Part 5 (1/2)

”Not that, either.”

”Named after a famous Russian prince at the court of Catherine the Great.”

”No!” cried Smith. ”Potemkin: Post-temporal Kinespection. It's a great boon to democracy because no one is ever taken into custody on suspicion. Every arrest is based on absolute evidence of a crime committed, witnessed by the Second Squad. There hasn't been a case of an innocent person taken in to Minitern during the last twelve years. And Potemkin's a great time-saver, too; the Second Squad doesn't have to worry about searches and staking out locations and all that sort of thing.”

”'Time-saver,'” snorted Mihalik. ”That's rich.”

”All this began just about the same time your second Man from Mars took over,” said Cheryl thoughtfully.

Smith hesitated. ”Yes,” he said, ”some coincidence, isn't it?”

”And they're using this Potemkin to keep tabs on us this very second,” said Mihalik.

”Well,” said Smith, ”only if our evening together leads to some overt criminal activity.”

”And if it does, they'd be busting down the door right this minute.”

”I guess so.”

”So they knew exactly when Cheryl and I would appear at that Agency party.”

”Of course,” said Smith. ”That's why I was hurrying you out of there.”

It was Mihalik's turn to be disgusted. ”Then how the h.e.l.l did we manage to escape?” he demanded.

There was a long, empty silence in the room. ”There does seem to be some sort of paradox there,”

admitted Smith. Mihalik wished that he had more champagne, but he didn't want to ask Smith for it.

”You've never explained why you think we're in trouble,” said Cheryl.

”Because you're unpersons, that's why,” said Smith. ”And here I am, feeding unpersons and chatting with them as if they ever existed.”

Mihalik gently pushed his chair away from the table. ”Well,” he said quietly, ”I think I've had my limit of this. I think it's time to find Dr. Waters. He must be in that Agency Building somewhere.”

Smith barked a loud raucous laugh. ”Dr. Waters!” he said in amazement. ”Why do you think Dr.

Waters would spare time to see you?”

Mihalik glared across the table. ”Dr. Waters is the head of my project,” he said in a low, tightly controlled voice. ”He a.s.sumed the responsibility for my safety. We became pretty good friends duringmy training. He owes something to me, and I owe something to him and to the project.”

”Dr. Waters probably isn't interested in your project any longer,” said Smith with some amus.e.m.e.nt.

”He has much more important things to worry about. Dr. Waters is the Man from Mars.”

”Dr. Bertram A. Waters?” said Mihalik, stunned.

”Of course,” said Smith. ”But you saw his picture and didn't recognise him.”

”See, Frank?” said Cheryl. ”Didn't I say it looked like him?”

Mihalik shook his head. ”I don't believe it. First, Dr. Waters is a dedicated scientist; he couldn't care less about ruling the world. Second, that picture shows a guy a whole lot older that the man I know.”

Smith nodded. ”Dr. Waters left our present twelve years ago, to go into the future for some kind of vital work. He stayed in the future for about sixteen years, and then returned to 1984. So he's older than if he had just lived in the present all the time.”

Mihalik was trying to sort out this new information. ”And you say that now he's the boss of the world?”

”That's right.”

”And he's the head of the Agency, and that means he's given the order to hunt Cheryl and me down?”

”Right again.”

”I'll never believe that,” said Mihalik with finality.

Smith shrugged. ”Suit yourself. I've tried to help you; but if you insist on sticking your own head into a noose, there's nothing more I can do.” Kalila appeared with liqueur gla.s.ses and a crystal decanter. ”We'll take that in the other room,” said Smith. He indicated to his guests that they should precede him into the parlor. Mihalik and Cheryl took seats on a sofa, and Smith dropped into an overstuffed armchair. They sipped the sweet liqueur for a few moments and studied each other.

”All right,” said Cheryl, ”I'm willing to accept all this for the sake of argument. Now please explain those three slogans we see all over the place.”

This was a safer topic for discussion, and Smith seemed more relaxed. ”They belong to Minipeep, the Ministry of People. There is a ma.s.sive program under way at the moment to resettle great numbers of people; the poor souls come from lands more crowded and poverty-stricken than here. Not everyone in the world is as rich and comfortable as we have it in London, I'm afraid; but the Agency is taking care of the situation. The goal is to have every individual in the world fitted into just such a rewarding life before the turn of the century. I think we'll succeed.”

”That's truly amazing,” said Cheryl. ”Then that's why we've seen so few people about. Most of your population's been resettled.”

”That's precisely it,” said Smith, with a touch of pride. ”I have a small part in the process, myself.”

”And then the first slogan means--”

Smith interrupted. ”It means simply that the less people there are, the more there is for the remaining folk.”

Cheryl shook her head. ”Your slogan's wrong. It should be 'fewer'”

”I don't follow you,” said Smith.

”LESS IS MORE is a phrase from a poem by Robert Browning,” said Cheryl. ”It was used as a general statement about art by the architect Mies van der Rohe. If Minipeep is using it the way you mean, it should be FEWER IS MORE. Or have you resettled grammar, as well?”

Smith looked at Mihalik and Cheryl and mused, ”A fool and a pedant; what awful company to be arrested in.”

The sentiment pa.s.sed over Mihalik's head. ”The second slogan, MARS IS EARTH, obviously refers to the Man from Mars.”

”That's your first point of the evening, Mr. Mihalik,” said Smith sourly.

”But I don't understand TOMORROW IS YESTERDAY.”

Smith finished the last of his liqueur. ”It becomes simple enough when you realize that the resettlement I mentioned takes place not in s.p.a.ce, but in time. We find new homes for the huddled ma.s.ses and thewretched refuse on some bright, prosperous day in some long-ago year. They are given a new start in the colonial Empire of the Past, and we are relieved of the burden of their welfare.”

The implications of this casual statement horrified both Mihalik and Cheryl. They had spent only a year imprisoned in the past, on one ”bright, prosperous day,” and only their mutual love and will to survive saved them from madness. They considered what it must be like for the ”colonials,” who were doomed to spend the remainder of their lives repeating the same day endlessly, without hope of alteration or rescue.

”That's the catch,” said Mihalik finally. ”I knew we'd hear it sooner or later.”

Smith pretended he didn't know what Mihalik meant. ”We simply don't see it that way,” he said. ”In any event, you have no right to make judgments about the way we handle our affairs; you don't even belong to this world. I suppose your world is governed better.”