James Hogan - Entoverse

Her approach was still to affect a more sympathetic attitude toward his views than she felt. “Maybe the Federation people had the right idea,” she said. “But they only played at being leaders. They never had to learn about real survival. They only had Thuriens to deal with.”

“Absolutely,” Baumer agreed.

At one point he stopped and pointed at the entrance to a solid-looking frontage on the thoroughfare that they were passing along. It had large double doors, and two men who looked like guards could be seen inside. One of them was in the act of opening an inner door to admit a man carrying a wrapped bundle under his arm. “People are getting nervous,” Baumer said to Gina. “They’re putting their valuables in deposit banks that are springing up, like that one, and the receipts are becoming negotiable currency.” Evidently he didn’t approve. “A few profit from the insecurity of many. Manipulators of money… We know what it leads to. We’ve seen it all before, on Earth.”

With JEVEX no longer coordinating the planet’s distribution system, the flow of supplies and commodities into Shiban and its vicinity had become erratic. However, some entrepreneurial spirits were emerging among the Jevlenese, and had organized workforces of mechanics to recover and fix all kinds of defunct vehicles from the piles abandoned around the city. Others were setting up retail outlets and building up a growing trade with various sources, near and far, that they had sought out and worked deals with. “Exploiting people’s needs,” Baumer sneered. “Everyone has a right to eat. The Ganymeans should be taking care of all that.”

Looking into a store displaying extravagant jewelry and clothes in what appeared to be a fashionable quarter, he seethed. “They could have been building a just society, based on equality. But everyone has to be made to work together for it to succeed. The Ganymeans can’t see it. They haven’t got the background. Somehow we have to get the authority to put the right people in control.”

Gina had heard it all before. It was the envy and rage of the frustrated intellectual at the capriciousness with which a system based on free choice bestowed its rewards. Traditional patterns of privilege, right, and might didn’t matter. Who would succeed and who would fail was decided, often with little discernible logic or reason, by the collective whims and preferences of everyone. But those who could produce nothing that would sell in the marketplace, and who had nothing of appeal to offer at the ballot box, were unable to compete. Their only recourse was coercion. If their worth and wisdom went unrecognized, they would use the state and its legislative power to make people need them.

They bought a couple of hot, crisp breads filled with chopped meat and vegetables in a spicy sauce from a corner vendor. Baumer said they were called grinils. They ate them sitting on a low wall nearby, drinking from mugs of a dark, bitterish brew tolerably close to coffee, and watching the life in the street pass by.

“What kinds of Jevlenese have you gotten to know in the time you’ve been here?” Gina asked absently.

“Besides the historical societies, you mean? There’s one character at the university here that I think you should meet.”

Gina shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean in connection with what I’m here for, particularly. Just in general. Socially, when you’re off-duty. That kind of thing.”

“Oh, different kinds, you know,” Baumer replied vaguely. “Why? What kind were you interested in?”

“No kind especially. I just wondered what people get up to here. I might have come to research a book, but there’s life to live, too. You don’t exactly get to visit another world every day.” She munched her grinil and sipped casually. “You’ve got some pretty strong views on the way Jevlen should be organized. I’d have thought you’d try getting to know Jevlenese who think the same way.”

He looked at her oddly. “Are you interested in meeting people like that?”

“Maybe, if you know any. What they’re heading for is a mess. Who wouldn’t be interested in trying to do something about it?”

Baumer continued staring at her for a few seconds longer, but then changed the subject. “You’re spending a lot of time with those UNSA scientists at PAC, I notice,” he said.

“They’re an island of something that’s familiar, I suppose,” Gina answered. “But it’s not the same as getting out and seeing Jevlen, is it? And I don’t really follow what they’re talking about most of the time, anyway.”

“How far do you think they’ll go?” Baumer asked her. “I mean, how far will they go in importing Ganymean science to Earth? I take it that’s what their mission here is all about.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t put it as strongly as that,” Gina replied. “They’re just sifting through the basics, as far as I can tell. I haven’t heard anything about plans for a firm program. What did you mean? Setting up something comprehensive there, planetwide, like JEVEX was here?”

“I suppose it’s a question that will have to be asked sooner or later,” Baumer said. “In fact I’d be amazed if it hadn’t been asked already.”

“Do you think it would be a good thing? I mean, look at the situation it’s resulted in here. And we’re still a long way from solving that.”

“Then bring it back. What good has taking it away done? None. It’s only made everything worse.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, no question.”

“So you’d have no qualms about switching JEVEX on again tomorrow,” Gina concluded.

“It should be available freely everywhere,” Baumer said. “Part of the Ganymeans’ task should be to provide it.”

“You don’t have any reservations about JEVEX, then?” Gina asked.

“Reservations? Why should I?” A strange, distant light came into Baumer’s eyes, and his face softened into one of its rare smiles. “JEVEX is wonderful. It solves all needs and problems. It’s the people’s right. Isn’t it their property?”

Gina looked at him curiously. “How do you know so much about it? Surely it was switched off before you got here.”

Baumer’s attention returned suddenly to present. He seemed confused. “Well, yes, of course. It’s what I hear from the Jevlenese-the ones that I talk to in my studies.” He took her empty mug and stood up. Gina watched as he returned both the mugs to the stall, but when he returned she decided to drop the subject.

A group of about a dozen or so zanily dressed youths, with vivid purple makeup and orange hair molded into spikes and rings, was gathering on an opposite corner. “Come on,” Baumer said, sounding wary. “Let’s be moving on.”

But as he and Gina moved away along the street, the group began moving also. After they had turned two corners and crossed a shabby court beneath the supports of a traffic flyover, it was clear that they were being followed. Baumer quickened the pace but said nothing.

“What’s going on?” Gina muttered.

“I’m not sure.”

“Who are the punks?”

“It could be any one of the cults that you find in this place. There are scores of them.”

They were in a distinctly run-down area now, entering a dingy alley with premises closed down and deserted, few people about, and little chance of help if things turned ugly. Gina wondered fleetingly why Baumer should have come this way. Surely historical societies weren’t to be found in such surroundings.

Behind, the pursuers were getting closer and were uttering a chorus of murmuring that grew into a chant, punctuated by jeers.

“Do you understand what they’re saying?” Gina asked, scared.

“They’ve spotted us as Terrans. Apparently we’re not popular. It sounds like the equivalent of ‘Yanks go home.’”