail was much improved. The action was unchanged up to the point of the kiss.
I took her in my arms, as before, and brought my lips to hers. This time she did kiss back, passionately, her lips parting for my tongue. Her body pressed in close to mine, and I felt her breasts nudging me. When my hand slipped down to her buttock, her buttock twitched in acknowledgment.
Well, now. Obviously she had understood my words and taken pains to master the helmet. The seduction that had been lacking before was now present; she evidently wanted my hands on her body.
I experimented. After the kiss I looked at her Helse-face—and that face still stirred me deeply, though I knew it wasn't her—and asked in English, "Will you remove your cloak?"
She had anticipated this. She shimmered, and the cloak was gone. Evidently she liked the magical effect I had demonstrated with the appearing and disappearing helmet. Feelies are fantasy worlds; anything can happen in them. That is much of their appeal.
Underneath she wore only a red bra and panties. Her hair descended to her shoulders in the manner that Helse's had at the end. Her body was voluptuous; it had evidently been crafted from the contemplation of holos of lush starlets. There were nuances about it that satisfied me that it was not her own; the natural body signals were absent. Still, my curiosity led me to experiment further.
I reached out and touched her full bra. She did not shrink away. Instead the bra dissolved, leaving her bosom bare. But her breasts did not sag, as masses of that magnitude should; they remained supported. I had suspected as much.
I touched her panties. They, too, dissolved, showing her genital region—quite innocent of pubic hair, in the manner of holo starlets but not of real women.
I paused again. It was evident that this woman was willing to go as far as I might wish, in the holo. Indeed, I understand that in some circles this is the preferred mode of lovemaking, as the protagonists remain technically uninvolved, true to their spouses or whatever. A spouse who might be quite jealous of his partner's physical affair with another individual might accept the holo version with equanimity and even participate in it, Physical purity was evidently more important than emotional purity. Perhaps it was ever thus; what man was ever really certain of what passed through the mind of his woman? The feelies merely made it more evident.
However, this was not the real woman. Her face was that of Helse, her body that of some holo representation. Even in imagination I preferred more reality than this.
So I stood back. "We must talk," I said.
"Talk," she said hesitantly.
So she had anticipated this too. Good enough. "What we do here in the helmets, on this chip, has no legal force in the real world. It is only a shared fantasy. But even so, I prefer greater realism than we have here. I'll let you keep that face, for I understand your desire for anonymity, even though I myself am not anonymous. But the body—that isn't natural. Is there anything wrong with your own body?"
"My body... is not... this good," she said hesitantly. Her voice had a peculiar quality, as if she were having trouble registering it for the recording. All she needed to do was to speak aloud and the helmet would pick up the essential impulses; evidently she was trying to do it entirely by imagination, and that's tricky.
"Well, enhance it a little," I said. "But start with your own, as it is, so that your flesh responds naturally when you move it."
She did not respond; she had not anticipated this answer, so had not programmed for it. Still, we had made considerable progress.
"Hitherto," Mondy said, "certain insiders have had their hands on the levers of economic power. We must now assume control of those levers."
"Isn't that paranoid?" I asked. "Blaming the problems of society on mysterious, anonymous culprits?"
"It is paranoid," he agreed. "But also true. These few people have always played the economy like a game, constantly milking it for their own benefit. The only barriers to their complete success are the unpredictable vagaries of chance and their inability to unite for their common advantage."
"Just what do you propose to do with these people? If they aren't criminals—"
"Recruit them," he said. "They will in the future work for us instead of for themselves. This will have an enormous impact on the economy."
"But surely they won't simply cooperate!" I protested.
"They will if they understand that the alternative is extinction."
"But—"
"Tyrant, what kind of a game do you think we're in? These are not marbles we're playing with, and these people are not schoolchildren. We need them, and we won't get them unless we talk their language. They are sensible; when they see that we have the will and the power to eliminate them, they will elect to cooperate. We simply have to do what is necessary, at the outset. Otherwise the Tyrancy will be a joke."
He had spoken magic words. Reluctantly I gave him the go-ahead.
"The key is Machiavelli," he concluded. "The infamous Italian schemer. It is safer to be feared than loved."
"I'd rather be loved," I said, and it was not really a joke.
"Be loved by the common, ignorant people. Appearance is more important to them than substance. You must seem to possess the classic virtues of mercy, faith, integrity, humanity, and religion. Then they will be satisfied."
"I do have these things!" I exclaimed.
"Of course, Tyrant. Just don't take them too seriously."
I left him, disquieted. I trusted his judgment but not his cynicism.
Ebony shook her head. "It's not just Jupiter," she said. "Overpopulation is threatening to overwhelm the whole System. Earth itself has more people now than it did before the diaspora to the System. We don't have to worry about System War Three; our own numbers will do us in in another generation regardless."
"But we can't do anything about the population of other planets," I said.
"Tyrant, we have to! Every day thousands more cross over from RedSpot and from Callisto—"
"I'm an immigrant from Callisto," I reminded her.
"And if they had proper government there, you wouldn't have had to do it," she retorted, unfazed. "Your folks would have been okay and you'd have been happy. It all starts with population control, so nobody gets squeezed out."
"Could be," I a
greed, impressed. It was not exactly the way I saw it, but she did have a case that could be argued.
"But how do you propose to solve the population problems of other planets?"
"Same way as here. Start with contraception—put your Navy medicine in the civilian water, or the food, or the air, so no more children for a couple years. Then ease up selectively; give the neutralizer to only those families who are good prospects for good, healthy children."
"But no one would agree to that," I cried, half appalled, half intrigued.
"Who said they had to? Just do it. You're the Tyrant."
"There'd be a revolution!"
"Not while you control the Navy. They'd settle down soon enough."
"I never realized you were so cynical, Ebony."
"I wasn't—till I studied the problem. Then I saw what had to be done. We've got to control our population or it will destroy us; it's that simple."
"But other planets—"
"The countries of Latin Jupiter will do it if you make them a bargain. Carrot and stick—give them money, give them food—tell 'em why. They'll do it, and it won't take much pushing. They're hurting a lot worse than we are."
"I don't know," I said. "It's such an ugly policy."
"Would you rather line 'em up and laser 'em down? We can pass out euthanasia pills—effective, painless, work in a few hours if no antidote taken—but we really need to get it at the other end, the birthrate. We can impose the death penalty for every little crime, but it's better if the criminal is never born."
"But it's a fundamental right to reproduce!"
"Is it? Does every individual have the unlimited right to make babies, whether or not he can care for them? If he can't take care of them, does the government have to do it for him? Or should they just be allowed to starve? In some places they have forcible abortion, sterilization, and they kill girl babies. They also murder the old folk and the ill folk. You want that?"
"No!" I said. "But we need to take time to consider—"
"Tyrant, we're out of time. The problem is now. We can't wait for the people to get around to doing something about it; they never will. If we don't act now, population will wipe us out all too soon." She stared into my face. "Tyrant, we've got to act now, while it can still be halfway gentle. You know that."
Anthony, Piers - Tyrant 4 - Executive Page 18
