IN THE VOLANT LAND OF LAPUTA, according to the journal of LemuelGulliver recounting his Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World, noperson of importance ever listened or spoke without the help of a servant,known as a .climenole“ in Laputian-or .flapper“ in rough English translation,as such a Servant’s only duty was to flap the mouth and ears of his masterwith a dried bladder whenever, in the opinion of the servant, it was desirablefor his master to speak or listen.
Without the consent of his flapper it was impossible to gain the attention ofany Laputian of the master class.
Gulliver’s journal is usually regarded by Terrans as a pack of lies composedby a sour churchman. As may be, there can be no doubt that, at this time, the.flapper“ system was widely used on the planet Earth and had beenextended, refined, and multiplied until a Laputian would not have recognizedit other than in spirit.
In an earlier, simpler day one prime duty of any Ten~an sovereign was tomake himself publicly available on frequent occasions so that even thelowliest might come before him without any intermediary of any sort anddemand judgment. Traces of this aspect of primitive sovereignty persisted onEarth long after kings became scarce and impotent. It continued to be theright of an Englishman to .Cry Harold!“ although few knew it and none did it.
Successful city political bosses held open court all through the twentiethcentury, leaving wide their office doors and listening to any gandy dancer orbindlestiff who came in.
The principle itself was never abolished, being embalmed in Articles I & IX ofthe Amendments to the Constitution of the United States of America-andtherefore nominal law for many humans-even though the basic documenthad been almost superseded in actual practice by the Articles of WorldFederation.
But at the time the Federation Ship Champion returned to Terra from Mars,the .flapper system“ had been expanding for more than a century and hadreached a stage of great intricacy, with many persons employed solely incarrying out its rituals. The importance of a public personage could beestimated by the number of layers of flappers cutting him off from readycongress with the plebian mob. They were not called .flappers,“ but wereknown as executive assistants, private secretaries, secretaries to privatesecretaries, press secretaries, receptionists, appointment clerks, et cetera. Infact the titles could be anything-or (with some of the most puissant) no title atall, but they could all be identified as .flappers“ by function: each one heldarbitrary and concatenative veto over any attempted communication from theoutside world to the Great Man who was the nominal superior of the flapper.
This web of intermediary officials surrounding every V.I.P. naturally caused togrow up a class of unofficials whose function it was to flap the ear of theGreat Man without permission from the official flappers, doing so (usually) onsocial or pseudo-social occasions or (with the most successful) via back-doorprivileged access or unlisted telephone number. These unofficials usuallyhad no formal titles but were called a variety of names: .golfing companion,“.kitchen cabinet,“ .lobbyist,“ .elder statesman,“ .five-percenter,“ and so forth.
They existed in benign Symbiosis with the official barricade of flappers, sinceit was recognized almost universally that the tighter the system the moreneed for a safety valve.
The most successful of the unofficials often grew webs of flappers of theirown, until they were almost as hard to reach as the Great Man whoseunofficial contacts they were . . . in which case secondary unofficials sprangup to circumvent the flappers of the primary unofficial. With a personage offoremost importance, such as the Secretary General of the World Federationof Free States, the maze of by-passes through unofficials would be asformidable as were the official phalanges of flappers surrounding a personmerely very important.
Some Terran students have suggested that the Laputians must have been, infact, visiting Martians, citing not only their very unworldly obsession with thecontemplative life but also two concrete matters: the Laputians were allegedto have known about Mars’ two moons at least a century and half before theywere observed by Terran astronomers, and, secondly, Laputa itself wasdescribed in size and shape and propulsion such that the only English termthat fits is .flying saucer.“ But that theory will not wash, as the flapper system,basic to Laputian society, was unknown on Mars. The Martian Old Ones, nothampered by bodies subject to space-time, would have had as little use forflappers as a snake has for shoes. Martians still corporate conceivably coulduse flappers but did not; the very concept ran contrary to their way of living.
A Martian having need of a few minutes or years of contemplation simplytook it. If another Martian wished to speak with him, this friend would simplywait, as long as necessary. With all eternity to draw on there could be noreason for hurrying-in fact .hurry“ was not a concept that could be symbolizedin the Martian language and therefore must be presumed to be unthinkable.
Speed, velocity, simultaneity, acceleration, and other mathematicalabstractions having to do with the pattern of eternity were part of Martianmathematics, but not of Martian emotion, Contrariwise, the unceasing rushand turmoil of human existence came not from mathematical necessities oftime but from the frantic urgency implicit in human sexual bipolarity.
Dr. Jubal Harshaw, professional clown, amateur subversive, and parasite bychoice, had long attempted to eliminate .hurry“ and all related emotions fromhis pattern. Being aware that he had but a short time left to live and havingneither Martian nor Kansan faith in his own immortality, it was his purpose tolive each golden moment as if it were eternity- without fear, without hope, butwith sybaritic gusto. To this end he found that he required something largerthan Diogenes’ tub but smaller than Kubla’s pleasure dome and its twice fivemiles of fertile ground with walls and towers girdled round; his was a simplelittle place, a few acres kept private with an electrified fence, a house offourteen rooms or so, with running secretaries laid on and all other modernconveniences. To support his austerely upholstered nest and its rabble staffhe put forth minimum effort for maximum return simply because it was easierto be rich than to be poor-Harshaw merely wished to live exactly as he liked,doing whatever he thought was best for him.
In consequence he felt honestly aggrieved that circumstances had forced onhim a necessity for hurry and would not admit that he was enjoying himselfmore than he had in years.
This morning he found it needful to speak to the third planet’s chief executive.
He was fully aware of the flapper system that made such contact with thehead of government all but impossible for the ordinary citizen, even thoughHarshaw himself disdained to surround himself with buffers suitable to hisown rank-Harshaw answered his telephone himself if he happened to be athand when it signalled because each call offered good odds that he would bejustified in being gratifyingly rude to some stranger for daring to invade hisprivacy without cause-.cause“ by Harshaw’s definition, not by the stranger’s.
Jubal knew that he could not hope to find the same conditions obtaining atthe Executive Palace; Mr. Secretary General would not answer his ownphone. But Harshaw had many years of practice in the art of outwittinghuman customs; he tackled the matter cheerfully, right after breakfast.
Much later he was tired and very frustrated. His name alone had carried himpast three layers of the official flapper defense, and he was sufficiently anarrow-gauge V.I.P. that he was never quite switched off. Instead he wasreferred from secretary to secretary and wound up speaking voice-&-vision toa personable, urbane young man who seemed willing to discuss the matterendlessly and without visible irritation no matter what Harshaw said-butwould not agree to connect him with the Honorable Mr. Douglas.
Harshaw knew that he would get action if he mentioned the Man from Marsand that he certainly would get very quick action if he claimed to have theMan from Mars with him, but he was far from certain that the resultant actionwould be a face-to-face hookup with Douglas. On the Contrary, he calculatedthat any mention of Smith would kill any chance of reaching Douglas butwould at once produce violent reaction from subordinates-which was notwhat he wanted. He knew from a lifetime of experience that it was alwayseasier to dicker with the top man. With Ben Caxton’s life very possibly atstake Harshaw could not risk failure through a subordinate’s lack of authorityor excess of ambition.
But this soft brush-off was trying his patience. Finally he snarled, .Youngman, if you have no authority yourself, let me speak to someone who has!
Put me through to Mr. Berquist.“The face of the staff stooge suddenly lost its smile and Jubal thoughtgleefully that he had at last pinked him in the quick. So he pushed hisadvantage. .Well? Don’t just sit there! Get Gil on your inside line and tell himyou’ve been keeping Jubal Harshaw waiting. Tell him how long you’ve keptme waiting.“ Jubal reviewed in his own excellent memory all that WitnessCavendish had reported concerning the missing Berquist, plus the report onhim from the detective service. Yup, he thought happily, this lad is at leastthree rungs down the ladder from where Berquist was-so let’s shake him up alittle . . . and climb a couple of rungs in the process.
The face said woodenly, .We have no Mr. Berquist here.“.I don’t care where he is. Get him! If you don’t know Gil Berquist personally,ask your boss. Mr. Gilbert Berquist, personal assistant to Mr. Douglas. Ifyou’ve been around the Palace more than two weeks you’ve at least seenMr. Berquist at a distance-thirty-five years old, about six feet and a hundredand eighty pounds, sandy hair a little thin on top, smiles a lot and has perfectteeth. You’ve seen him. If you don’t dare disturb him yourself, dump it in yourboss’s lap. But quit biting your nails and do something. I’m getting annoyed.“Without expression the young man said, .Please hold on. I will enquire.“.I certainly will hold on. Get me Gil.“ The image in the phone was replaced bya moving abstract pattern; a pleasant female voice recorded, said, .Pleasewait while your call is completed. This delay is not being charged to youraccount. Please relax while-. Soothing music came up and covered thevoice; Jubal sat back and looked around. Anne was waiting, reading, andsafely out of the telephone’s vision angle. On his other side the Man fromMars was also out of the telephone’s sight pickup and was watching imagesin stereovision and listening via ear plugs.
Jubal reflected that he must remember to have that obscene babble boxplaced in the basement where it belonged, once this emergency was over.
.What you got, son?“ he asked, leaned over and turned on the speaker to lowgain.
Mike answered, .I don’t know, Jubal.“The sound confirmed what Jubal had suspected from his glance at theimage: Smith was listening to a broadcast of a Fosterite service. The imagedShepherd was not preaching but seemed to be reading church notices:“-junior Spirit-in-Action team will give a practice demonstration before thesupper, so come early and see the fur fly! Our team coach, Brother Hornsby,has asked me to tell you boys on the team to fetch only your helmets, gloves,and sticks-we aren’t going after sinners this time. However, the LittleCherubim will be on hand with their first-aid kits in case of excessive zeal.“The Shepherd paused and smiled broadly, .And now wonderful news, MyChildren! A message from the Angel Ramzai for Brother Arthur Renwick andhis good wife Dorothy. Your prayer has been approved and you will go toheaven at dawn Thursday morning! Stand up, Art! Stand up, Dottie! Take abow!“The camera angle made a reverse cut, showing the congregation andcentering on Brother and Sister Renwick. To wild applause and shouts of.Hallelujah!“ Brother Renwick was responding with a boxer’s handshake overhis head, while his wife blushed and smiled and dabbed at her eyes besidehim.
The camera cut back as the Shepherd held up his hand for silence. He wenton briskly, .The Bon Voyage party for the Renwicks will start promptly atmidnight and the doors will be locked at that time-so get here early and let’smake this the happiest revelry our flock has ever seen, for we’re all proud ofArt and Dottie. Funeral services will be held thirty minutes after dawn, withbreakfast immediately following for the benefit of those who have to get towork early.“ The Shepherd suddenly looked very stern and the camerapanned in until his head filled the tank. .After our last Ban Voyage, theSexton found an empty pint bottle in one of the Happiness rooms . . . of abrand distilled by sinners. That’s past and done, as the brother who slippedhas confessed and paid penance sevenfold, even refusing the usual cashdiscount-I’m sure he won’t backslide. But stop and think, My Children- Is itworth risking eternal happiness to save a few pennies on an article of worldlymerchandise? Always look for that happy, holy seal-of-approval with BishopDigby’s smiling face on it. Don’t let a sinner palm off on you something .justas good.’ Our sponsors support us; they deserve your support. Brother Art,I’m sorry to have to bring up such a subject-.
.That’s okay, Shepherd! Pour it on!“.-at a time of such great happiness. But we must never forget that-. Jubalreached over and switched off the speaker circuit.
.Mike, that’s not anything you need to see.“.Not?“.Uh-. Jubal thought about it. Shucks, the boy was going to have to learnabout such things sooner or later. .All right, go ahead. But come talk to meabout it later.“.Yes, Jubal.“Harshaw was about to add some advice intended to offset Mike’s tendency totake literally anything he saw or heard. But the telephone’s soothing .hold“music suddenly went down and out, and the screen filled with an image-aman in his forties whom Jubal at once labeled in his mind as .cop.“Jubal said aggressively, .You aren’t Gil Berquist.“The man said, .What is your interest in Gilbert Berquist?“Jubal answered with pained patience, .I wish to speak to him. See here, mygood man, are you a public employee?“The man barely hesitated. .Yes. You must-.
.I .must’ nothing! I am a citizen in good standing and my taxes go to pay yourwages. All morning I have been trying to make a simple phone call-and Ihave been passed from one butterfly-brained bovine to another, and everyone of them feeding out of the public trough. I am sick of it and I do not intendto put up with it any longer. And now you. Give me your name, your job title,and your pay number. Then I’ll speak to Mr. Berquist.“.You didn’t answer my question.“.Come, come! I don’t have to answer your questions; I am a private citizen.
But you are not . . . and the question I asked you any citizen may demand ofany public servant. O’Kelly versus State of California 1972. I demand thatyou identify yourself-name, job, number.“The man answered tonelessly, .You are Doctor Jubal Harshaw. You arecalling from-.
.So that’s what took so long? Stopping to have this call traced. That wasstupid. I am at home and my address can be obtained from any public library,post office, or telephone information service. As to who I am, everyoneknows who I am. Everyone who can read, that is. Can you read?“The man went on, .Dr. Harshaw, I am a police officer and I require yourcooperation. What is your reason-.
.Pooh to you, sir! I am a lawyer. A private citizen is required to cooperate withthe police under certain specified conditions only. For example, during hotpursuit-in which case the police officer may still be required to show hiscredentials. Is this .hot pursuit,’ sir? Are you about to dive through thisblasted instrument? Second, a private citizen may be required to cooperatewithin reasonable and lawful limits in the course of police investigation-.
.This is an investigation.“.Of what, sir? Before you may require my cooperation in an investigation, youmust identify yourself, satisfy me as to your bona-fides, state your purpose,and-if I so require-cite the code and show that a .reasonable necessity’
exists. You have done none of these. I wish to speak to Mr. Berquist.“The man’s jaw muscles were jumping but he answered quietly, .Dr. Harshaw,I am Captain Heinrich of the Federation S.S. Bureau. The fact that youreached me by calling the Executive Palace should be ample proof that I amwho I say I am. However-. He took out a wallet, flipped it open, and held itclose to his own vision pickup. The picture blurred, then quickly refocused.
Harshaw glanced at the I. D. thus displayed; it looked authentic enough, hedecided-especially as he did not care whether it was authentic or not.
.Very well, Captain,“ he growled. .Will you now explain to me why you arekeeping me from speaking with Mr. Berquist?“.Mr. Berquist is not available.“.Then why didn’t you say so? In that case, transfer my call to someone ofBerquist’s rank. I mean one of the half-dozen people who work directly withthe Secretary General, as Gil does. I don’t propose again to be fobbed off Onsome junior assistant flunky with no authority to blow his own nose! If Gil isn’tthere and can’t handle it, then for God’s sake get me someone of equal rankwho can!“.You have been trying to telephone the Secretary General.“.Precisely.“.Very well, you may explain to me what business you have with theSecretary General.“.And I may not. Are you a confidential assistant to the Secretary General?
Are you privy to his secrets?“.That’s beside the point.“.That’s exactly the point. As a police officer, you should know better. I shallexplain, to some person known to me to be cleared for sensitive material andin Mr. Douglas’ confidence, just enough to make sure that the SecretaryGeneral speaks to me. Are you sure Mr. Berquist can’t be reached?“.Quite sure.“.That’s too bad, he could have handled it quickly. Then it will have to beSomeone else-of his rank.“.If it’s that secret, you shouldn’t be calling over a public phone.“.My good Captain! I was not born yesterday-and neither were you. Since youhad this call traced, I am sure you are aware that my personal I phone isequipped to receive a maximum-security return call.“The Special Service officer made no direct reply. Instead he answered,.Doctor, I’ll be blunt and save time. Until you explain your business, youaren’t going to get an~ where. If you switch off and call the Palace again,your call will be routed to this office. Call a hundred times . . . or a month fromnow. Same thing. Until you decide to cooperate.“Jubal smiled happily. .It won’t be necessary now, as you have let slip -unwittingly, or was it intentional?-the one datum needed before we act. If wedo. I can hold them off the rest of the day . . . but the code word is no longer.Berquist.’“.What the devil do you mean?“.My dear Captain, please! Not over an unscrambled circuit surely? But youknow, or should know, that I am a senior philosophunculist on active duty.“.Repeat?“.Haven’t you studied amphigory? Gad, what they teach in schools thesedays! Go back to your pinochle game; I don’t need you.“ Jubal switched off atonce, set the phone for ten minutes refusal, said, .Come along, kids,“ andreturned to his favorite loafing spot near the pool. There he cautioned Anneto keep her Witness robe at hand day and night until further notice, told Miketo stay in earshot, and gave Miriam instructions concerning the telephone.
Then he relaxed.
He was not displeased with his efforts. He had not expected to be able toreach the Secretary General at once, through official channels. He felt thathis morning’s reconnaissance had developed at least one weak spot in thewall surrounding the Secretary and he expected-or hoped-that his stormysession with Captain Heinrich would bring a return call . . . from a higherlevel.
Or something.
If not, the exchange of compliments with the S.S. cop had been rewarding initself and had left him in a warm glow of artistic post-fructification. Harshawheld that certain feet were made for stepping on, in order to improve thebreed, promote the general welfare, and minimize the ancient insolence ofoffice; he had seen at once that Heinrich had such feet.
But, if no action developed, Harshaw wondered how long he could afford towait? In addition to the pending collapse of his .time bomb“ and the fact thathe had, in effect, promised Jill that he would take steps on behalf of BenCaxton (why couldn’t the child see that Ben probably could not be helpedindeed,was almost certainly beyond help-and that any direct or hasty actionminimized Mike’s chance of keeping his freedom?)- in addition to these twofactors, something new was crowding him: Duke was gone.
Gone for the day, gone for good (or gone for bad), Jubal did not know. Dukehad been present at dinner the night before, had not shown up for breakfast.
Neither event was noteworthy in Harshaw’s loosely coupled household andno one else appeared to have missed Duke. Jubal himself would notordinarily have noticed unless he had had occasion to yell for Duke. But thismorning Jubal had, of course, noticed . . . and he had refrained from shoutingfor Duke at least twice on occasions when he normally would have done so.
Jubal looked glumly across the pool, watched Mike attempt to perform a diveexactly as Dorcas had just performed it, and admitted to himself that he hadnot shouted for Duke when he needed him, on purpose. The truth was thathe simply did not want to ask the Bear what had happened to Algy. The Bearmight answer.
Well, there was only one way to cope with that sort of weakness. .Mike!
Come here.“.Yes, Jubal.“ The Man from Mars got out of the pool and trotted over like aneager puppy, waited. Harshaw looked him over, decided that he must weighat least twenty pounds more than he had on arrival . . . and all of it appearedto be muscle. .Mike, do you know where Duke is?“.No, Jubal.“Well, that settled it; the boy didn’t know how to lie-wait, hold it! Jubalreminded himself of Mike’s computer-like habit of answering exactly thequestion asked . . . and Mike had not known, or had not appeared to know,where that pesky box was, once it was gone. .Mike, when did you see himlast?“.I saw Duke go upstairs when Jill and I came downstairs, this morning whentime to cook breakfast.“ Mike added proudly, .I helped cooking.“.That was the last time you saw Duke?“.I am not see Duke since, Jubal. I proudly burned toast.“.I’ll bet you did. You’ll make some woman a fine husband yet, if you aren’tcareful.“.Oh, I burned it most carefully.“.Jubal-.
.Huh? Yes, Anne?“.Duke grabbed an early breakfast and lit out for town. I thought you knew.“.Well,“ Jubal temporized, .he did say something about it. I thought heintended to leave after lunch today. No matter, it’ll keep.“ Jubal realizedsuddenly that a great load had been lifted from his mind. Not that Dukemeant anything to him, other than as an efficient handyman-no, of coursenot! For many years he had avoided letting any human being be important tohim-but, just the same, he had to admit that it would have troubled him. Alittle, anyhow.
What statute was violated, if any, in turning a man exactly ninety degreesfrom everything else?
Not murder, not as long as the lad used it only in self-defense or in the properdefense of another, such as Jill. Possibly the supposedly obsoletePennsylvania laws against witchcraft would apply . . . but it would beinteresting to see how a prosecutor would manage to word an indictment.
A civil action might lie- Could harboring the Man from Mars be construed as.maintaining an attractive nuisance?“ Possibly. But it was more likely thatradically new rules of law must evolve. Mike had already kicked the bottomout of both medicine and physics, even though the practitioners of such werestill innocently unaware of the chaos facing them. Harshaw dug far back intohis memory and recalled the personal tragedy that relativistic mechanics hadproved to be for many distinguished scientists. Unable to digest it throughlong habit of mind, they had taken refuge in blind anger at Einstein himselfand any who dared to take him seriously. But their refuge had been a deadend; all that inflexible old guard could do was to die and let younger minds,still limber, take over.
Harshaw recalled that his grandfather had told him of much the same thinghappening in the field of medicine when the germ theory came along; manyolder physicians had gone to their graves calling Pasteur a liar, a fool, orworse-and without examining evidence which their .common sense“ toldthem was impossible.
Well, he could see that Mike was geing to cause more hooraw than Pasteurand Einstein combined-squared and cubed. Which reminded him- .Larry!
Where’s Larry?“.Here, Boss,“ the loudspeaker mounted under the eaves behind himannounced. .Down in the shop.“.Got the panic button?“.Sure thing. You said to sleep with it on me. I do. I did.“.Bounce up here to the house and let me have it. No, give it to Anne. Anne,you keep it with your robe.“She nodded. Larry’s voice answered, .Right away, Boss. Count downcoming up?“.Just do it.“ Jubal looked up and was startled to find that the Man from Marswas still standing in front of him, quiet as a sculptured figure. Sculpture? Yes,he did remind one of sculpture . . . uh- Jubal searched his memory.
Michelangelo’s .David,“ that was it! Yes, even to the puppyish hands andfeet, the serenely sensual face, the tousled, too-long hair. .That was all Iwanted, Mike.“.Yes, Jubal.“But Mike continued to stand there. Jubal said, .Something on your mind?“.About what I was seeing in that goddam-noisy-box. You said, .All right, goahead. But come talk to me about it later.’“.Oh.“ Harshaw recalled the broadcast services of the Church of the NewRevelation and winced. .Yes, we will talk. But first- Don’t call that thing agoddam noisy box. It is a stereovision receiver. Call it that.“Mike looked puzzled. .It is not a goddam-noisy-box? I heard you notrightly?“.You heard me rightly and it is indeed a goddam noisy box. You’ll hear mecall it that again. And other things. But you must call it a stereovisionreceiver.“.I will call it a .stereovision receiver.’ Why, Jubal? I do not grok.“Harshaw sighed, with a tired feeling that he had climbed these same stairstoo many times. Any conversation with Smith turned up at least one bit ofhuman behavior which could not be justified logically, at least in terms thatSmith could understand, and attempts to do so were endlessly timeconsuming.
.I do not grok it myself, Mike,“ he admitted, .but Jill wants you tosay it that way.“.I will do it, Jubal. Jill wants it.“.Now tell me what you saw and heard in that stereovision receiver- andwhat you grok of it.“The conversation that followed was even more lengthy, confused, andrambling than a usual talk with Smith. Mike recalled accurately every wordand action he had heard and seen in the babble tank, including allcommercials. Since he had almost completed reading the encyclopedia, ............