Orson Card - Songmaster

When have I loafed? she asked. A negative report now, on her first job-especially one this easy-could destroy her hope of a government career.

I have complaints from fourteen people. Every single person in this office except you and me, Kyaren. They're tired of watching you playing games. Studying up on ancient history and playing computer games when you should be trying to help old people cope with inflation and the fluctuations of the economy. We aren't here for fun, Kyaren, we're here to help people. Do you understand?

She nodded. That's what I'm trying to do.

I'll give you a negative report, but I won't fire you unless there's any more trouble. You understand? Three years of perfect work and you get the negative report taken off your record. It's something you can live down- if you just stick to business in the future.

She left. At home Josif was appalled.

Fourteen complaints?

That's what he said.

Kyaren, you could have an intimate sexual relationship with a lamp in the middle of the lunchroom and you'd have a hard time getting three complaints!

What do they have against me? she asked.

Josif's face grew somber. Me, he said.

What?

Me. You had problems enough. Adding me to them- do you know how many women have tried to get me into bed? There's something about a known homosexual that's irresistible to a certain kind of woman. They regard him as a challenge. Me as a challenge. And then you come along and suddenly we're spending weekends together. The ones that aren't jealous are probably revolted to think of what perverted things I must be making you do.

It isn't you.

Then what is it?

They're afraid.

Of what?

How should I know?

Josif got up from the bed, went to the door, leaned on it. Kyaren, it's me. We've got to stop. When you leave tonight that's it.

He sounded sincere. She wondered why even the thought of leaving him and not coming back made her feel as if she were falling from someplace very high.

I'm not leaving tonight, she said. I'm leaving in the morning.

No. For your own good.

She laughed incredulously. My own good!

He looked at her from the door, his face very serious.

My own good is to stay right here.

He shook his head.

Do you really mean this? she asked, unbelieving. Just like that, you decide I'm supposed to go because you think it'll be better for me?

Sounds pretty stupid, doesn't it, he said.

And they started laughing and he came back to the bed and suddenly they weren't laughing, just holding each other and realizing that this wasn't something they could simply end when it became inconvenient.

Josif, she said.

Mmm? His face was buried in her hair, and he was sucking on a strand of it.

Josif, I frightened them. They're afraid of something.

You're a pretty mean-looking woman.

There's something pretty funny about it. Why should death-entry information be restricted?

They couldn't think of a reason.

And so the next day at lunch Josif had a sheet of paper -something little used in the computer center-and on it were ten names and tea numbers. Can you use this? he asked.

What are they?

Dead people. Today's first entries. They should be in your computer by now, since I punched them all in. That's their identification numbers, and date of entry is a few hours ago. That's basically all the date-of-entry code would have told you anyway. Can you do anything with them?

Kyaren didn't dare bring the paper with her to the office-anything as unusual as paper would attract attention, and that was not what she needed. So she memorized the first three and left the list in the lavatory on the floor below. On her first break she came down, but instead of getting three more names she went to Josif.

Are you sure you copied these down correctly?

Josif looked at the names and numbers, punched them into his terminal, and the vitals showed up. All definitely dead.

On my terminal, she said, they're still very much alive.

Josif got up from his terminal and she followed him to the corridor, where Josif spoke softly.

We should have guessed it immediately. It's a scam, Kyaren. They're paying those pensions to somebody, but not to these people. Because they're dead.

Kyaren leaned against the wall. Do you know how much money that is?

Josif was not impressed. Come on, he said.

Where?

Out of this building, immediately.

He started pulling her along. She came willingly enough, but completely confused. Where are we going?

He wouldn't answer. They did not go to either of their rooms. Instead they headed for the airport, which was on the eastern edge of the complex. This isn't the time for a weekend in Mexico, she said.

Just punch in sick. They stood before the ticket terminal and she did as he said, using her office code. Then he stood to the terminal and punched out two tickets for himself, charging them to his own account.

I can pay for my own, she said.

He didn't answer. He just took the tickets and they boarded the flit headed for Maraketch. It was when they were in flight that he finally began explaining.

It isn't Just your office, Kyaren, he said. It's mine, too. This thing has to involve a lot of people, in Death, in Disbursements, in Pensions, who knows where else. If they caught you on a simple query, they surely have a program to notice that you just queried the names of three people whose deaths were registered today, and that immediately afterward I queried the same names. The computer knows that somebody knows there is a discrepancy. And I don't know how long we'd live if we stayed there.

They wouldn't do anything violent, would they? Kyaren asked.

Josif only kissed her and said, Wherever you grew up, Kyaren, must be paradise.

Where are we going? she asked again.

To report it, of course. Let the police handle it. Let Babylon do it. They have the power to freeze everything and everyone there while they investigate. We don't have any power at all.

What if we're wrong?

Then we go looking for jobs about a billion lights away from here.

They told their story to five different officials before they finally found someone who was willing to take responsibility for a decision. The man was not introduced to them. But he was the first to listen to them without fidgeting, without looking uncomfortable or worried or distrustful

Only three names? he finally asked, when Josif and Kyaren had explained everything.

They nodded. We didn't think it was safe to wait around looking for more.

Absolutely right, the man said. He nodded, as if in imitation of their nods a moment before. Yes, it warrants an investigation. And they watched as he picked up a phone, stroked in a code, and started giving orders in a jargon that they couldn't understand.

His face fascinated Kyaren, though she was not sure why. He looked unremarkable enough-not a large man, not particularly handsome, but not unusually ugly, either. His hair medium length, his eyes medium brown, his expression medium pleasant. Kyaren was aware of a constant change, not so much in his face as in her perception of his face; like an optical illusion, his face kept switching back and forth between absolute trustworthiness and cold menace. No one had told them his title or even his name- he was just the one they passed a knotty problem to, and he didn't seem to mind.

Finally he was through with his call and turned his attention back to Josif and Kyaren. Very good work, he said.

Then he began to talk to them, very quietly, about themselves. He told Kyaren things about Josif that Josif had never mentioned: how Josif had attempted suicide twice after Bant left him; how Josif failed four classes at his university in his last term, yet turned in a dissertation that the faculty had no choice but to vote unanimously to accept; how the faculty thereupon booted him out of the school with the worst possible recommendation letters so that it was impossible for him to get work in his field.