Norman Spinrad

by A World Between

  “Of course, you realize this means chaos...

  Royce had smiled wickedly, nodded, and said: “For sure. Chaos is the dissolution of the existing order, and the existing order sucks. Now is the time for all good men to destroy political parties. Trust me, babes, let’s take the chance.”

  And after sleeping on it, Carlotta had decided that he was right. There would have to be cauterizing new pain before the infection could be destroyed, in order for the injuries done to the body politic to have a chance to heaL Carlotta glanced around the chamber one more time and took another deep breath. We who are about to lie salute you! she thought fatalistically.

  “The Madigan Plan period ends in eight days,” she finally said, “and at that time the legal mandate for both the continued presence of the Femocratic mission and the continued operation of the Institute will run out Therefore, I’ve decided that, in order to prevent a period of total confusion during which the legal status of the Femocrat mission and the Institute would remain in limbo while we decided what to do next, a vote must be taken on these issues now.”

  The expected pandemonium broke over her. A low murmur whooshed through the chamber, cresting into a series of incoherent shouts. Virtually every light on her board lit up with Delegates demanding the floor.

  “Order!” Carlotta shouted, turning up the amplification of her microphone to override the din. “I’ve got the floor, I’m in the process of introducing a resolution, and you can damn well wait till I’ve finished before you lynch me.” The shouting faded quickly into a guttural murmur again, and then into an even more ominous silence as a hundred pairs of eyes glowered at her with shock, distrust, and no little hostility. And you ain’t heard nothing yet, kiddosl she thought.

  “The Madigan Plan was passed during a period in which the conflicting forces of Femocracy and Transcendental Science were threatening to tear this planet apart,” Carlotta said. “The idea was to postpone the decision now before us so that we would be able to judge the practicality of a permanent Institute of Transcendental Science and a permanent Femocrat presence—and to judge them by deeds, not just words.”

  She frowned sardonically. “Well, since then we’ve had plenty of both!” she said. “As far as I’m concerned, both Femocracy and Transcendental Science have had their chances to demonstrate their goodwill and compatibility with our way of life, and they’ve both failed dismally. Therefore...”

  She paused. The silence was a palpable quivering thing, a giant wave pausing to crest into a roaring, foaming breaker.

  “Therefore... Resolved: that the Institute of Transcendental Science be closed forthwith; that all Heisenberg personnel be banished from Pacifica; that all Femocrats from Earth be likewise banished; and that both the Heisenberg and the B-3I be ordered to leave our solar system within two weeks of the passage of this resolution.”

  An animal roar of outrage rocked the Parliament chamber. Delegates leapt to their feet shouting and waving their fists, Femocrats and Institute supporters alike. The men and women in the center block for the most part sat there stunned and confused, babbling incoherently to each other.

  “The floor is now open for debate on the resolution,” Carlotta said with inane-sounding sweetness.

  “If no one has any further words of wisdom to contribute to this most enlightening debate, I’ll call for a vote on the resolution,” Carlotta said with sardonic blandness. Royce Lindblad sat in the middle of the bedlam as he had throughout the whole endless and meaningless debate, silently admiring the way Carlotta was handling the situation. Using a high setting on her microphone to aurally dominate the cacophony, she had controlled the acrimonious debate—or at least kept some semblance of order—without once raising her voice or even bothering to respond to the shrill insults, threats, aiid charges flung at her from all sides. While the Femocrats ranted about “treason to her sex” and the Bucko Power boys raved about a “sellout of Pacifican buckohood,” Carlotta had remained the voice of sweet reason, the statesman rising far above the ugly three-hour temper-tantrum.

  And that, Royce thought, is what’s going to come across on the net: a serene Carlotta Madigan democratically presiding over an unseemly Parliamentary chaos. The way she had rattled the bars of the cage with gentle patronizing sarcasm throughout the debate had admirably served to milk the situation for as much political capital as it was worth. No one realized it yet, but the media campaign to win the electronic vote of confidence had already begun.

  Now a spent and confused silence prevailed. Perhaps, Royce thought, the Delegates are finally beginning to realize that they’re in the process of being had, though they can’t figure out how. The Femocrat and Bucko Power Delegates were not about to let this resolution pass, but by now they had to realize that the failure of the resolution was going to mean an electronic vote of confidence, and an election campaign under these confusing circumstances was not exactly what they wanted either. So no one wanted to end the‘debate, but no one had anything coherent left to say either, and perhaps the Delegates were also beginning to realize what public asses they were making of themselves.

  Royce shrugged. Why not a small act of mercy? he thought. “Second the motion!” he called out. “I call for the vote.”

  A sullen murmur swept the chamber that guttered quickly into silence.

  “Any other seconds?” Carlotta asked.

  Dead silence.

  “Objections to an immediate vote? Points of order? More speeches?”

  Only a wordless snarl of discomfort.

  “Very well...” Carlotta said neutrally. “Ayes for the resolution, nays against...”

  Numbers flickered across the tote-screen behind her as the Delegates pressed their voting buttons. After a minute or two, the final tally appeared to oohs, ahs, and uncomfortable muttering: 3I votes for the resolution, 72 against. Even the centrist block had not held firm behind Carlotta Madigan.

  Carlotta shrugged. “Motion defeated,” she said with unsettling geniality. “The Chairman’s motion having been defeated, an electronic vote of confidence is hereby scheduled for seven days from now.” She laughed. She favored the chamber with an enigmatic smile. “The Chairman wishes to state at this time that she holds no hard feelings against those of you who voted against the resolution. No hard feelings at all, kiddos. This session of the Parliament of Pacifica is now adjourned.”

  For a moment the Delegates stared at her in stunned silence. Then dim comprehension dawned—somehow, Carlotta Madigan had tricked them again. But why? And how? Why would she deliberately force an electronic vote of confidence on an issue where the numbers seemed to be two-to-one against her? How have we been screwed this time?

  A moment later, the floor broke up into dozens of little impromptu debates and shouting matches. Royce winked at Carlotta, and she winked back. Half a dozen Delegates caught the exchange and favored Royce with lizard-eyed stares. Royce shrugged and smiled back sweetly at them. You’ll never figure it out, he thought. Not in a million years.

  A full shot on Roger Falkenstein standing in front of the Institute building. Between Falkenstein and the Institute, lines of male Pacificans are trooping somewhat sullenly into four large helicopters. Falkenstein himself looks grim, his face taut with ill-concealed (or perhaps artfully crafted) anger.

  Falkenstein: “Citizens of Pacifica! Although your Parliament has rightfully voted down the perfidious resolution, introduced by Carlotta Madigan, to close the Institute, it is my judgment that the Institute can no longer function in safety and security as long as Madigan is Chairman of Pacifica. She has unilaterally attempted to abrogate two agreements concluded between her administration and Transcendental Science. Therefore, we have the same lack of confidence in her that your Parliament has just expressed and that I hope you too will express in the coming electronic vote of confidence.” *

  Cut to a much longer shot on the Institute building, the lines of students entering the helicopters, and crews of Heisenberg personnel who are disassembling domes and out
buildings with matter transformers. One by one, the small buildings wink out of existence until only the bright silvery disc of the Institute itself remains.

  Falkenstein’s voiceover: “Though it pains me to do this, I am now dismissing the Institute’s Pacifican student body and dismantling some of the facilities themselves. The teaching staff will be returned to the Heisenberg. The Institute will remain closed until Carlotta Madigan is defeated and the Pacifican Parliament grants us permanent permission to operate an Institute of Transcendental Science on this planet”

  Cut to a closeup on Falkenstein, looking regretful but determined.

  Falkenstein: “Should such permission not be forthcoming within thirty days, the Heisenberg and all within her will leave this solar system forever. Pacifica will be permanently excluded from the interstellar communion that will one day encompass all human worlds. Only the empty shell of the Institute building will remain as a monument to the shortsighted folly of your gtDvemment...

  An exterior time-lapse shot of the silvery Institute building. Jungle undergrowth grows in the cleared area. Great trees shoot up, godzillas roam among them, vines begin to creep over the Institute building itself, until all is obscured by the renascent Godzillaland jungle.

  Falkenstein’s voiceover: “....nd soon enough even that will sink back into the primeval slime...

  A series of shots slowly dissolving into each other: an artificial sun over a verdant Thule, great buildings springing up to form a fantasy city on the dun sands of the Wastes, an old man melting into a vision of youthful vigor, a great fleet of fancifully baroque Arkologies orbiting Pacifica.

  Falkenstein’s voiceover:...nd all that will be left to you is the sad lost memory of what might have been.” Cut to a closeup on Falkenstein, shrugging ruefully. Falkenstein: “And for what? For some dim concept of planetary nationalism that was moribund before man reached the stars? To gratify the bloated ego of Carlotta Madigan? Because you fear growth and change? Perhaps not. I hope not. I think not. I cannot believe that you will let this happen when the time comes for you to vote—for a place in the forefront of human evolution, or for moral cowardice, primitivism, and ultimate retrogression. But the choice is yours. May you have the greatness to make it wisely.”

  In her hotel room high above the brilliant nightscape of Gotham, Maria Falkenstein sat on the edge of the bed listening to Roger shout at her on the comscreen.

  . . what do you mean you won’t go? I’m your husband! And I’m also the Managing Director of the Heisenberg, and I’ve ordered all Heisenberg personnel to return to the Arkology until Madigan is defeated and Parliament grants us a permanent Institute! That certainly applies to you! What do you think Madigan and Lindblad would make of it if they learned you were still on Pacifica against my direct orders?”

  “I don’t know, Roger,” Maria said. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

  Maria sighed. She had come to Gotham in the first place to clear her head, to come to a better understanding of these people, to decide who they really were, who she really was, and what she must do. But now they suddenly seemed more alien than ever. What was happening now was incomprehensible to her. But at least now I’ve got plenty of company, she thought “What’s happening is quite simple, Maria,” Roger said testily. “Madigan has made a catastrophic mistake. She will surely be soundly defeated in this electronic vote of confidence. With her out of the way, this ‘Pacifica for the Pacificans’ movement will evaporate, and politics here will boil down to a straightforward confrontation between our supporters and the Femocrats. Therefore, we’re forcing the electorate to face reality by closing the Institute and removing ourselves to the Heisenberg. Which is why you must return to the Heisenberg with me at once!” Roger’s angry face, his voice, his scenarios, his clear certain logic seemed to Maria like a pale spectre of the dead dim past, a thin surface reflection of the deeper, more complex, and far more ambiguous reality that now rolled over Pacifica and which writhed in convoluted tangles within her own mind. I can’t go back, she thought. I’m not the same person anymore, and perhaps Roger isn’t either. Or if he is, it only proves what a sleepwalker I was before I set foot on this planet. A human computer running on preprogrammed logic circuits. I can’t be that any more, even if I want to. And perhaps I do... perhaps I do...

  “I can’t do that, Roger,” she said. “I can’t go back. It’s too late for that.”

  “Maria, Maria, come to your senses!” Roger said, his voice plaintive now, but also patronizing. “What do you suppose you’re going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Maria said forlornly. “I really don’t.” Roger’s anger burst through again. “I could force you,” he snapped. “I could declare you mentally unbalanced and place you under protective custody.”

  “No, you couldn’t,” Maria said, more in sorrow than anger. “That would be kidnapping or worse under Pacifican law, and I’d go straight to the Ministry of Justice if you tried. You couldn’t afford a scandal like that.”

  “Great suns, Maria, you’re talking like one of these bloody Pacificans yourself!” '

  “Maybe I am...” Maria muttered. “Maybe I am...” A cold steel shield seemed to come down behind Roger’s eyes. “You’re really serious about this?” he said flatly. “You won’t come back to the Heisenberg? And if ... if we should be forced to leave this solar system... ?”

  “Oh, come on, Roger,” Maria snapped, “you’re not planning on that and neither am I. Madigan will be defeated, you’ll push your resolution through Parliament, the Institute will be reopened, and...” And nothing will really be changed, she thought. Except what matters most to these people. You’ll win out in the end, Roger. You always do. And that’ll give me the easy way out. She shuddered. She wondered why she felt so trapped, so overcome by self-loathing.

  “For once tonight you’re making sense,” Roger said coldly. “This is only a temporary withdrawal. If ... if I can’t convince you to listen to reason ... at least will you promise me that... that you’ll keep out of public sight...

  “Appearances are more important to you than reality now, aren’t they?” Maria said sadly. “This isn’t my husband speaking now, it’s the Managing Director of the Heisenberg, isn’t it?”

  “I see no conflict in those roles even if you do,” Roger snapped. “Will you please—”

  “I’ll stay out of sight for now to please you,” Maria said. “It’s the least I can do, isn’t it?” And to please myself, she thought. Truth be told, I’m not very proud of who I am right now.

  “It certainly is!” Roger said. “I’ll keep in touch with you from the Heisenberg.”

  “You do that, Roger,” Maria said. I only wish you really meant it in some kind of human sense.

  “Goodnight, Maria.”

  “So long, Roger,” she muttered, and unplugged from the circuit.

  Afterward, she stood for a long time at the window, looking out at the lights of the alien city spread beneath her like a mocking reflection of the distant stars. From this vantage point, both seemed equally far away, equally abstract, equally beyond the reach of her heart. Suspended between the world she had known and the world she had come to love in some cold alienated way like a woman enamored of the image of a man she could never touch, Maria was alone in the Pacifican night, isolated from both worlds, trapped in the desolate reaches between.

  18

  A PANORAMIC SHOT OF THE INSTITUTE OF TRANSCENDENtal Science as seen from the air; a silver disc abandoned and isolated in an endless sea of green like a ruined temple in some primeval Terran jungle.

  Female voiceover: “Sisters of Pacifica! The Institute of Transcendental Science now lies empty and abandoned. Only Parliament can reopen it, and if we can prevent such a resolution from passing for thirty days, the faschochauvinist Transcendental Scientists will leave Pacifica forever. Falkenstein has trapped himself by his vainglorious attempt to blackmail our planet into submission.”

  Cut to a closeup on Susan Willaway.

&nb
sp; Susan Willaway: “But we cannot slack in our determination. If Carlotta Madigan should win this vote of confidence behind her smokescreen of false evenhandedness, there will be new Parliamentary elections, and the dupes of Falkenstein will wage an all-out campaign to seize control of the new Parliament.”

  A medium shot on Susan Willaway, her head and shoulders haloed by a large hologram of Pacifica floating in the stellar blackness.

  Susan Willaway: “That is one reason for consigning Carlotta Madigan to oblivion. But there is another. The Transcendental Scientists have now left Pacifica, so the full weight of Madigan’s determination to ban both Transcendental Science and Femocracy from this planet now falls on our Terran sisters aloneI It is now revealed as nothing but an attempt to deny ongoing free media access to interstellar Femocracy! It is treason to both Sisterhood and Pacifica’s own media access laws! The so-called Madigan Plan now stands revealed as the fraud it always was.”

  A long shot of male Institute students trooping into helicopters, taken from Falkenstein’s own footage.

  Susan Willaway’s voiceover: “The student body leaving the Institute of Transcendental Science, That’s right, sisters, all male, buckos, one hundred percent! Even after Madigan announced that our own Ministry of Science would control admissions, the Institute was still allowed to function as a faschochauvinist brainwashing academy with the active and knowing collaboration of the Madigan administration! In secret! After she lied to us in order to break our strike!”

  Cut a closeup on Susan Willaway, smiling sardonically.