back of their car.’
‘Yes, so I understand.’ Klabund made a note. ‘Now what is your exact status here at the Bureau, please?’
‘I’m the assistant to the Chief of Bureau responsible for human colonial cultural assay.’
‘Could you make that a bit clearer?’
I glanced at Tinescu, who could have put it more clearly because he was less involved, but Klabund added sharply, ‘In your own words, for preference!’
Puzzled, but ready to comply, I said, ‘Well, you know we have two colonies, I presume – Viridis, at 61 Cygni, and Starhome, at Epsilon Eridani. As part of the terms of foundation and support, we’re entitled to cultural survey missions there, and there are two departments in the Bureau which analyse the data received: my own, which is mainly cultural, and Jacky Demba’s which is mainly technical. We’re – well – middlemen. We pass the information on to centres of study which make use of it.’
‘I see. Now – if I’ve got this right – your preoccupationwith the cultural aspects means you’re more involved with Viridis than Starhome.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Amplify, please.’
‘Well … Viridis was planted about a hundred and ten years ago by a group of neo-Roussellians who wanted to return to a pre-technological civilization. On Earth they’d become a laughing-stock, of course, but since the sociologists were pressing the government to aid the study of alternative solutions to the problem of organizing a mass society, their colony was approved and subsidized.’
‘They got on well?’
‘Oh yes. About half of our modern music, drama and verse is Viridian in origin. Their society has a—’ I fumbled for the right word. ‘A depth, a richness, which ours lacks.’
‘You prefer their society to the Starhomers’?’
‘Well – yes. Starhome was founded to see how far a technologically oriented society could be driven. Of course in their own way the Starhomers have done exceedingly well; their level of mechanization is amazing. And, naturally, my department deals with the social consequences of this – well – experiment.’
‘I see,’ Klabund murmured. ‘Mr Vincent, have you ever been a member of the Stars Are For Man League?’
8
I’d always regarded myself as quick-witted, but the speed of my reaction to that astonished me as much as it did Tinescu and Klabund. Presumably it was the last kick of the chronodrin shot bin Ishmael had given me to bring my subjective time up to Tau Cetian level which enabled me to bite back the furious denial that sprang to my lips.Obviously, the question had been designed to catch me by surprise and force an unpremeditated response. Why?
Logic said:
Klabund’s using a lie-detector on me.
So, purely as a matter of principle – because I do not accept that society has the right to invade the mental privacy of any sane individual – I shot out my hand across the shiny surface of the desk and swept aside the squat bulk of the addresser, which was large enough to conceal from anyone sitting in my chair something as compact as a lie-detector.
And I was right. A shallow oblong device with lights on the side turned towards Klabund lay exposed; from it, wires fine as spider’s webs trailed towards me and down the front of the desk.
Cold anger welled up inside me. I said in my most frigid voice, ‘Inspector, what’s the idea of putting that thing on me without my permission?’
Klabund was embarrassed. He swallowed hard and glanced appealingly at Tinescu. The chief coughed.
‘I asked for it, Roald,’ he said.
‘What the hell
for?
’
‘Because you’re the reason why the conveyor system has been fed League literature.’
I digested that slowly. ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ I said at last.
‘No? I wish you hadn’t caught on so quickly, Roald – I’d have liked to see confirmation of the denial you didn’t get around to making …’ Tinescu wiped his face with a weary hand.
‘All right, I’d better give it to you
‘Yes, so I understand.’ Klabund made a note. ‘Now what is your exact status here at the Bureau, please?’
‘I’m the assistant to the Chief of Bureau responsible for human colonial cultural assay.’
‘Could you make that a bit clearer?’
I glanced at Tinescu, who could have put it more clearly because he was less involved, but Klabund added sharply, ‘In your own words, for preference!’
Puzzled, but ready to comply, I said, ‘Well, you know we have two colonies, I presume – Viridis, at 61 Cygni, and Starhome, at Epsilon Eridani. As part of the terms of foundation and support, we’re entitled to cultural survey missions there, and there are two departments in the Bureau which analyse the data received: my own, which is mainly cultural, and Jacky Demba’s which is mainly technical. We’re – well – middlemen. We pass the information on to centres of study which make use of it.’
‘I see. Now – if I’ve got this right – your preoccupationwith the cultural aspects means you’re more involved with Viridis than Starhome.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Amplify, please.’
‘Well … Viridis was planted about a hundred and ten years ago by a group of neo-Roussellians who wanted to return to a pre-technological civilization. On Earth they’d become a laughing-stock, of course, but since the sociologists were pressing the government to aid the study of alternative solutions to the problem of organizing a mass society, their colony was approved and subsidized.’
‘They got on well?’
‘Oh yes. About half of our modern music, drama and verse is Viridian in origin. Their society has a—’ I fumbled for the right word. ‘A depth, a richness, which ours lacks.’
‘You prefer their society to the Starhomers’?’
‘Well – yes. Starhome was founded to see how far a technologically oriented society could be driven. Of course in their own way the Starhomers have done exceedingly well; their level of mechanization is amazing. And, naturally, my department deals with the social consequences of this – well – experiment.’
‘I see,’ Klabund murmured. ‘Mr Vincent, have you ever been a member of the Stars Are For Man League?’
8
I’d always regarded myself as quick-witted, but the speed of my reaction to that astonished me as much as it did Tinescu and Klabund. Presumably it was the last kick of the chronodrin shot bin Ishmael had given me to bring my subjective time up to Tau Cetian level which enabled me to bite back the furious denial that sprang to my lips.Obviously, the question had been designed to catch me by surprise and force an unpremeditated response. Why?
Logic said:
Klabund’s using a lie-detector on me.
So, purely as a matter of principle – because I do not accept that society has the right to invade the mental privacy of any sane individual – I shot out my hand across the shiny surface of the desk and swept aside the squat bulk of the addresser, which was large enough to conceal from anyone sitting in my chair something as compact as a lie-detector.
And I was right. A shallow oblong device with lights on the side turned towards Klabund lay exposed; from it, wires fine as spider’s webs trailed towards me and down the front of the desk.
Cold anger welled up inside me. I said in my most frigid voice, ‘Inspector, what’s the idea of putting that thing on me without my permission?’
Klabund was embarrassed. He swallowed hard and glanced appealingly at Tinescu. The chief coughed.
‘I asked for it, Roald,’ he said.
‘What the hell
for?
’
‘Because you’re the reason why the conveyor system has been fed League literature.’
I digested that slowly. ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ I said at last.
‘No? I wish you hadn’t caught on so quickly, Roald – I’d have liked to see confirmation of the denial you didn’t get around to making …’ Tinescu wiped his face with a weary hand.
‘All right, I’d better give it to you
Similar Books
