Paycheck. Part 29

That Briskin, he thought furiously for the millionth time. 'Look,' he said to his cousin; the Attorney General sat in the easy chair across from him. 'There's the nerd now.' He pointed to the TV screen.

Leon Lait, munching on his cheeseburger, said, 'It's abominable.'

'You know where he's broadcasting from? Way out in deep s.p.a.ce, out past Pluto. At their farthest-out transmitter, which your FBI guys will never in a million years manage to get to.'

'They will,' Leon a.s.sured him. 'I told them they have to get him - the President, my cousin, personally says so.'

'But they won't get him for a while,' Max said. 'Leon, you're just too d.a.m.n slow. I'll tell you something. I got a s.h.i.+p of the line out there, the Dwight D Dwight D. Eisenhower Eisenhower. It's all ready to lay an egg on them, you know, a big bang, just as soon as I pa.s.s on the word.'

'Right, Max.'

'And I hate to,' Max said.

The telecast had begun to pick up momentum already. Here came the Spotlights, and sauntering out onto the stage pretty Peggy Jones, wearing a glittery bare-shoulder gown, her hair radiant. Now we get a top-flight striptease Now we get a top-flight striptease, Max realized, by a real fine-looking girl by a real fine-looking girl. Even he sat up and took notice. Well, maybe not a true striptease, but certainly the opposition, Briskin and his staff, had s.e.x working for them, here. Across the room his cousin the Attorney General had stopped munching his cheeseburger; the noise came to a halt, then picked up slowly once more.

On the screen, Peggy sang: It's Jim-Jam, for whom I am, America's best-loved guy.

It's Jim-Jam, the best one that am, The candidate for you and I.

'Oh G.o.d,' Max groaned. And yet, the way she delivered it, with every part of her slim, long body ... it was okay. 'I guess I got to inform the Dwight D. Eisenhower Dwight D. Eisenhower to go ahead,' he said, watching. to go ahead,' he said, watching.

'If you say so, Max,' Leon said. 'I a.s.sure you, I'll rule that you acted legally; don't worry none about that.'

'Gimme the red phone,' Max said. 'That's the armored connection that only the Commander-in-Chief uses for top-secret instructions. Not bad, huh?' He accepted the phone from the Attorney General. 'I'm calling General Tompkins and he'll relay the order to the s.h.i.+p. Too bad, Briskin,' he added, with one last look at the screen. 'But it's your own fault; you didn't have to do what you did, opposing me and all.'

The girl in the silvery dress had gone now, and Jim-Jam Briskin had appeared in her place. Momentarily, Max waited.

'Hi, beloved comrades,' Briskin said, raising his hands for silence; the canned applause - Max knew that no audience existed in that remote spot - lowered, then rose again. Briskin grinned amiably, waiting for it to die.

'It's a fake,' Max grunted. 'Fake audience. They're smart, him and his staff. His rating's already way up.'

'Right, Max,' the Attorney General agreed. 'I noticed that.'

'Comrades,' Jim Briskin was saying soberly on the TV screen, 'as you may know, originally President Maximilian Fischer and I got along very well.'

His hand on the red phone, Max thought to himself that what Jim-Jam said was true.

'Where we broke,' Briskin continued, 'was over the issue of force - of the use of naked, raw power. To Max Fischer, the office of President is merely a machine, an instrument, which he can use as an extension of his own desires, to fulfill his own needs. I honestly believe that in many respects his aims are good; he is trying to carry out Unicephalon's fine policies. But as to the means. That's a different matter.'

Max said, 'Listen to him, Leon.' And he thought, No matter what he says I'm going to keep on; n.o.body is going to stand in my way No matter what he says I'm going to keep on; n.o.body is going to stand in my way, because it's my duty; it's the job of the office because it's my duty; it's the job of the office, and if you got to be President like I am you'd do it, too and if you got to be President like I am you'd do it, too.

'Even the President,' Briskin was saying, 'must obey the law; he doesn't stand outside it, however powerful he is.' He was silent for a moment and then he said slowly, 'I know that at this moment the FBI, under direct orders from Max Fischer's appointee, Leon Lait, is attempting to close down these stations, to still my voice. Here again Max Fischer is making use of power, of the police agency, for his own ends, making it an extension-'

Max picked up the red phone. At once a voice said from it, 'Yes, Mr President. This is General Tompkins' C of C.'

'What's that?' Max said.

'Chief of Communications, Army 600-1000, sir. Aboard the Dwight D Dwight D. Eisenhower Eisenhower, accepting relay through the transmitter at the Pluto Station.'

'Oh yeah,' Max said, nodding. 'Listen, you fellas stand by, you understand? Be ready to receive instructions.' He put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. 'Leon,' he said to his cousin, who had now finished his cheeseburger and was starting on a strawberry shake. 'How can I do it? I mean, Briskin is telling the truth.'

Leon said, 'Give Tompkins the word.' He belched, then tapped himself on the chest with the side of his fist. 'Pardon me.'

On the screen Jim Briskin said, 'I think very possibly I'm risking my life to speak to you, because this we must face: we have a President who would not mind employing murder to obtain his objectives. This is the political tactic of a tyranny, and that's what we're seeing, a tyranny coming into existence in our society, replacing the rational, disinterested rule of the homeostatic problem-solving Unicephalon 40-D which was designed, built and put into operation by some of the finest minds we have ever seen, minds dedicated to the preservation of all that's worthy in our tradition. And the transformation from this to a one-man tyranny is melancholy, to say the least.'

Quietly, Max said, 'Now I can't go ahead.'

'Why not?' Leon said.

'Didn't you hear him? He's talking about me me. I'm the tyrant he has reference to. Keerist.' Max hung up the red phone. 'I waited too long.

'It's hard for me to say it,' Max said, 'but - well, h.e.l.l, it would prove he's right.' I know he's right anyhow I know he's right anyhow, Max thought. But do But do they they know it? Does the public know it? I can't let them find out about me know it? Does the public know it? I can't let them find out about me, he realized. They should look up to their President, respect him. Honor him. No wonder I show up so bad in the Telscan poll. No wonder Jim Briskin decided to run against me the moment he heard I was in office. They really do know about me; they sense it, sense that Jim-Jam is speaking the truth. I'm just not Presidential caliber They should look up to their President, respect him. Honor him. No wonder I show up so bad in the Telscan poll. No wonder Jim Briskin decided to run against me the moment he heard I was in office. They really do know about me; they sense it, sense that Jim-Jam is speaking the truth. I'm just not Presidential caliber.

I'm not fit, he thought, to hold this office to hold this office.

'Listen, Leon,' he said, 'I'm going to give it to that Briskin anyhow and then step down. It'll be my last official act.' Once more he picked up the red phone. 'I'm going to order them to wipe out Briskin and then someone else can be President. Anyone the people want. Even Pat n.o.ble or you; I don't care.' He jiggled the phone. 'Hey, C of C,' he said loudly. 'Come on, answer.' To his cousin he said, 'Leave me some of that shake; it's actually half mine.'

'Sure, Max,' Leon said loyally.

'Isn't no one there?' Max said into the phone. He waited. The phone remained dead. 'Something's gone wrong,' he said to Leon. 'Communications have busted down. It must be those aliens again.'

And then he saw the TV screen. It was blank.

'What's happening?' Max said. 'What are they doing to me? Who's Who's doing it?' He looked around, frightened. 'I don't get it.' doing it?' He looked around, frightened. 'I don't get it.'

Leon stoically drank the milkshake, shrugging to show that he had no answer. But his beefy face had paled.

'It's too late,' Max said. 'For some reason it's just too late.' Slowly, he hung up the phone. 'I've got enemies, Leon, more powerful than you or me. And I don't even know who they are.' He sat in silence, before the dark, soundless TV screen. Waiting.

The speaker of the TV set said abruptly, 'Psuedo-autonomic news bulletin. Stand by, please.' Then again there was silence.

Jim Briskin, glancing at Ed Fineberg and Peggy, waited.

'Comrade citizens of the United States,' the flat, unmodulated voice from the TV speaker said, all at once. 'The interregnum is over, the situation has returned to normal.' As it spoke, words appeared on the monitor screen, a ribbon of printed tape pa.s.sing slowly across, before the TV cameras in Was.h.i.+ngton, DC Unicephalon 40-D had spliced itself into the co-ax in its usual fas.h.i.+on; it had pre-empted the program in progress: that was its traditional right.

The voice was the synthetic verbalizing-organ of the homeostatic structure itself.

'The election campaign is nullified,' Unicephalon 40-D said. 'That is item one. The stand-by President Maximilian Fischer is cancelled out; that is item two. Item three: we are at war with the aliens who have invaded our system. Item four. James Briskin, who has been speaking to you-'

This is it, Jim Briskin realized.

In his earphones the impersonal, plateau-like voice continued, 'Item four. James Briskin, who has been speaking to you on these facilities, is hereby ordered to cease and desist, and a writ of mandamus mandamus is issued forthwith requiring him to show just cause why he should be free to pursue any further political activity. In the public interest we instruct him to become politically silent.' is issued forthwith requiring him to show just cause why he should be free to pursue any further political activity. In the public interest we instruct him to become politically silent.'

Grinning starkly at Peggy and Ed Fineberg, Briskin said, 'That's it. It's over. I'm to politically shut up.'

'You can fight it in the courts,' Peggy said at once. 'You can take it all the way up to the Supreme Court; they've set aside decisions of Unicephalon in the past.' She put her hand on his shoulder, but he moved away. 'Or do you want to fight it?'

'At least I'm not cancelled out,' Briskin said. He felt tired. 'I'm glad to see that machine back in operation,' he said, to rea.s.sure Peggy. 'It means a return to stability. That That we can use.' we can use.'

'What'll you do, Jim-Jam?' Ed asked. 'Go back to Reinlander Beer and Calbest Electronics and try to get your old job back?'

'No,' Briskin murmured. Certainly not that. But - he could not really become politically silent; he could not do what the problem-solver said. It simply was not biologically possible for him; sooner or later he would begin to talk again, for better or worse. And And, he thought, I'll bet Max can't do what it says either ... neither of us can I'll bet Max can't do what it says either ... neither of us can.

Maybe, he thought, I'll answer the writ of I'll answer the writ of mandamus; mandamus; maybe I'll contest it. A counter suit ... I'll sue Unicephalon 40-D in a court of law. Jim-Jam Briskin the plaintiff, Unicephalon 40-D the defendant maybe I'll contest it. A counter suit ... I'll sue Unicephalon 40-D in a court of law. Jim-Jam Briskin the plaintiff, Unicephalon 40-D the defendant. He smiled. I'll need a good lawyer for that. Someone quite a bit better than Max Fischer's top legal mind, cousin Leon Lait I'll need a good lawyer for that. Someone quite a bit better than Max Fischer's top legal mind, cousin Leon Lait.

Going to the closet of the small studio in which they had been broadcasting, he got his coat and began to put it on. A long trip lay ahead of them back to Earth from this remote spot, and he wanted to get started.

Peggy, following after him, said, 'You're not going back on the air at all at all ? Not even to finish the program?' ? Not even to finish the program?'

'No,' he said.

'But Unicephalon will be cutting back out again, and what'll that leave? Just dead air. That's not right, is it, Jim? Just to walk out like this ... I can't believe you'd do it, it's not like you.'

He halted at the door of the studio. 'You heard what it said. The instructions it handed out to me.'

'n.o.body leaves dead air going,' Peggy said. 'It's a vacuum, Jim, the thing nature abhors. And if you don't fill it, someone else will And if you don't fill it, someone else will. Look, Unicephalon is going back off right now.' She pointed at the TV monitor. The ribbon of words had ceased; once more the screen was dark, empty of motion and light. 'It's your responsibility,' Peggy said, 'and you know it.'

'Are we back on the air?' he asked Ed.

'Yes. It's definitely out of the circuit, at least for a while.' Ed gestured toward the vacant stage on which the TV cameras and lights focussed. He said nothing more; he did not have to.

With his coat still on, Jim Briskin walked that way. Hands in his pockets he stepped back into the range of the cameras, smiled and said, 'I think, beloved comrades, the interruption is over. For the time being, anyhow. So ... let's continue.'

The noise of canned applause - manipulated by Ed Fineberg - swelled up, and Jim Briskin raised his hands and signalled the nonexistent studio audience for silence.

'Does any of you know a good lawyer?' Jim-Jam asked caustically. 'And if you do, phone us and tell us right away - before the FBI finally manages to reach us out here.'

In his bedroom at the White House, as Unicephalon's message ended, Maximilian Fischer turned to his cousin Leon and said, 'Well, I'm out of office.'

'Yeah, Max,' Leon said heavily. 'I guess you are.'

'And you, too,' Max pointed out. 'It's going to be a clean sweep; you can count on that. Cancelled.' He gritted his teeth. 'That's sort of insulting. It could have said retired retired.'

'I guess that's just its way of expressing itself,' Leon said. 'Don't get upset, Max; remember your heart trouble. You still got the job of stand-by, and that's the top stand-by position there is, Stand-by President of the United States, I want to remind you. And now you've got all this worry and effort off your back; you're lucky.'

'I wonder if I'm allowed to finish this meal,' Max said, picking at the food in the tray before him. His appet.i.te, now that he was retired, began almost at once to improve; he selected a chicken salad sandwich and took a big bite from it. 'It's still mine,' he decided, his mouth full. 'I still get to live here and eat regularly - right?'

'Right,' Leon agreed, his legal mind active. 'That's in the contract the union signed with Congress; remember back to that? We didn't go out on strike for nothing.'

'Those were the days,' Max said. He finished the chicken salad sandwich and returned to the eggnog. It felt good not to have to make big decisions; he let out a long, heartfelt sigh and settled back into the pile of pillows propping him up.

But then he thought, In some respects I sort of enjoyed making decisions. I mean, it was In some respects I sort of enjoyed making decisions. I mean, it was- He searched for the thought. It was different from being a stand-by or drawing unemployment. It had It was different from being a stand-by or drawing unemployment. It had- Satisfaction, he thought. That's what it gave me. Like I was accomplis.h.i.+ng something That's what it gave me. Like I was accomplis.h.i.+ng something. He missed that already; he felt suddenly hollow, as if things had all at once become purposeless.

'Leon,' he said, 'I could have gone on as President another whole month. And enjoyed the job. You know what I mean?'

'Yeah, I guess I get your meaning,' Leon mumbled.

'No you don't,' Max said.

'I'm trying, Max,' his cousin said. 'Honest.'

With bitterness, Max said, 'I shouldn't have had them go ahead and let those engineer-fellas patch up that Unicephalon; I should have buried the project, at least for six months.'

'Too late to think about that now,' Leon said.

Is it? Max asked himself. Max asked himself. You know, something could You know, something could happen happen to Unicephalon to Unicephalon 40- 40-D. An accident An accident.

He pondered that as he ate a piece of green-apple pie with a wide slice of longhorn cheese. A number of persons whom he knew could pull off such tasks ... and did so, now and then.

A big, nearly-fatal accident, he thought. Late some night, when everyone's asleep and it's just me and it awake here in the White House. I mean, let's face it; the aliens showed us how Late some night, when everyone's asleep and it's just me and it awake here in the White House. I mean, let's face it; the aliens showed us how.

'Look, Jim-Jam Briskin's back on the air,' Leon said, gesturing at the TV set. Sure enough, there was the famous, familiar red wig, and Briskin was saying something witty and yet profound, something that made one stop to ponder. 'Hey listen,' Leon said. 'He's poking fun at the FBI; can you imagine him doing that now now? He's not scared of anything.'

'Don't bother me,' Max said. 'I'm thinking.' He reached over and carefully turned the sound of the TV set off.

For thoughts such as he was having he wanted no distractions.

A Little Something for us Tempunauts

Wearily, Addison Doug plodded up the long path of synthetic redwood rounds, step by step, his head down a little, moving as if he were in actual physical pain. The girl watched him, wanting to help him, hurt within her to see how worn and unhappy he was, but at the same time she rejoiced that he was there at all. On and on, toward her, without glancing up, going by feel ... like he's done this many times, she thought suddenly. Knows the way too well. Why?

'Addi,' she called, and ran toward him. 'They said on the TV you were dead. All of you were killed!'

He paused, wiping back his dark hair, which was no longer long; just before the launch they had cropped it. But he had evidently forgotten. 'You believe everything you see on TV?' he said, and came on again, haltingly, but smiling now. And reaching up for her.

G.o.d, it felt good to hold him, and to have him clutch at her again, with more strength than she had expected. 'I was going to find somebody else,' she gasped. 'To replace you.'

'I'll knock your head off if you do,' he said. 'Anyhow, that isn't possible; n.o.body could replace me.'

'But what about the implosion?' she said. 'On reentry; they said-'

'I forget,' Addison said, in the tone he used when he meant, I'm not going to discuss it. The tone had always angered her before, but not now. This time she sensed how awful the memory was. 'I'm going to stay at your place a couple of days,' he said, as together they moved up the path toward the open front door of the tilted A-frame house. 'If that's okay. And Benz and Crayne will be joining me, later on; maybe even as soon as tonight. We've got a lot to talk over and figure out.'

'Then all three of you survived.' She gazed up into his careworn face. 'Everything they said on TV ...' She understood, then. Or believed she did. 'It was a cover story. For - political purposes, to fool the Russians. Right? I mean, the Soviet Union'll think the launch was a failure because on reentry-'

'No,' he said. 'A chrononaut will be joining us, most likely. To help figure out what happened. General Toad said one of them is already on his way here; they got clearance already. Because of the gravity of the situation.'

'Jesus,' the girl said, stricken. 'Then who's the cover story for?'