A. van Vogt - The Empire of Isher

Cayle said, “I’ll report you to your firm.”

The officer shrugged. “Complaint forms are available in the lounge. You’ll have to attend a hearing at our Ferd office at your own expense.”

“I see,” said Cayle grimly. “It works out very nicely for you, doesn’t it?”

“I didn’t make the rules,” was the reply. “I just live under them.”

Quivering, Cayle walked back to the salon where he had last seen the weapon shop girl. But she was still not in sight. He began to tense himself for the landing, now less than half an hour away. Below he could see that the shadows of approaching darkness were lengthening over the world of Isher. The whole eastern sky looked dark and misty as if out there, beyond the far horizon, night had already come.

A few minutes after Cayle had walked away from her, the girl closed her book and strolled in a leisurely fashion into a private telestat booth. She locked the door, then pulled the switch that disconnected the instrument from the main board in the captain’s cabin.

She took one of the rings from her fingers, manipulated it into a careful integration with the government ’stat. A woman’s face took shape on the screen, said matter-of-factly, “Information Center.”

“Connect me with Robert Hedrock.”

“One moment, please.”

The man’s face that came almost immediately onto the screen was rugged rather than handsome but it looked sensitive as well as strong and there was a pride and vitality in every muscular quirk, in every movement, that was startling to see. The personality of the man poured forth from the image of him in a ceaseless, magnetic stream. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet though resonant:

“Coordination department.”

“This is Lucy Rail, guardian of Imperial Potential, Cayle Clark.” She went on to describe briefly what had happened to Cayle. “We measured him as a callidetic giant and are watching him in the hope that his rise will be so rapid that we can use him in our fight to prevent the empress from destroying the weapon shops with her new time weapon. This is in accord with the directive that no possibility be neglected provided there is someone available to do something about it. I think he should be given some money.”

“I see.” The virile face was thoughtful. “What is his village index?”

“Middling. He may have a hard time in the city for a while. But he’ll get over his small town attitudes quickly. The trouble he is involved in now will toughen him. But he needs help.”

There was decision on Bedrock’s face. “In such cases as this the smaller the amount of money the greater the subsequent gratitude—” he smiled—“we hope. Give him fifteen credits and let him regard it as a personal loan from you. Provide no other protection of any kind. He’s on his own completely. Anything else?”

“Nothing.”

“Goodbye then.”

It required less than a minute for Lucy Rail to restore the ’stat to its full government status.

Cayle watched the face of the landlady as she looked him over. This decision was out of his hands.

He actually thought of it as that—a decision. The question was, would she spot him as village? He couldn’t be sure. Her expression, when she nodded, was enigmatic. The room she rented him was small but it cost only a credit-fourth a day.

Cayle lay down on the bed and relaxed by the rhythm system. He felt amazingly well. The theft of his money still stung but it was no longer a disaster. The fifteen credits the weapon shop girl had given him would tide him over for a few weeks. He was safe. He was in Imperial City. And the very fact that the girl had loaned him money and given him her name and address must prove something. Cayle sighed with pleasure, finally, and went out to get some supper.

He had noticed an automat at the corner. It was deserted except for a middle-aged man. Cayle bought a steak from the instantaneous cooking machine, and then deliberately sat down near the other diner.

“I’m new here,” he said conversationally. “Can you give me a picture of the city? I’d appreciate it.”

It was a new tack, for him, admitting naiveté. But he felt very sure of himself, and very convinced that he needed data more than he needed to protect his own self-conscious pride. He was not too surprised when the stranger cleared his throat importantly and then said:

“New to the big city, eh? Been anywhere yet?”

“No. Just arrived.”

The man nodded, half to himself, a faint gleam of interest in his gray eyes. Cayle thought cynically: “He’s wondering how he can take advantage of me.”

The other spoke again, his tone half-ingratiating now. “My name is Gregor. I live just around the corner in a skytel. What do you want to know?”

“Oh,” Cayle spoke quickly, “where’s the best residential district? Where’s the business section? Who’s being talked about?”

Gregor laughed. “That last—the empress, of course. Have you ever seen her?”

“Only on the ’stats.”

“Well, you know then that she’s just a kid trying hard to be tough.”

Cayle knew nothing of the kind. Despite his cynicism, he had never thought of any member of the ruling family of Isher except in terms of their titles. Automatically, he rejected this man’s attempt to make a human being out of Imperial Innelda.

He said, “What about the empress?”

“They’ve got her trapped in the palace—a bunch of old men who don’t want to give up power.”

Cayle frowned, dissatisfied with the picture. He recalled the last time he had seen the empress on the ’stats. It was a willful face as he remembered it; and her voice had had in it great pride as well as determination. If any group was trying to use her as a tool, then they had better watch out. The young empress had a mind of her own.

Gregor said, “You’ll want to try the games. That’s on the Avenue of Luck. And then there’s the theaters, and the restaurants, and—”

Cayle was losing interest. He should have known better than to expect that a casual acquaintance in a cheap residential district would be able to tell him what he wanted to know. This man had a small mind. What he had to say would not be important.

The man was continuing: “I’ll be very happy to take you around. I’m a little short myself right now but—”

Cayle smiled wryly. So that was the extent of this man’s machinations. It was part of the corrupt pattern of Isher life, but in this case such a mean and miserable part that it didn’t matter. He shook his head and said gently:

“I’ll be happy to go out some other time. Tonight, I’m kind of tired—you know, long trip —just got in.”

He applied himself to his food, not at all unhappy. The conversation had done him no harm, in fact, he felt slightly better. Without ever having been in Imperial City, he had a better idea than Gregor as to what was, and what was not, sensible.

The meal cost more than he had expected. But even that he decided not to regret. After his experiences on the plane he needed sustenance. He went out onto the street contentedly. The neighborhood swarmed with children, and though it was already dark the play went on relentlessly.

Cayle paused for a moment to watch them. Their ages seemed to vary from about six to twelve years. Their play was of the group-rhythm type taught in all the schools, only this was heavily overlaid with a sex-motif that he had never seen before. He was startled, then rueful.

“Good heavens!” he thought. “I had the reputation for being a devil of a fellow. To these kids I’d be just plain naive.”

He went up to his room, conscious that the young man over whom the elders of Glay had many times shaken their heads was really a simple, honest soul. He might come to a bad end but it would be because he was too innocent, not the other way around.