by Mike Resnick
...With more than one million worlds under Oligarchic control, it was inevitable that the news media
should take on new power and authority. For the most part this power was used to educate and inform the public, but there were occasional abuses, such as the notorious affair in the Aldebaran system, where the duly-elected Coordinator, Gile Cobart (5406-5469 G.E.), was denied all access to... —Man: Twelve Millennia of Achievement ...It was Jorg Bomin (5389-5466 G.E.) who realized to the fullest the power of the media, and proved that, even among such a race as Man, the pen was mightier than the sword. Later discredited by his own race, and even by his own financial empire, the fact remains that it was Bomin who stood alone against the tyrannical regime of... —Origin and History of the Sentient Races,Vol. 8 Cobart had launched another attack, to nobody's great surprise. It was his fifth in four weeks. It wasn't a military attack, for Gile Cobart wasn't at war with any external force. As the duly elected Coordinator of the Aldebaran system, his borders were secured by the greater presence of the Oligarchy. But within the system itself, he reigned supreme. Or, rather, he tried to.
His problem, like that of all political leaders, was the media. His approach to his problem, which made up in forcefulness what it lacked in originality, was to strike out against his critics, castigating them whenever possible and trying to rally public opinion to his side. And in the Aldebaran system, unlike most other worlds where trusts and monopolies were outlawed, he had only one enemy: ASOC, the Aldebaran System of Communications. ASOC controlled, in whole or in part, every newstape, every video and holo channel, and every one of the old-style newspapers. And ASOC didn't like Cobart any better than he liked it. There had never been much love between the two. During the past election, ASOC had thrown up its hands in dismay at the slate of candidates offered, refused to endorse any of them for Coordinator, and sat on the sidelines as the people elected Cobart with a mere twenty-nine percent of the vote. But while he may have had minimal support, once in office he began gathering a maximum of power about him. He was forced to hold, tacitly at least, to the laws of the Oligarchy. But the laws were vaguely worded in many instances, and any man hungry for power could find ample ways to get around them. Such a man was Gile Cobart.
First came a systematic centralization of government. Aldebaran VII was made the capital world of the system, and the seventeen other planets became mere economic satellites. The plights of the native aliens on Aldebaran II, IV, V, and XIII were shunted aside, though given ample lip service. Soon the petty accouterments of dictatorship—brilliantly uniformed bodyguards, refusal to speak to the press, denial of voting rights to previously enfranchised portions of the population, trials of political enemies—began to take shape and form.
Only ASOC stood against him, and he felt it his duty—and his pleasure—to publicly attack ASOC at every opportunity.
ASOC and its chairman, Jorg Bomin, viewed neither the attacks nor the attacker with equanimity. The corporation was the biggest in the system, and its assets were almost as great as the planetary assets of Aldebaran VII. If Cobart had been looking for an opponent worthy of his time and efforts, he couldn't have picked a better one.
Every day Bomin's stations, tapes and papers would attack Cobart and his policies. Every afternoon one
of Cobart's spokesmen would respond with varying degrees of hostility. The battle between the non-free press and the non-free government was reaching a fever pitch when Bomin called his board of directors into session.
He didn't make a very heroic picture, standing there before them. In an age where Man's average height was well over six feet, he barely reached five; in a society where a man's economic and social standing could usually be determined by the fashion of his clothes, he dressed more plainly than the most common of menials; in a profession where style was at least as important as substance, he was bald and underweight and spoke with a slight lisp. In fact, the only thing he had to recommend him was that he always delivered the goods.
He'd been delivering the goods for ASOC for quite some time now. Beginning as a lower-level executive, he had swiftly climbed to the top of the corporate ladder, stomping on as few sets of fingers as possible in the process. Once in full control, he had properly ascertained that tape and periodical distribution held the key to all nonvideo media, and had built up a system-wide distribution empire that rivaled ASOC's control of the airwaves. Never once did he allow ASOC to branch out into any non-media-related investments; excess capital, and there was a lot of it, was funneled back into existing corporate enterprises; more newspapers, more newstapes, more stations, more distributional outlets. ASOC and Bomin were totally self-sufficient entities, continually feeding on themselves, always growing but always controlled.
“Gentlemen,” he said, after taking a sip of water, “I won't mince words. The Coordinator has requested a private meeting with me tomorrow evening. There can be precious little doubt as to the subject matter of this interview. He will almost certainly threaten to nationalize ASOC. I will just as certainly refuse to yield to any threats he may make. Are there any questions?” He waited an appropriate length of time, and, when he had determined that no one had anything to say, he continued:
“I will assume that your silence can be taken to imply full support of my position. I had hoped for, and would have accepted, nothing less. However, you must realize that I cannot simply reject his demand and walk out. To do so would be totally ineffective, and would hardly be likely to improve our position. After all, he must know that my reaction will be negative just as surely as you knew it. Therefore, I feel that we can expect something in the nature of a threat to our continued existence. After all, if he can't own ASOC himself, his next step will doubtless be to destroy it.” “There's no legal way he can do it,” said one of the board members. “There was no legal way he could both try and sentence Pollart last week, but I notice that he seems to have accomplished it,” replied Bomin mildly. “We can go to the Oligarchy,” said another. “Indeed we can,” said Bomin. “However, if he denies his threat, how are we to prove otherwise? I have discarded the possibility of surreptitiously trying to record our conversation. I'm sure he has quite enough safeguards to prevent it. Are there any other suggestions?” He looked around the room. “No? Then since no one has anything further to suggest insofar as a defense or counterattack is concerned, I would like to know if the board will support whatever I find I must do or say during the meeting.” The various board members studied him intently. The old bird had something up his sleeve, that was for
sure; and it was just as sure that he had no intention of telling them what it was. He had allowed them to
offer what few ideas they may have had, shot them down, and now presented them with their only alternative: to trust him blindly and implicitly. They knew Cobart and they knew Bomin. It was a pretty easy choice: They gave Bomin a free hand to do as he wished. Which surprised him no more than did Cobart's latest attack on ASOC. His first act was to instruct his staff that no advance mention was to be made in the media of his meeting, nor was there to be any coverage of the meeting itself. Out of respect for the office of the Coordinator, though not the current officeholder, he showered and shaved before leaving. He was ushered into Cobart's office by a circuitous route. Then the door was closed behind him and he was alone in the huge, ornate room with the Coordinator. “I'll get right to the point,” said Cobart by way of greeting. “I want you and ASOC to get off my back.” “Easily done,” said Bomin with a smile. “Return the power you've illegally usurped from the people of the Aldebaran system.”
“That's just the kind of inflammatory remark I'm objecting to. If you know what's good for you, you'll stop taking potshots at my Administration.” “And that's just the kind of heavy-handed threat I object to, Mr. Cobart,” said Bomin. “Surely you didn't invite me here just to make it.”
“I didn't invite you at all,” said Cobart. “I commanded your presence.” “And I, having weighed the pros and cons, decided of my own
free will to accept your invitation.” “Bomin, I've had enough of your rabble-rousing. Some of the statements you've made through ASOC amount to nothing less than treason.”
“Certainly not treason to the Oligarchy,” said Bomin mildly. “Or are you implying I've committed treason against the people of the Aldebaran system? Because if you are, then you have only to prefer charges formally and—”
“What would you say,” interrupted Cobart, “if I told you that it is within my constitutional power to nationalize ASOC?”
“First, that it is definitely not within your real or implied powers,” said Bomin, “and second, that your desire to do so anyway hardly comes as a surprise to me.” “I've only to say the word and ASOC will become an official government agency,” continued Cobart. “Oh, the courts will probably knock it down, and if they don't, the Oligarchy will. But knocking it down will take time—possibly a year, possibly more. By then the people would have heard both sides of the case, and most of your bright young men would have found nice secure jobs in other fields. Think about it, Bomin.”
“Oh, I assure you Ihave thought about it. Subtlety is not one of your more noteworthy qualities, Mr. Coordinator. We at ASOC foresaw this move long ago.” “I don't doubt that you did,” said Cobart. “Have you come up with any alternative solution which I
would consider satisfactory?”
“It's entirely possible that we have,” said Bomin. “You claim that we present your case unfairly, correct?” Cobart nodded. “What would be your response if, in exchange for your written promise never to raise the issue of nationalization of ASOC again, I promised you—also in writing, to be sure—that ASOC will give you equal time to present your side of the story? In other words, we will guarantee you one minute of air time for every minute we criticize you, one inch of newspaper column space for every anti-Cobart inch we run.”
Cobart rejected the offer, as Bomin had known he would do. Then came the clincher. “What if I further promised that for the three years prior to the next election, no section of the media owned by ASOC or any of its affiliates will criticize you or your Administration, either directly or by implication?”
Cobart stared at him. “You mean it?”
“I was never more sincere in my life,” said Bomin. “I'll further add that should ASOC's end of the agreement be broken at any time prior to the next election, we will offer no resistance to nationalization.” “Put it in writing,” said Cobart.
“Most assuredly,” said Bomin, producing a number of documents from a small titanium-alloy briefcase. “As you can see,” he said, spreading them out on a table before Cobart, “I brought with me a document for every agreement we might possibly reach. Naturally, I didn't expect you to accept halfway measures, but I was prepared just in case you were feeling philanthropic. Ah, here it is.” He pulled one of the papers out, signed it, and then signed a copy. “If you'll just put your signature and the seal of your office on these, our business will be concluded.” “You gave in awfully easily,” said Cobart, staring at the documents. “I never expected Jorg Bomin to surrender without a fight.”
“The end result was inevitable,” said Bomin. “With or without an agreement, ASOC wouldn't be able to get after you in a few days’ time. At least this way I can see to it that you don't manageall the news.” Cobart looked at the document again. “Add a clause about keeping this a secret until either party breaks it, and I'll sign it.”
“Are you planning on breaking it, Mr. Coordinator?” asked Bomin mildly. “No,'’ said Cobart. “But the dayyou do, I'm going to crucify you with this damned paper.” “And in the meantime,” said Bomin, “you'd just as soon the people didn't know that we had agreed not to tell them the truth about you. However, I have no objection to inserting a paragraph addressed to that point.” He scribbled it in, initialed it on both the original and the copy, and handed them over to Cobart, who read them, signed them, and placed the official seal of his office upon them. “I'd better not read about this, or hear about it, or see it, tomorrow morning,” snapped Cobart, returning the copy to Bomin.
“Oh, you have my assurance that you won't,” said Bomin, and left.
The next morning Bomin called another meeting of his board of directors, and brought in the heads of the various news media as well. As soon as all were assembled, he read them the agreement he and Cobart had signed.
“You've ruined us!” cried one of the directors. “What the hell got into you?” demanded another. “Quite the contrary, gentlemen,” said Bomin gently. “Last night, when he affixed his signature to this agreement, Gile Cobart signed his political obituary, although neither he nor you have figured that out yet.”
“You wouldn't want to explain yourself, would you?” asked his newstape head. “Indeed I would,” said Bomin. “That's the reason I've called this meeting. Now, to understand what has happened and what will happen, you must understand the agreement in its totality, both what it says and what it does not say. For example, we have agreed to give Cobart equal time or equal space in the media; in other words, every time we blast him, he gets a chance to hit back. We have further agreed never to blast him.”
“Isn't that contradictory?” asked the newstape head. “I hardly think so,” said Bomin. “ASOC will never again attack Cobart or his Administration, nor will Cobart ever be able to demand time or space to defend himself.” “If that means we're going to spout the government line,” said the head of the video division, “I'm tendering my resignation here and now.”
“You feel I've sold ASOC out?” asked Bomin. “I do.”
“If that's what you think,” said Bomin coldly, “then you're not bright enough to run your department and your resignation is accepted forthwith. Now, to continue: We will never again attack Cobart. Nor will we ever again praise him. In brief, from this moment forward, no section of ASOC will ever again mention his name. Whether his Administration rises in triumph or falls in ignominy, from this day until the next election, all news concerning Cobart will be noted, filed, and forgotten. I realize this will present some problems, such as the new farm bill passed for Aldebaran IX. However, the bill can and will be reported; credit for it will be omitted. No air time or tape time or newsprint will be given to Cobart or his government for any reason whatsoever. Is that understood?” “He'll scream bloody murder,” said the head of the video division.” “Young man,” said Bomin gently, “you have already been dismissed from all duties. However, I'll assume that someone else in the room may be considering that very question, and will address myself to it. Cobart cannot possibly do us any harm by objecting to our policy. For one thing, he cannot reach the people except by personal appearance, and to reach enough of them that way would preclude his being able to function as Coordinator. He cannot show them the agreement for three reasons: first, because he has given his word, in writing, not to; second, because we won't give him access to any segment of the
media; and third, because he doesn't dare let the people know the gist of our agreement. And if you want
a fourth reason, we're on sound legal ground. Nothing in the agreement prevents us from this course of action, and as we are a nongovernmental monopoly, the government cannot legally object to our editorial discretion.
“I would personally suspect that Cobart will try to get news from neighboring systems piped in, but no matter where the news originates, even if it comes directly from the Council chambers on Deluros VIII, it must reach the people through our affiliated media. And this we will firmly refuse to allow. Are there any questions? No? Then the meeting is concluded. My office will issue a set of precise directives to be channeled throughout the organization by the end of the day. As for you,” he added, pointing to the video head, “clear out of your office within a week, and pick up a year's severance pay.” He said it so mildly that anyone who didn't know him would have sworn he was joking; but Jorg Bomin never joked about ASOC.
Within three days the Cobart Administration began to sense what was happening to it. C
obart himself decided to challenge ASOC by requesting an hour of video time for a speech of vital importance to the system. His request was neither accepted nor refused, but merely ignored. All reporters from all media were shortly withdrawn from their duties at his mansion, and the weekly news summary was edited to exclude any mention of Cobart.
