A Woman a Day

by Philip José Farmer

  Nobody asked him to elaborate; they were too eager to discuss their own theories.

  Dannto didn’t think the Bantus could be much of an underground force; their skin color prevented them from activity in Europe.

  Candleman replied that they could hire their work done by Cuze and Jack traitors.

  “Perhaps,” said Leif brightly, “J. C. could stand for Jack Christians. There was a group once that tried to get legal recognition within the Haijac as a separate church from the Bantu ecclesiastical organization, loyal to the Union and regarding the Africans as heretics.”

  “Nonsense,” said Dannto. “That was a century ago, if I remember the history I was taught in college. They all went to H and were never heard of again.”

  “If the French could hide underground for two and a half centuries, these people could for one.”

  Both the other men were scornful of the idea; it was sailing against the wind of their theories.

  “No,” said Dannto, “the Forerunner, in one sense or another, has traveled along the fields of presentation, backward and forward. He went into the future, came back, wrote books about it, established the Haijac and its buttress, the Sturch, and then went off into time again. He predicted the future; all events since then have verified his forecasts. The last days are upon us; Timestop will soon be here. Whether Sigmen’s actual presence here will be necessary, I don’t know.

  “But I do know that in his Time and the World Line he mentioned, rather cryptically, the sinister Backrunner, his antagonist, the man who will try to undo all his good works, both in past, present, and future. There is only that one mention, but since then a host of apocrypha have sprung up about this Backrunner. Many of them have since been investigated and stamped as authentic and not to be doubted by the Sturch.

  “Though Sigmen did not mention the Backrunner’s name, we now know that it is that of Jude Changer, Sigmcn’s contemporary and lefthanded traveler in time.

  “It is my opinion, backed by the facts, that J. C. stands for Jude Changer.”

  He held up a fat hand to stall Candleman’s protest.

  “I will concede that this man may be the same as Jacques Cuze, operating under that name in order to conceal his true identity. But egotist that he is, he has to let us know in a sinister manner who he really is.”

  The QB buzzed, and the image of an Uzzite formed in the box. His message: Thorleifsson was still missing.

  That broke up the party.

  Candleman jumped up, his nostrils flaring.

  “Perhaps you’ll believe me now, abba” he said to the Urielite. “The chances are that my lieutenant has been murdered while on Cuze’s track. 1 must go at once. I’ll never rest until I know what happened to him.”

  “Perhaps,” said Leif, thinking of Thorleifsson’s ashes being washed down the drains and into the sewers, “he’s gone underground in pursuit of the Frenchman?”

  “Nonsense, Doctor. Without notifying me?”

  Candleman walked to the door of the room where Halla slept and before anybody could protest he had stepped inside. Leif jumped up and strode after him.

  He found the Uzzite standing by her bedside, looking intently at her. The nurse was at the other side of the room; she had made no attempt to prevent Candleman from entering.

  Leif could barely conceal his anger. “You have been told,” he said in a strangled whisper, “that Mrs. Dannto was not to be disturbed. I do not want to repeat that again.”

  Candleman lingered over the beautiful head with its corona of flaming hair spread out on the white pillow. Then he straightened and walked out without a word. Leif felt his fists curling; he would have liked to drive them into that hard mouth.

  When the Uzzite had stepped out, Leif turned to the nurse.

  “You may go back to your floor,” he said. “You won’t be needed here.”

  The nurse, a dragon of eighty years, opened her mouth to protest, saw what his face meant and walked out. Leif suspected she was working for Candleman. This gave him a good excuse to dismiss her; it was irony that Candleman himself had furnished the reason.

  Chapter 12

  No SOONER HAD Leif returned to the dining room than the QB buzzed again. A Urielite’s form appeared in the QB. He informed his superior that the Metratron wished him to be present at an important meeting of the inner council at Montreal tomorrow. Dannto hesitated and then replied he’d be there.

  “As you can see,” the fat man said to Leif, “I’m very busy. This noon, an operation; tonight, I leave on the coach for Canada. 1 just never get time to spend with my wife.”

  “We’ll take care of her. She can follow you tomorrow evening. Provided there are no complications.”

  Dannto’s chin quivered with delight. He slapped Leif on the back.

  “You’re the best there is, Doctor.”

  “That’s true.”

  Barker then QB’d his assistant and told him to prepare for a removal of a tumor from Dannto’s abdomen at 1500. Also, to send up a nurse to escort the Archurielite to a room on 800, the surgical floor.

  “You’ll get a sedative and be bathed and dressed for the operation,” said Leif.

  “I was hoping I’d get to stay here longer,” pouted Dannto.

  “Mrs. Dannto won’t be awake until 2100.”

  “Sigmen take it, I have to leave on the 2000 coach. Do you think I’ll be able to go on it?”

  “I sympathize with your predicament,” said Leif, “but inasmuch as the coach doesn’t accelerate fast enough to strain your incision, I can’t honestly tell you to stay here overnight.”

  “Well, this conference is really important. I’d better go.” After he’d ushered Dannto out, Barker waited until the replacement nurse arrived for Halla. Once he’d given her her orders, he went into his bedroom. Ava was sprawled out on a chair in a lace dressing gown, smoking a cigarette. “Give me one,” said Leif. “I wanted one all morning.”

  “I’ll give you nothing,” retorted Ava, “except a kick in your big head. Why did you dissect that girl instead of cremating her at once? What’s up, Leif? You’re not obeying the CWC’s orders.”

  Leif put down the glow-wire with which he had lit his cigarette and began puffing on the Fruitful Times.

  “Ava, I’ll be frank with you. Have you considered the thoughtpicker?”

  “What’s that got to do with this?”

  “Look. What happened when the picker went on the blink? Did we repair it?”

  “No, it was carried away and another brought to replace it.”

  “Why?”

  “I suppose because it’s boobytrapped. If it’s opened, it blows up. That, naturally, is to keep its secret from falling into the hands of the Jacks, if they should catch on that we’re using one.”

  “Sure, and the trap is there to keep inquisitive Marchers out as well as Jacks. Want to know why? Because it’s a loaned machine. The lenders want its structure to remain a mystery. They’re afraid that the Earthmen who can manufacture such things will get too much power.”

  “What do you mean by Earthmen?”

  “Ava, I’ve looked the thoughtpicker over during many lonely evenings when I’d nothing to do. There’s not much to see, but from what I can make out, I’d say the thing is of alien construction and design.”

  Ava blinked long curling lashes.

  “How did you arrive at such a startling conclusion?”

  “Don’t laugh. It’s a feeling I get when I look at it. It just doesn’t have the Terran look. I’ll swear there’s something non-human about it.”

  “Imagination!”

  “No. Intuition.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No. That girl, and the one I dissected, are not human.”

  Ava sat up.

  “How do you know?”

  Leif explained.

  The glowing cigarette in Ava’s hands shook. Leif thought Ava was more upset than necessary.

  “There’s something else,” he said. “We know that the Haijac
morals have been, by their own admission, decadent for the past hundred years. But during the last fifteen years the immorality increased. It’s almost as if a catalyst from outside has been accelerating it. But what is the catalyst?

  “For one thing, the CWC’s been helped by this drug that enables our agents to be injected with truthdrug and yet continue to lie. Thus, they can survive the questions before the Elohimeter and earn their gold lamechs. We’ve used that advantage to pass off our own men among the Jacks, men who have the inestimable opportunity to work almost unquestioned in this society and to do their damnedest damage. But, where did we get that drug? We didn’t invent it, I know.”

  “Perhaps we got it from the Jacks themselves,” suggested Ava. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Their sciences are so unintegrated that many inventions pass unnoticed and undeveloped.”

  “Yes, and that, ironically, is due to their suspicion of the giant integrating electronic ‘brains’ we use. Sigmen himself fostered that handicap when he warned them that the inordinate use of such machines might result in the machines ‘taking over.’

  “But here’s the point they don’t know about—we suddenly start using this drug about ten years ago. Know what I think? That it, like the thoughtpicker, is extraterrestrial.”

  “And the girls are XT’s who’re helping us? But why should they get in the midst of it?”

  “Ava, when did Jack women start using lipstick? When did the hierarchy begin drinking in private? When did we learn that there were female March agents who had an enormous influence upon the top Sturchmen?”

  “You mean that these XT females initiated these changes through their influence on the hierarchy?”

  “Shib. Of course, they couldn’t have done it unless the Jack women were ripe for such a thing. That it was done so easily proves they were. And, Ava, who first called the council of Urielites to debate a certain scriptural passage? And who influenced the council to interpret it in such a way that women could use cosmetics?”

  “Dannto. At Halla’s urgings. There’s one inconsistency. How did these girls come to influence them in the first place? Time was when they’d been hauled off to H without a second thought just for suggesting the changes.”

  “That,” said Leif slowly, “is what I intend finding out.

  They must have something that is really powerful, almost magical. And I intend to find out what it is.”

  He went to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of alcohol, which he mixed with a purplish fluid.

  Leif said, “By the way, not to get off the subject, I think Shant’s in love with you. Those sheep eyes!”

  Ava exploded. “Every time we’re alone he makes a pass at me. Him and his big hypocritical mealymouth when others are around—and then those sticky little paws of his when nobody’s looking! The next time, I’m breaking his teeth. Orders or no orders.”

  “Now look who’s disobeying. You’re a poor soldier. You know I told you to string him along. He’s a good source of information, and we might want to use his lust for you to get us out of a spot.”

  “Well, I can’t let him get too close.”

  “Heh, heh!” Leif threw a half-glass down his throat. “Good thing this stuff smells like ether. Otherwise I’d shock the nurses. I’m not too sure it isn’t ether.”

  He shuddered and then filled another glass.

  “Here’s the setup, Ava. I cut Dannto’s tumor out at 1500. Candleman will be watching the operation through the QB. You set it to break down at 1515. Peter Sorn will get the blame. We’ll send an anonymous accusation later. Whether that’ll be enough to send him to H, I don’t know. The tech shortage is getting so acute that the Uzzites, inflexible though they are, have not been nearly so eager to ship them off as they were when we first started this. However, a few more ‘sabotages’ like that, and they won’t be able to overlook Som.”

  “Too bad about Peter,” said Ava. “He’s one of the few people in this hospital I can stand. Why can’t we fix up sneaky old Gunnarsson?”

  “You know why. Because he’s not the tech Sorn is. The Jacks won’t miss him as much.”

  “I’d like to send that little lecher Shant down. When are we going to start on him?”

  “Ah, ah, let’s leave personalities out of this.”

  “Do you know Leif, I still can’t see why Jackasses haven’t tumbled to our technique? Are they really that stupid?”

  “No, you mustn’t make that mistake. Their I.Q., I imagine, is about the same average as that of the people of other nations. You see, Ava, you hear much about the high intelligence of the Izzies because they’re partly descended from the citizens of Israeli, one of the few organized and undecimated countries left after the Apocalyptic War. The theory goes that those people then living represented a group whose history included so many thousands of years of oppression, of persecution, of weeding out, that only the mentally alert survived. When the overcrowded little country was presented with lands where only a few unorganized, dazed survivors dwelt, it almost literally exploded. In an amazingly short time colonies ringed the Mediterranean; these grew, fed by families that normally included a dozen children. Mortality rates were low, and newly-invented rejuvenation techniques kept parents propagating far into their nineties.

  “There were quite a few people living in the lands to which these colonists came. They were ineffective because widely separated and because they’d reverted to a primitive agricultural society. But they were treated well, because the Israeli constitutions guaranteed them full rights. Nevertheless, inevitably, they were absorbed; their genes, their languages, their customs. And their descendants were none the worse off. I’d say they benefited.

  “Remarkably enough, the Icelanders could make the same claim. None but the strong and the clever survived the extremely harsh environment of Iceland from the first colonization in the tenth century A.D. up through the eighteenth century A.D. And their descendants, like those of the Israelites, were keen and independent.

  “So, too, the Hawaiians, perhaps the most mixed in race of all people, a melting pot of Mongolian, Polynesian, Caucasian, and, in short, just about anything you cared to name. It was this heterosis, perhaps, that accounted for the fact that the Hawaiians spread faster and further than any of the others, so that they repopulated the Americas, Japan, China and eastern Siberia.”

  Ava spoke first. “Thank you, Professor Barker. Then why did the democratic, high-I.Q. Icelanders and Hawaiians become what amounted to slaves?”

  “Their present subservience should be a warning to all. We, and the Israelites, who pride ourselves on our democratic traditions, might easily have gone the same way. And would have, if it had not been for several great men among the early Israeli colonists of the Mediterranean countries who gave their lives that the constitutions might be preserved.

  “What happened in the Haijac was that this man Sigmen came along when there was a great deal of strife and unrest. Also, this was the age of religious revival, if you’ll remember. Everywhere, all over the world, a spirit long thought dead arose and strode across continents. Sigmen, the founder of an obscure and crackpot pseudo-Christian cult, rose to glory on the crest of the wave. He had what the other prophets lacked—a pseudo-scientific explanation for what had seen considered spiritual phenomena. Now, he claimed, it was no longer a matter of faith; it was facing the facts. He presented his distortions of the theories of Dunne on time. He explained, to his disciples’ satisfaction, anyway, all historical and religious events in the light of the neo-dunnology.

  “Moreover, after he’d seized power, he kept it personally for several hundred years, a thing no other politician or conqueror had ever been able to do, because they didn’t have longevity drugs. Using the usual brutal means, he set up a state in which the citizens, for their own good, of course, underwent a constant and intimate security. The guardian-angel-pro-tempore system, plus systematic sublimation of normal human drives, resulted in what you see today.

  “In addition to that, he u
tilized the tremendous prestige of the Israeli Republics to add to his own. He took the admiration of his own subjects for the Mediterranean power and perverted it. He wrote his Western Talmud, adopted the Hebrew language as the theological and scientific language, and, in short, made a mockery and a travesty of us for his own purposes. And, probably, all in good faith.”

  Ava deliberately yawned and said, “Thanks for the history lesson, Teacher. Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know?”

  Annoyed, Leif said, “I will. I’ve a criticism, Ava, that might not seem much to you, but it might be one of the little things that’ll give us away. Please try to restrain your disgust when you’re eating certain foods. I’m afraid it’s going to be noticed.”

  “But Leif, mouse fricassee! And ant jelly! Every time I sit down to eat, I see nothing but unclean food!”

  “It’s part of your duty.”

  “If I’d known that, I’d never have volunteered for this. I don’t mind skirting death, a dozen times a day. But the food!”

  Leif guffawed.

  Ava said, “Laugh, you kelev. You’re a shame to your fathers and your grandfathers.”

  “They ate the same things I did. Do you know, it’s rare to find an orthodox Judaist in March. Why did your mother and father flee Sephardia and take refuge in March? It couldn’t have been the strict orthodoxy of Sephardia because you’re orthodox. Was your father a political liberal? Or a criminal?”

  Leif referred to the Republic of Sephardia, which once had been called Spain and Portugal.

  “Why did my parents leave Sephardia?” said Ava. “Because of love. My father met my mother while on a business trip to Cairo. She was a beauty with the biggest darkest eyes you ever saw. She and my father fell passionately in love. And that was a problem not easy to solve. Father was strict orthodox, and mother was an agnostic. They’re very liberal in Khem, you know. Unlike Sephardia, Khem has religious freedom.

  “Both families objected to the marriage. Father and mother married anyway and settled down in Khem in the city of Aswan. But my mother’s family, despite its professed liberalism, persecuted my father by ruining his business and even accused him of being a spy from Sephardia. For all I know, he may have been. Sephardia and Khem had both declared independence of the Israeli Confederation, you know, and were on the point of going to war with each other.