Norman Spinrad

"The present leadership of the High Republic, or more accurately the deadheads and simpletons who profane the seats of the Council Chamber with their unclean buttocks, has not the vaguest notion of the true threat to Heldon,"

the speaker was saying. Though there was a faint trace of superciliousness about his lips and a light hint of mockery in his voice, there was something about the very sardonic humor of his bright black eyes that drew Feric's attention and approval.

"Your pleasure, Trueman?" the waiter inquired, divert-ing Feric's attention momentarily.

"A mug of beer and a salad of lettuce, carrots, cucum-bers, tomatoes, onions, and whatever other vegetables you may have at hand that are fresh and uncooked."

The waiter gave Feric a somewhat arch look as he departed. Meat was, of course, the traditional staple in Heldon as elsewhere, and upon occasion Feric indulged himself with this questionable fare, since fanatic dedication to vegetarianism seemed to him both impractical and perhaps a bit .unwholesome. Nevertheless, he knew full well that progress up the food chain from ' 'getable mat-34

ter to meat concentrated the level of radioactive contamination of foodstuffs, and he therefore eschewed flesh as much as possible. His genetic purity was not his to squan-der on the indulgence of his appetite; in a higher sense it was the common property of the community of true men and demanded to be guarded as a racial trust. A peculiar look from a waiter now and then was not enough to keep him from sticking to his racial duty.

"And of course your buttocks would better grace the seat of power, eh Bogel?" bellowed a bluff fellow whose face was somewhat reddened by overconsumption of beer.

His comrades showed their appreciation of this remark with crude, albeit good-natured, laughter.

The speaker Bogel seemed to have been brought up short for a moment. When his reply came, Feric sensed that it sprang not from inborn instinct but from a sharp, if somewhat cold and mechanical, intellectualization.

"I seek no personal power for myself," Bogel said impishly. "However if such a fine specimen as yourself urges a Council seat upon me, what an ingrate I would be to thwart your desires!"

This drew somewhat pallid laughter. Feric directed closer attention to the men attending Bogel. They seemed divided up into two rough classes: those few who were paying serious and rapt attention, and those in the majority who seemed to regard the dapper little man with his bright eyes and thin saturnine features as some sort of comic entertainment. Nevertheless, both groups seemed to be composed of the same sort of fellow by and large: middle-aged, two-fisted beer drinkers, shopkeepers, craftsmen and farmers by the look of them—plain honest folk whose understanding of affairs of state could hardly be deemed profound. It seemed to Feric as if this Bogel overestimated his audience, putting on, as he did, an air of intellectual sarcasm and superiority in a public tavern.

"Thus might a Dominator speak!" another fellow roared. There was more loud laughter, but this tune tinged with a certain uneasy quality.

For the first time, a certain fire became evident in Bogel's eyes.

"Thus might speak a Universalist sympathizer or a man enmeshed in a dominance pattern," he said. "The Human Renaissance Party is the deadly enemy of the Dom and his Universalist dupes and lackeys; no one denies this, least of all the scum themselves. Ridicule of the Party or 35

its leadership therefore serves the interest of the Dominators. How do we know that such words were not put in your mouth by an inhuman master?"

With this Bogel smiled, indicating that this was meant as jest. However this subtlety seemed totally lost on the poor fellow's audience; countenances darkened and a certain surly atmosphere began to build. Clearly this Bogel, while obviously possessed of a keen mind, had no instinct for moving men in the desired direction with oratory.

"You dare suggest that I am on a Dominator's string, you pathetic wretch!"

Bogel seemed somewhat lost; certainly he had not wanted to provoke anger against himself, but just as certainly that was rapidly becoming the result of his words. At this point, the waiter arrived with Feric's salad and beer. Feric sipped diffidently at the beer and picked at the food, intent now, for some reason he barely understood, on studying the drama being played out before him.

Bogel smiled somewhat weakly. "Come, come, my friend," he said. "Don't be so solemn and serious-minded.

I accuse no one here of being on a Dominator's string.

Though, on the other hand, how can any of us ever be sure that anyone else is not enmeshed in a dominance pattern? That's the insidious horror of the creatures: true men such as ourselves cannot fully trust each other as long as one wretched Dom still lives within the borders of Heldoni"

This seemed to mollify the crowd somewhat, at least to the point where Bogel was allowed to continue.