Damon Knight - Orbit 15

“Of course,” said Sam. “Mine too.”

“I wonder why he bothers,” said Willie, looking at the door through which Jennings had left. Hundreds of others were leaving now, hurrying back to their dorms.

Sam was very unhappy. She wondered why Jennings had behaved the way he did; she felt that in some way the audience had let Jennings down. She didn’t know what to do. “I feel sorry for him,” she said.

“Sorry?” said Willie, snorting contemptuously. “For Jennings? Well, I don’t. Just so long as we don’t get punishment this week. I’m glad about that.”

“Want to look at the planes?”

“No,” said Willie, looking around, noticing the other men who were taking furtive looks at Sam. “Let’s go to lunch.”

Mac stood with the rest of the Soldiers in the immense ritual chamber. Jennings had promised them all that there would be no punishment that week; even so, Mac had risen before the alarm bell and hurried to the assembly hall. Delgado, the trustie in the white uniform, had shouted into Mac’s cell, but Mac had already showered and shaved, and was walking back from the lavatory. “I’m not in there, Mr. Delgado,” said Mac cheerfully.

“I see that, Mac,” said Delgado sullenly. “And if I could think of a good reason for you to be awake so early, I might not put you on report.”

“It’s Sevenday, that’s all. I just don’t want to be late.”

“I can see that you’re very devout,” said Delgado. “Just watch it, that’s all.”

“Sure, Mr. Delgado.” Mac finished dressing and walked slowly to the assembly hall; he was one of the first to arrive, and he chatted in a low voice with some of the other Soldiers. They all wondered whether Jennings would act as oddly during the ritual as he had in the Fiveday lecture.

“I was sorely tempted not to come this morning,” said one of the Soldiers.

“Me too,” said another. “If we’re not going to be punished, well, to tell you the truth, these rituals get to be a little thick after a while.”

“I watch them like movies,” said Mac. “It’s kind of an interesting thing, if you approach it the right way.”

“You’re nuts,” said the first Soldier. Mac only smiled.

Jennings arrived early. Not all the worshipers had assembled, but Jennings nevertheless ordered the great doors to be closed. “It’s a good thing he said no punishment,” thought Mac. Jennings greeted the various orders, and was saluted in return. The ritual continued in its prescribed formula. Mac looked toward the Lions, but couldn’t make out Sam; he looked toward the Ravens and thought he saw Willie, but he wasn’t sure.

“I want to say something,” said Jennings, at the beginning of his sermon. His tone was conversational, a sudden contrast to the deep, stilted tone he had used during the rest of the ritual. “Be honest. How many of you would attend these rituals if they weren’t mandatory? Just clap your hands.” There was a loud roar of applause. “Now how many would stay in their cells, or visit with friends?” The applause was somewhat softer. “Now,” said Jennings, sitting on one of the steps leading to the altar, “we’ll try again. How many of you would come here on Sevenday mornings voluntarily?” This time the applause was much quieter. “All right. That’s good enough. We’ll stop there. Nama, Nama Sebesio.”

The congregation called back, “Nama, Nama Sebesio.”

Jennings stood up, shaking one fist. “You damn fools! You just told me you damn well wouldn’t come here if I didn’t make you do it, yet you keep on muttering your responses. Don’t you feel a little crazy, doing that?”

“No,” thought Mac, “I don’t feel dumb at all. You’re making us come here. You’re still making us give the responses.”

Some of the people in the vast hall began to whisper. Near Mac, some people, men and women, began to weep. There was a sudden rustle of noise. Jennings looked around angrily. “Get out. Get the hell out of here,” he said loudly. The assembly hall was so huge that Jennings could not possibly see the people lined against the walls; they could not hear him, but a wave of motion began from the center of the hall and moved toward the exits. Mac smiled sadly. He walked along, his head bowed in the dim light.

“It’s a very interesting psychological experiment,” thought Mac. “He’s given us such a rigid life, and now he’s removing the laws we’ve always used as props. It’s pathetic, when you realize how simple he is. And these poor people! They’re helpless. Their granite idol is wobbling on its legs. But you can’t tell them anything. You can’t prove that there’s no danger, that Jennings won’t fall and crush them. The only thing left is to sit back and enjoy it.”

Mac looked back over his shoulder. Hordes of people followed him toward the doors. Thin beams of spotlights still outlined the crooked form of Jennings, who waited alone in the center of the assembly hall. Mac sighed. He seemed to be alone in understanding the power of Jennings, and the man’s arbitrary cruelty. “Goodbye, Pater palratus,” thought Mac. “Maybe really goodbye.”

Willie went to Mac’s dorm and rode up the elevator to Mac’s eighty-fifth-floor cell. Mac stood by the transparent wall. Willie sat on the cot. “I don’t like it,” he said. “It made me feel nervous. I don’t like it at all.”

“You’re not supposed to like it,” said Mac, not turning around. “Jennings is doing it on purpose. He’s trying to shake us up, for some reason. Don’t pay any attention to his act. It’s as phony as everything else he does. It’s just that now he’s being more obvious about it.”

“Well, then, that’s what I don’t like,” said Willie. “I’ll go along with it all, as long as I know what’s happening. But, God, if Jennings is going to change all of a sudden . . .”

Mac faced his friend. His expression was amused. Willie frowned; he didn’t see anything to laugh about. “Jennings isn’t changing, all of a sudden,” said Mac. “That’s what I just said. He’s consistent with his plan, whatever that is. You’re playing right into his hands.”

Willie sighed. “We have to play right into his hands,” he said.

“Then don’t worry about it.”

Sevenday afternoon was quieter and tenser than usual. People stood in small groups, talking in low, frightened voices. Jennings’ behavior at the lecture and at the ritual chamber had disoriented them. Willie complained of an upset stomach and a persistent jittery feeling. Mac told him to relax, or Jennings would lead Willie and the rest of the crowd into a mass breakdown.

“So why would Jennings do that?” asked Willie. Mac could only smile and shrug.

The two men strolled over to Sam’s dorm, about an hour before the usual time for punishment and reinforcement. Generally, everyone spent that particular time of the week alone in his cell, in the anticipation that he had been marked for punishment. This week, with Jennings’ promise of no punishment for anyone, people were out and visiting earlier. The movie for that week was .38 Caliber, with Dan Calvin as Sheeky Bordinaro. Willie didn’t want to miss any of it.

Sam, Mac, and Willie sat in the rec room and waited. Mac went to the snack bar and got them soft drinks and potato chips. The time passed slowly, and the rec room began to fill up with people. Sam held their seats, and the two men went over to the pinball machines. Their favorite machine, a garishly colored model called Hi-Lo Express, was idle. Mac took his turn first. “Sam’s good on this machine,” he said, after the ball registered a meager five hundred points for him and then dropped out of play.