Interesting figure of speech. "Would the Tyrant really get involved?" I asked. "This seems to be focusing on the mayor."
"The Tyrant would do anything," she said darkly. "The mayor couldn't stay in power a moment if the Tyrant didn't back him."
I pondered that as the mayhem increased. It was no longer feasible to retreat; the throng was surging angrily forward, growing as it came. We remained huddled in an alcove. I, in my guise as Tyrant, had not favored the Mayor of Cago, though he was of my party; I regarded him as a regressionary force and perhaps a racist. But his power was solidly entrenched, and I had had plenty of problems to keep me busy without seeking new ones. Thus Cago had been relatively untouched by the Tyrancy; its local political machine remained intact. Only Tyrancy programs like population control affected the natives here directly. It was a program the mayor supported, however, so evidently he had become the symbol of its implementation here. The Tyrant was a more distant figure, therefore less objectionable. An interesting perspective.
But now, as I observed the viciousness with which the police of Cago pitched in to the fray, it occurred to me that the population measure might be only an incidental symbol of a greater grudge. I had known that the mayor kept a tight rein on his domain, running the city mainly to please himself. Apparently direct force was the principal component of this control. Those lasers were dangerous, even if set at nonlethal intensity.
A beam seared into the wall above my head, gouging a channel. Nonlethal? That was kill-focus!
The incident had become a pitched battle. The broad hall was now jammed with people, most of them plowing determinedly forward. There were bodies on the floor, but far too many living people for a few police with lasers to stop. The throng surged on, overrunning the police, and I heard the cursing and thudding as fists and feet pounded the downed men. This crowd was now more than angry, it was vicious!
Then they were crowding into the office complex, whence new screams sounded. "They're raiding the mayor's staff!" I exclaimed.
"We hate the mayor and all he stands for," the woman said. "It's a den of thieves."
Evidently so! Now the throng in the hall was thinning as it drained into the office complex, and we were able to stand. "This isn't over," the woman said darkly. "I never meant to get involved in violence. I'm going home."
"And I'm going back to the airport," I agreed. "Nice meeting you, Miss—"
"Mrs.," she said. "Culver. My husband didn't want me to get involved in the demonstration; now I know why!" She glanced at my good clothing. "And you are—?"
"Jose Garcia," I said, expecting her to forget the name as soon as she heard it.
I was disappointed. "Garcia!" she exclaimed. "The Garcia?"
"Uh, I don't know how many there are—"
"Jup Bub? The good employer?"
"Yes, I am with—"
"Oh, you must come and meet my husband!" she said. "He's always admired your style."
"I'm just trying to run the company properly," I protested. But she was hauling me on, and it seemed easiest to follow. At least it would get us clear of this region of riot.
As we reached her cell the news was being broadcast: A mob had taken over the mayor's office and was holding him and his staff hostage for city reforms, starting with the Pop-Null program. That was wrongheaded, I knew, but how was one to reason with a mob?
Mr. Culver was indeed happy to make my acquaintance. It seemed that I had become something of a hero to the working class in the year I had been running Jupiter Bubble. I had not realized this and was flattered. It had been some time since my days as a rising Hispanic politician, honored by the masses, and I enjoyed the return of this role. In the persona of Jose Garcia I had returned to the essence of Hope Hubris.
But events proceeded inexorably onward. The mayor had sent out a distress call, and it seemed that the Tyrant was indeed answering. I was sure it was Spirit at the helm, operating in my name as always. But I discovered that firm action did not appear the same from the worm's-eye view I now had, as it did from above.
Because the mob had threatened to murder the mayor and his staff if any attempt were made to rescue him, and because it had the power and evident incentive to do it, the Tyrancy acted indirectly. A valve was opened in the hull of the city-bubble, and the Jupiter atmosphere started leaking in. It would take some time for the pressure to rise significantly, but there was horror the moment this was announced. The pressure of the external atmosphere was a terror, and any break in the integrity of the hull was alarming. The valve was filtered, so that no actual poisons entered, but still, the threat was potent.
"The valve will be closed when the mayor of Cago and his staff are released unharmed and the offices vacated without vandalism," the Navy officer in charge of this proceeding announced on the city-address system.
"I knew there'd be the Tyrant to pay!" Mrs. Culver wailed. "He stands behind his own."
This bothered me. Of course, the Tyrancy had to support the mayor, but this was nothing personal. Privately I would have preferred to be rid of the mayor. I disliked being in the position of brutalizing an entire city to save this brutal mayor's hide. But what could I say?
"This has gone too far," Mr. Culver said. "That mob will never give over—and neither will the Tyrant. We'll all pay for this foolishness—and for what? For opposition to a policy we know in our hearts is necessary."
I was getting to like this man.
His wife was subdued. "You're right, of course. There's nothing I want so much as having our baby, but riot and murder isn't the way! We've got to get out of this somehow."
Easier said than done. Hard on the news of the valve came the news of the city's reaction. Angry workers attempted to storm the valve—and were mowed down by the disciplined lasers of the Navy troops. There was no bluffing here; they were shooting to kill. After fifteen were dead the attack abated, but the city as a whole was twice as fearful and angry. I was wincing at all of it; this was being seriously mishandled. No further deaths had been necessary, and it was doubly unfortunate that they were occurring in the name of the Tyrancy. But what could I do from this vantage?
"Maybe a negotiator," I suggested. "Someone that both parties would listen to, who could work for a compromise. If you contact the Arbiters Guild—"
"Those deals are fixed," Mr. Culver said flatly. "We've been screwed before."
Oh? That would be something for the Tyrancy to look into! "Well, some public figure, perhaps, who—"
"Like the president of Jup Bub!" he finished, though that had not been my notion. "You'll do it, won't you, sir? You understand the needs of the working man, and you rank high enough, so maybe the Tyrant would listen to you!"
"I, uh..." I said, for the moment overwhelmed by this development.
The woman took my hand. "You will, won't you, Mr. Garcia?" she beseeched.
What choice was there? I did, in a guise they didn't know of, have a certain responsibility in this matter, and I probably could do something, both because of my talent with people and because my sister Spirit would surely recognize me. "It is difficult to deny a beautiful woman," I said.
She flung her arms around me and kissed me. I suppose no matter how many women a man knows, that particular type of thrill never abates.
Thus I found myself approaching the mayor's office, where he was being held hostage. The mob leaders were glad to see me, now that they were aware of my identity and mission. I sensed immediately that they had gotten themselves into more than they cared for but were riding the tiger and couldn't get off.
"Give me an open public line to the Tyrant," I said. "I will try to achieve a compromise settlement."
The mob leaders acquiesced. Jose Garcia was indeed a man they respected, as the Tyrant was not. Of course, they had little to lose; if I could not strike a fair bargain, I could become their hostage too.
The mayor's screen illuminated, and in a moment the White Bubble was on the line. The mayor's secretary had been released for this d
uty; the mayor remained bound and looked somewhat the worse for wear.
"I am Jose Garcia, of Jupiter Bubble," I said. "May I speak to the Tyrant, please?"
The secretary at the other end kept a straight face. Of course, the average citizen could not call in and be put right through to the Tyrant! "One moment, sir; I will put his secretary on."
Shelia appeared. She, too, kept a straight face, but I knew she recognized me. "I am Jose Garcia," I repeated. "I have been selected to negotiate for the City of Cago, and if I could perhaps talk to the Tyrant—"
"The Tyrant is not available at the moment," Shelia said smoothly. "But if you will describe your business further, Mr. Garcia, I will try to determine whether a direct interview is warranted."
Of course, the Tyrant was unavailable! But I had a role to play. "Señora, this is important. Twenty people have died, the mayor is held hostage, and the city is under siege by order of the Tyrant. I must talk to him directly!"
"Hey, don't push your luck," one of the mob leaders whispered to me. "You aggravate the Tyrant, he'll send a ship to blast us all out of the atmosphere!"
What kind of a reputation did I have? But Shelia was responding: "We are aware of the situation in Cago, Mr. Garcia. We did not know that you were there, but if you are in a position to negotiate, I can relay your statement to the Tyrant."
I became visibly excited. "People are dying here!" I repeated. "The mayor and his staff are hostage, and they will be killed if something is not done. If the Tyrant cares at all for the common man, as I do..."
Shelia didn't respond immediately, taking stock. "Let me check," she said. She spoke inaudibly into her intercom. Then: "The Tyrant is tied up in a meeting he cannot leave at the moment, but he is cognizant of the situation in Cago and will negotiate privately through me, if it can be kept brief. Will your party accede to that, Mr. Garcia?"
I turned to the mob leaders. "This is the Tyrant's personal secretary," I said. "I believe she knows almost everything the Tyrant knows, and she has his ear at the moment. I think we can trust what she says. Is it satisfactory to deal through her?"
The mob leaders exchanged glances. "We care only about results," one said, and the others agreed. "If she can deliver—"
"The trouble started because of the Pop-Null program," I said to Shelia. "The women here want their babies."
"If they get their babies," she replied, "then every other woman on the planet will want hers, and all the ills of overpopulation will return. The Tyrant will not relent on that."
Indeed he would not! But there were avenues for compromise. "We know that babies will have to return, or the species will end," I said. "Can the schedule for return be established, so that at least our women know with what they are dealing? As I recall, the women supported the Tyrant when he sought power, and some reciprocal gesture now—"
Shelia consulted with her other party, whom I suspected was Spirit. The schedule for the return of babies had already been set but not announced, pending the appropriate time to announce it. This seemed to be that time.
"The Tyrant agrees that in one year, pending good behavior, permits matching the death rate will be issued in Cago. In two years that will be extended to the nation as a whole."
I heard an intake of breath. Suddenly there was news of the schedule of the restoration of births! Surely the women of Cago would eagerly accept that. We had planned to start it in certain major cities, then expand a year later. But I pushed for more. "There have been deaths here, because of the overreaction of the mayor's police and the murders at the valve. Those police must be put on trial and restoration made." I saw the mob members tense; I had already gotten them much of what they wanted, and they were concerned that I was pushing too far.
"The Tyrant will grant permits for births to match the number of deaths resulting from this crisis," Shelia replied. "An investigation will be made into the incident and appropriate action taken. That is as far as the Tyrant will go."
I knew the mob leaders would accept this. "But how can we be sure the Tyrant will keep his word?" I demanded.
"We accept!" a mob leader cried, shouldering me aside.
"But no action to be taken against the people in this room!" I exclaimed. "Amnesty—"
Shelia smiled. "Amnesty," she agreed. "But I think if you open your mouth again, Mr. Garcia, the Tyrant may reconsider."
"Agreed!" another mob leader cried, hauling me back. They had had to act to prevent me from throwing away all that I had gained, for the Tyrant was known to be mercurial when challenged. But they were vastly relieved and pleased.
That ended the occupation of the mayor's office. The mob dispersed peacefully, and the valve was closed. The mayor was suspended from office, pending the completion of the investigation; no action was taken against the known mob members, and twenty birth permits were issued to the women of the city. Those at the head of the "eligible" roster would profit. And Jose Garcia was a hero.
Yet soon after my success as a popular figure came a personal tragedy. It started, for me, with an article by Thorley. In it he set forth the suggestion that a member of the Tyrant's cabinet had been corrupted by a person of the opposite sex and that funds for that department were being abused. "Does the Tyrant know?" he asked rhetorically. "If so, why doesn't he act?"
Now, this was fighting language. Shelia showed me the column and awaited my reaction. I read it with anger. All my cabinet members were good people, dedicated to their jobs; I knew I had not misjudged any. Yet Thorley was not a man to manufacture charges from air. "We'll deal with this openly," I snapped. "Issue a news release: my challenge to Thorley to name the cabinet member."
"Are you sure that's wise, sir?" she asked. "If the name becomes public, you could be placed in an awkward position."
I should have paid closer attention to the warning, but I was in the office only briefly, about to return to my role as Garcia. "I don't believe there is anyone," I said. "But if there is, I'll deal with it openly. The Tyrancy may not be popular right now, but we cannot afford to have any suggestion of scandal touch it."
"As you wish, sir," she agreed.
In due course the challenge was published, and thereafter Thorley named the member. It was my sister Faith.
Now I wished I had listened to Shelia! It had not occurred to me that the suspect would be a family member. Certainly I would have preferred to handle this quietly. But I was stuck with an open situation.
I talked to Spirit, as I also should have done before. "What's going on here?"
"It seems to be true," she said. "A handsome and poised man has been courting her for influence. She meant well, but he was recommending corrupt cronies, and she has authorized their appointments. I don't believe she suspected, but she should have. She's blinded by love."
Faith—once the most beautiful of young Hispanic women, then the plaything of pirates, finally a respected member of my cabinet. She had enormous support among the masses, for she had truly labored for the welfare of the poor and had accomplished many excellent reforms. But this was scandal, and now I had to act.
I summoned my sister. When she appeared at the White Bubble, I was struck by her elegance. In her mid-fifties, she was a handsome woman, and her dedication to her position enhanced the aura of class. It was hard to believe that she had gotten involved in this sordid thing.
"Is the charge true?" I asked, and knew that it was; her reaction betrayed her.
She spread her hands. "I love him, Hope."
"He has interfered with the Tyrancy," I said. "An example must be set."
She gazed at me and turned away. That hurt me; I wish she had protested in some more obvious way.
We arrested the man and put him on public trial within days. We suspended Faith from her office. I hated this, but it had to be done.
There was no question of the man's guilt. The facts came out quite clearly. All of the suspect appointments were nulled, and the man was sent to labor in space.
And Faith was found in her A
mi apartment, dead. She had taken a euthanasia pill.
Now the storm broke in earnest. For the condemnation of the man there was applause, but for the fate of Faith there was horror. Demonstrators marched and not only in Ami. WHY DID FAITH HUBRIS DIE? the banners demanded.
The answer I remember best is the one made by Jose Garcia. In that guise I was known as an ardent supporter of the common man, so I was one of the ones the media sought for comment. "I believe she died because the Tyrant lost track of basic human nature," I said, expressing the recriminations of the Tyrant far more accurately than they knew. "He has become insensitive to the feelings of others, including his closest family members. He failed to realize how seriously his sister would take the scandal and the destruction of the man she loved. He should have handled this matter privately, allowing her to retire and to join her lover in exile if she chose. Perhaps this is a reflection of his isolation from the passions and needs of the common folk. I'm sure he is extremely sorry now."
"Now that the damage has been done?" a reporter asked, and I nodded affirmatively.
"Do you believe that the Tyrant is losing control and perhaps should be deposed?" another pressed.
Now, that was a leading question, well worth avoiding. But in my mood of grief and regret I stepped into it. "Sometimes I think so," I agreed.
It was not long after that that the Resistance contacted Jose Garcia. "Do you believe that the Tyrancy should be ended?" an anonymous visitor asked.
I controlled my reaction. The Resistance had been bedeviling the Tyrancy increasingly. This was a nonviolent movement that spread ideas rather than physical mischief; it seemed to have no organization, which made it almost impossible to uproot. It supported the return of Jupiter to democracy without reversing all the reforms made by the Tyrancy. The problem with that notion was that every out-of-power movement espouses lofty ideals, but few retain those ideals when they achieve power. I was sure that it would not be safe to give over the reins until the reforms were complete. But it didn't necessarily appear that way to the common man. Thus the Resistance was dangerous, and we needed to be rid of it but had no handle on it.
Anthony, Piers - Tyrant 4 - Executive Page 27
