The brick smashed through the window and skittered across the top of Glen Wheatley's desk. He had already removed most of the breakables, but it caught a large plastic ash tray and sent it caroming off his cheekbone. A thin trickle of blood crept down his face. "Good God, aren't they starting a little early this year?" Bert Hillary, who shared Wheatley's office, was obviously not expecting an answer. He had been making it clear for the past hour (they had all got to their desks an hour earlier for this day) that he was an old hand, while this was Glen's first experience of People's Day.
Glen knew that Hillary had been in the Civil Service only five or six years. He himself could hardly be accused of being an expert on the every-four-years Day. Still, he waited for the older man to make the first move.
Hillary got up and peered cautiously out the shattered window. "Yeah, they're already boiling around the outer wall like yeast in a vat. That guy with the brick must have quite a pitching arm." Sweat stood out on his forehead. He was clearly much more frightened than he pretended to be.
Glen noticed this with some satisfaction. At least, he wasn't the only one. "Come on, Wheatley. Us lower-level boys have got to be on the hop. You'd be surprised how fast that mob can get up here."
Glen unfolded the map of Government House that had been placed on his desk that morning. He stared grimly at it, dabbing at his cheek with a rather grubby handkerchief meanwhile. The bleeding did not show any signs of stopping.
Hillary hurried to the door. "Come on!" He was openly nervous now. "It's no good studying that map for safety-holes now. You should have been doing that ever since we got here this morning."
As a matter of fact, Glen had been doing just that, whenever Hillary's flow of words had momentarily run dry. But he had not yet got the location of all the nearby hidden cubbies clearly in his mind. "Government House is such a maze," he said defensively.
"And we're damned lucky it is," Hillary said from the doorway. "Anyway, how do you know that map you've got there isn't just what they've been hawking in People's Square all this past week?" He gave a slightly sick leer.
"You know those maps are inaccurate. They're just a sop, just to give the mob an extra thrill. Government House plants most of them." He could sound like an old hand, too, Glen thought with a certain smugness.
"Nuts to that. Some of them are amazingly accurate. There are a hell of a lot of non-Government people in here from year to year, and some of them aren't here just on business. Let's get going." Hillary pulled Glen through the door, and then locked it. Glen raised his eyebrows at this. "Oh, sure," his co-worker said wryly. "Gives the People something to work off steam on." He patted the flimsy door. "This will cave in under a few hard shoulders. Not like the safety-hole panels. We hope."
"But they don't unlock for another half hour in this area."
"Thirty-eight minutes, to be exact," Hillary said, glancing at his watch. "And of course the ones deeper in and higher up open even later. We're supposed to give them a run for their taxes."
The corridor was emptying out rapidly. Glen could hear smashing noises from the ground floor.
Apparently the People were already in the building, beginning their day of destruction. He thought gratefully of his private apartment, tucked away in the impregnable heart of Government House. Of course, it was closed off to him too on this day; but at least it was safe from the mob. They would get mainly the chaff to destroy.
"I'm heading for the upper levels," Hillary said. "Even if the safeties open later up there, it takes longer for the mob to penetrate. There's enough breakable and burnable stuff at the first few levels to keep them busy for a while. Coming?"
Glen had just seen Joan Bourne emerge from her office and lock the door. He headed toward her. "I'm going to stay near some out-of-the-way safety in this area and hop in when it first opens. I don't feel like running from the People," he called back with a bravado he did not really feel.
"Suit yourself." Hillary was already at the stairs. He paused for a moment. "And good luck."
"Thanks," Glen said. "Good hiding."
Joan had been listening, and met him in the middle of the corridor. "I think you've got the right idea, Glen. Want some company?"
He smiled, and brushed her cheek with his lips. "You know the answer to that, Joan. For life."
"This is hardly the day to bring that up again." She took his arm, and they turned off down a side corridor. "Besides, I thought our relationship was very nice as it is," she pouted.
"It is. I'm just greedy."
The side passageway took them deeper into the labyrinth that was Government House. Glen had hardly ever been out of it. He had been born and brought up in the great central area that surrounded Government Park, now sealed off from both the People and the Civil Servants. Apart from a vacation trip to another city's Government House, this had been Glen's entire world. And two years ago he had passed the Examinations and become a full-fledged CS, with all the privileges—and perils, he was now realizing—that that entailed.
They turned into another corridor, went past a bank of elevators—turned off for the day, as all the elevators were in the official section of the building—and went up a long flight of stairs.
Glen stopped at the third level.
"This looks like as good a spot as any to wait for the first safety-holes to open. It's out of the way. And there's a hole right here, according to the map. It'll be opening in twenty minutes. The mob should be busy down there for longer than that." They located the almost invisible key square, and Glen pressed his Class-6 key to it. "Just on the chance they might have given us a break," he said half apologetically.
"Apparently they haven't," Joan murmured. "Let's see if my Class-5 has any better luck." She pressed her own key to the square, but the panel still refused to slide back. Class-5 shelters in this area were often combined with those for Class-6.
Glen looked at her quizzically. "Joan, we graduated at the same time, and you're already Class-5—Job Consultation—while I'm still Class-6—Secondary School Allocation. How do you do it?"
"Brains, personality and talent. Hadn't you noticed?" She pressed close to him.
He kissed her. "Mmm, yes. But I still don't see...."
"Darling," she said, "Joan Bourne is a young lady destined to go far. And fast."
"You seem so different from the other girls here though, Joan." He blushed. "You didn't happen to come from ... Outside. Er ... from the People, that is?"
"I grew up in Block 6, Section A, overlooking the statue of Martyr Sherman Adams in Government Park. Just two blocks down from you, if I remember your records correctly."
"You've had access to my records?"
"Class-5 always does to Class-6's. And I took a special interest in you, my dear." She stroked his cheek.
"Then you're forgiven the snooping," Glen smiled. "But to think I was being so polite and discreet about asking your origins!"
"Not many take the Exams and come to Civil Service from Outside any more, sweet. Just as not many from here decide to go out and try their luck in the big world. Generally we stay on our side of the fence, and they stay on theirs. Except for the Day, of course. And then it's all one-way traffic."
"But I've heard some CS people go Outside for their vacation. I never have, of course, but...."
"Oh, yes, quite a few do. You're taken in a CS plane to another Government House, where you won't be known in the city outside. You are given appropriate papers and emerge from the House during business hours. You mingle with the People, just like one of them. And when vacation's over, back to the House for Job Consultation or Welfare Benefits or whatever you want to trump up. Show your true papers, and you're whisked back to your own cozy womb." She smiled reminiscently. "Outside is an interesting experience."
This annoyed Glen obscurely. He put his arm around her. "I don't want you going Outside again. At least, not without me."
"Oh, the People are just people. Except for today...."
"Well, well, the Bourne from which no traveler returneth! Hope I'm not interrupting anything, my dear. Anything important, that is." At this unexpected voice, Glen let go of Joan and spun to face the intruder. It was a Class-2 High Official named Duckpath, whom he had heard speak at a few Government banquets. He dropped his fists, which he had unconsciously raised.
"Mustn't be so nervous, young man," Duckpath said, swaying slightly. He was obviously quite drunk. "How are you, Joanie?" He patted her rump affectionately and gave her a smacking kiss. Joan looked both annoyed and amused. Glen flushed, but said nothing.
After a moment of contemplating the new arrival, Joan said, "Well, Ducks, what brings you down to the lower echelons?"
"Oh, pleasure, pleasure, my dear. Wanted to see all the fun and games. Usually pretty dull on top, you kn............