Final Weapon

by Everett B. Cole

common use by this time, in virtuallyevery office of district, regional, and national administration, as wellas by most citizens. And he'd served under Marko Keller once--known himfairly well, too. He shrugged.

  It would be a little irregular for a district Fiscal chief to makedirect contact with the Coordination Agency's comptroller, but there wasnothing like getting the most expert and authoritative advice available.He relaxed, trying to recreate his memories of the man who was nowNational Comptroller.

  * * * * *

  Marko Keller strode purposefully into the filing section. He couldeasily get the data he needed by simply contacting one of the clerks, heknew, but he felt an urgent need for personal activity. Thatconversation with DeVore, way out in Region Nine, had upset him morethan he liked to admit, even to himself.

  It wouldn't be so bad if it were an isolated incident. Such things couldbe taken care of by administrative action, and a single instance wouldcause little disturbance. But there were too many, happening too often.He pulled a file drawer open, violently.

  One of the clerks approached. "Can I help, sir?"

  Keller turned to look at him. The man, he noted, was wearing one of thelate model inductive headbands that had been sold in such quantitieslately. Deluxe model, too. Must have cost him at least two months' pay.Like almost everyone else, he was vitally concerned in this latestaffair. Keller frowned. He, himself, he realized, was acting childishly.He would simply be wasting time by trying to do this by himself.

  "Yes," he growled. "Get me a brief on a few cases like this one." Hemade full contact with the man, rapidly summarizing his conversationwith DeVore, and including DeVore's short flash of his own conversationwith Ward Kirk.

  "_And get a rundown from personnel. Dig up something on their angle,too. Several representative cases. Get a few people to help you--many asyou need. I'm going to take this whole mess in to the Chief tomorrowmorning._"

  * * * * *

  Paul Graham swept into the apartment, seized his wife about the waistand swung her into the air, to set her on top of one of his bookcases.

  "They've done it, honey," he shouted.

  Elaine kicked her heels in a rapid tattoo against the back of the case.

  "Paul Graham, you get me down this instant," she ordered indignantly."Who's done what?"

  Graham stepped back and beat on his chest. "Meet the new productionmanager, Mentacom Division, Consolidated Electronics."

  "Production manager? But, Paul, only first-class citizens can holdsupervisory positions."

  "Not any more. Didn't you have the communicator on for the news? It allcame in."

  Elaine shook her head and jumped to the floor. "I've a confession tomake, Paul. Ever since they stopped the compulsory notices, I haven'thad the thing on at all. It bothered me."

  Her husband shook his head in mock dismay. "So now, I'm married to anignoramus." He spread his hands. "She doesn't know what's going on inthe great, big world." He shook a finger at her.

  "It all busted this afternoon, darling. While you sat around in yoursplendid isolation, everything turned upside down."

  She looked at him indignantly for an instant, then turned toward thekitchen.

  "Paul, if you don't stop raving, I'm going to get my mentacom and pry itout of you," she threatened. "Now, you just settle down. Stop talking incircles and tell me what this is all about."

  "Oh, all right. If you insist." Graham sank into a chair, looking like asmall boy caught in a prank. "First, there are no more first-classcitizens--no second-class citizens--not even third-class citizens.Everyone's a citizen again. Period." He threw his hands up.

  "You mean--?"

  "That's exactly what I mean. No more restrictions. No more compulsorycommunity work. No more quarters inspections. And no more privileges.We've got rights again!

  "If you want a dress, you buy it. You don't worry about whether it suitsyour station. If I can hold a job, I get it. And I did!" He got out ofthe chair and strode across the room, to sit on the arm of the divan."And I can do this, if I want to. If I break this thing down, so helpme, George, I'll go out and buy a new one." He bounced up and down alittle.

  "The administrators are going back to their original jobs. They'reresponsible for defense, in case of enemy attack, and that's all." Hepaused. "Of course, until sector and district elections can be held,they'll still take care of some of the community functions--some ofthem, that is. But the elections'll be set up in a few weeks, and we'llbe able to choose our own officials for community government."

  He bounced to his feet again, strode around the bookcases, and lookeddown at his desk. Then, he looked around again.

  "Corporations are being set up to take over home construction." He heldup a hand. "_Home_ construction, I said, not quarters. They'recommercializing helicopter manufacture, all kinds of repair work, and alot of other services. And they're going to restore patent rights. Thatmeans plenty to us, darling, believe me."

  * * * * *

  "But, but why? What happened?"

  Graham turned on her. "Elaine," he cried, "haven't you noticed how manypeople are wearing mentacoms now, all the time? Haven't you noticed theconsideration people have been giving each other for the past weeks?Remember what I told you once? If you fully understand a person, yousimply can't kick him around. It's too much like taking slaps atyourself. With the exception of a few empathic cripples, who can't usethe mentacom properly anyway, everyone, inside the administrativeoffices, as well as out, recognized that the bureaucracy was simplyunworkable as it stood. So, they changed it. Effective immediately."

  Elaine stamped her foot. "You know I haven't been out of thisapartment," she cried. "And you know why. I simply couldn't stand thetreatment I got. I'd have gotten into serious trouble in minutes. So,I've stayed in. I've done my shopping by communicator, and contentedmyself right here." She paused.

  "But how is the new administration going to be supported? What arepeople going to do? How are they taking it? It's all so sudden, I shouldthink--"

  Graham held up a hand.

  "Hey," he protested. "One at a time, please! First--remember taxes?Remember how we used to growl about them? They're back. And I love 'em.Second--nobody is going to do anything. Anything drastic or unusual,that is. And finally? Everyone I've seen is taking it in their stride.Seems as though they've been sort of expecting it, ever since theystarted mind-to-mind communication.

  "You'd be surprised how good most people are at it, now that they'reused to it. You start into a line of helicopters. All at once, yourealize that the guy coming is really in a hurry. He's got to getsomewhere, fast. So, you let him go by. The next fellow's not going tobe in any tearing rush. He'll let you in, and cheer you on your way.

  "You feel like being left alone? Nobody'll even notice you. But if youfeel like talking, half a dozen total strangers'll find something incommon with you. And they'll discuss it. Honey, you'll be surprised howmuch you've missed. Get your mentacom. Let's take a little shoppingtrip."

  * * * * *

  "And here's one of our more difficult cases. But he's coming alongnicely." Dr. Moran pointed through the one-way window.

  "Name's Howard Morely. He used to be a district leader, under thebureaucracy. But along in the last few weeks, just before the change, hegot into some sort of scrape. They questioned him, and declared himunfit for service. Put him out on a pension." He pulled at an ear.

  "Matter of fact, I understand his case had quite a deal to do with thechange--sort of triggered it. They tell me it sort of pointed up thefallacies of the bureaucracy." He shrugged.

  "But that's unimportant now, I guess. He almost receded into completeparanoia. Had a virtually complete case of empathic paralysis when hecame to us. Simply no conception of any other person's point of view,and a hatred of people that was fantastic. But he's nearly normal now."

  The visiting psychiatrist nodded. "I've seen the type, of cours
e. Wehave a number of them, too. You say this new technique was successfullyused in his case?"

  "Yes. We had doubts of it, too. Seemed too simple. Sure, we're allfamiliar with the mentacoms by now. Wouldn't be without my own. But theidea of a field generator so powerful as to force clear impressions intoa crippled mind like his, without completely destroying that mind,seemed a little fantastic." He shrugged.

  "In this case, though, it was a last resort, so we tried it. He resistedthe field for days.