Alfred Bester - The Demolished Man

"And?" Reich muttered.

"The occasion has arisen, Mr. Reich, and I believe Blonn may be

available. Briefly..." "It says here." "Briefly, Mr. Reich, Monarch is hiring so many Espers that I have

suggested we set up a special Esper Personnel Department, headed by a 1st

like Blonn, to devote itself exclusively to interviewing telepaths." "He's wondering why you can't handle it." "I have given you the background to explain why I cannot handle the

job, Mr. Reich. I am a 2nd Class Esper. I can telepath normal applicants rapidly and efficiently, but I cannot handle other Espers with the same speed and economy. All Espers are accustomed to using mind-blocks of varying effectiveness depending on their rating. It would take me one hour per 3rd for an efficient screening interview. It would take me three hours per 2nd. I could not possibly peep through the mind-block of a 1st. We must hire a 1st like Blonn for this work. The cost will be enormous, of course, but the necessity is urgent."

"What's so urgent?" Reich said. "For heaven's sake! Don't give him that picture! That isn't diversion. It's waving a red flag. He's sore enough now."

"I have my job to do, Madam." To Reich, the Chief said: "The fact is, sir, we are not hiring the best Espers. The D'Courtney Cartel has been taking the cream of the Espers away from us. Over and over again, through lack of proper facilities, we have been mouse-trapped by D'Courtney into bidding for inferior people while D'Courtney has quietly appropriated the best."

"Damn you!" Reich shouted. "Damn D'Courtney. All right. Set it up. And tell this Blonn to start mouse-trapping D'Courtney. You'd better start, too."

Reich tore out of Personnel and over to Sales-city. The same unpleasant information was waiting for him. Monarch Utilities & Resources was losing the gut-fight with the D'Courtney Cartel. It was losing the fight in every sector-city---Advertising, Engineering, Research, Public Relations. There was no escaping the certainty of defeat. Reich knew his back was to the wall.

He returned to his own office and paced in a fury for five minutes. "It's no use," he muttered. "I know I'll have to kill him. He won't accept merger. Why should he? He's licked me and he knows it. I'll have to kill him and I'll need help. Peeper help."

He flipped on the v-phone and told the operator; "Recreation."

A sparkling lounge appeared on the screen, decorated in chrome and enamel, equipped with game tables and a bar dispenser. It appeared to be and was used as a recreation center. It was, in fact, headquarters of Monarch's powerful espionage division. The Recreation Director, a bearded scholar named West, looked up from a chess problem, then rose to attention.

"Good morning, Mr. Reich."

Warned by the formal `Mister,' Reich said: "Good morning, Mr. West.

Just a routine check. Paternalism, you know. How's amusement these days?"

"Modulated, Mr. Reich. However, I must complain, sir. I think there's entirely too much gambling going on." West stalled in a fussy voice until two bona fide Monarch clerks innocently finished their drinks and departed. Then he relaxed and slumped into his chair. "All clear, Ben. Shoot."

"Has Hassop broken the confidential code yet, Ellery?"

The peeper shook his head.

"Trying?"

West smiled and nodded.

"Where's D'Courtney?"

"En route to Terra, aboard the `Astra'."

"Know his plans? Where he'll be staying?"

"No. Want a check?"

"I don't know. It depends..."

"Depends on what?" West glanced at him curiously. "I wish the

Telepathic Pattern could be transmitted by phone, Ben. I'd like to know what you're thinking at." Reich smiled grimly. "Thank God for the phone. At least we've got that

protection from mind readers. What's your attitude on crime, Ellery?" "Typical." "Of anybody?" "Of the Guild. The Guild doesn't like it, Ben." "So what's so hot about the Esper Guild? You know the value of money,

success... Why don't you clever-up? Why do you let the Guild do your thinking?"

"You don't understand. We're born in the Guild. We live with the Guild. We die in the Guild. We have the right to elect Guild officers, and that's all. The Guild runs our professional lives. It trains us, grades us, sets ethical standards, and sees that we stick to them. It protects us by protecting the layman, the same as medical associations. We have the equivalent of the Hippocratic Oath. It's called the Esper Pledge. God help any of us if we break it... as I judge you're suggesting I should."

"Maybe I am," Reich said intently. "Maybe I'm hinting it could be worth your while to break the peeper pledge. Maybe I'm thinking in terms of money ... more than you or any 2nd Class peeper ever sees in a lifetime."

"Forget it, Ben. Not interested."

"So you bust your pledge. What happens?"

"We're ostracized."

"That's all? Is that so awful? With a fortune in your pocket? Smart peepers have broken with the Guild before. They've been ostracized. So what? Clever-up, Ellery."

West smiled wryly: "You wouldn't understand, Ben."

"Make me understand."

"Those ousted peepers you mention... like Jerry Church. They weren't so smart. It's like this..." West considered. "Before surgery really got started, there used to be a handicapped group called deaf-mutes."

"No-hear no-talk?"

"That's it. They communicated by a manual sign language. That meant they couldn't communicate with anybody but deaf-mutes. Understand? They had to live in their own community or they couldn't live at all. A man goes crazy if he can't talk to friends."

"So?"

"Some of them started a racket. They'd tax the more successful deaf-mutes for weekly hand-outs. If the victim refused to pay, they'd ostracize him. The victim always paid. It was a choice of paying or living in solitary until he went mad."

"You mean you peepers are like deaf-mutes?"

"No, Ben. You normals are the deaf-mutes. If we had to live with you alone, we'd go mad. So leave me alone. If you're nursing something dirty, I don't want to know."

West cut off the phone in Reich's face. With a roar of rage, Reich snatched up a gold paper-weight and hurled it into the crystal screen. Before the shattered fragments finished flying, he was in the corridor and on his way out of the building.

His peeper secretary knew where he was going. His peeper chauffeur knew where he wanted to go. Reich arrived in his apartment and was met by his peeper house-supervisor who at once announced early luncheon and dialed the meal to Reich's unspoken demands. Feeling slightly less violent, Reich stalked into bis study and turned to bis safe, a shimmer of light in the corner.

It was simply a honey-comb paper rack turned out of temporal phrase with a single-cycle beat. Each second when the safe phase and the temporal phase coincided, the rack pulsed with a brilliant glow. The safe could only be opened by the pore-pattern of Reich's left index finger which was irreproducible.

Reich placed the tip of his finger in the center of the glow. It faded and the honey-comb rack appeared. Holding his finger in place, he reached up and took down a small black notebook and a large red envelope. He removed his index finger and the safe pulsed out of phase again.

Reich flipped through the pages of the notebook... ABDUCTION... ANARCHISTS... ARSONISTS... BRIBERY (PROVEN)... BRIBERY (POTENTIAL)... Under (POTENTIAL) he found the names of fifty-seven prominent people. One of them was Augustus Tate, Esper Medical Doctor 1. He nodded with satisfaction.

He tore open the red envelope and examined its contents. It contained five sheets of closely written pages in a handwriting that was centuries old. It was a message from the founder of Monarch Utilities and the Reich clan. Four of the pages were lettered: PLAN A, PLAN B, PLAN C, PLAN D. The fifth was headed INTRODUCTION. Reich read the ancient spidery cursive slowly: