Citadel, Page 2

ofextreme personal freedom. There are no arbitrary laws governingexpression, worship, the possession of personal weapons, or the rightsof personal property. The state is construed to be a mechanism of publicservice, operated by the Body Politic, and the actual regulation andregimentation of society is accomplished by natural socio-economic lawswhich, of course, are both universal and unavoidable.

  "We pride ourselves on the high status of the individual in comparisonto the barely-tolerable existence of the state. We do, naturally, haveordinances and injunctions governing crimes, but even these are usuallysuperseded by civil action at the personal level."

  Marlowe leaned forward a trifle. "Forgetting exact principles for amoment, ud Klavan, you realize that the actuality will sometimes strayfrom the ideal. Our citizens, for example, do not habitually carryweapons except under extraordinary conditions. But that is a civiltaboo, rather than a fixed amendation of our constitution. I have nodoubt that some future generation, mores having shifted, will, forexample, revive the _code duello_."

  Ud Klavan nodded. "Quite understood, thank you, Marlowe."

  * * * * *

  "Good. Now, to proceed:

  "Under conditions such as those, the state and its agencies _cannot_ laydown a fixed policy of any sort, and expect it to be in the leastpermanent. The people will not tolerate such regulation, and with eachnew shift in social mores--and the institution of any policy is itselfsufficient to produce such a shift within a short time--successivepolicies are repudiated by the Body Politic, and new ones must beinstituted."

  Marlowe leaned back and spread his hands. "Therefore," he said with arueful smile, "it can fairly be said that we _have_ no foreign policy,effectively speaking. We pursue the expedient, ud Klavan, and hope forthe best. The case which Mr. Mead and I are currently considering istypical.

  "The Union, as you know, maintains a General Survey Corps whose task itis to map the galaxy, surveying such planets as harbor alien races orseem suitable for human colonization. Such a survey team, for example,first established contact between your people and ours. Exchangeobservation rights are worked out, and representatives of both races aregiven the opportunity to acquaint themselves with the society of theother.

  "In the case of unoccupied, habitable planets, however, the state'sfunction ceases with the filing of a complete and definitive survey atthe Under-Ministry for Emigration. The state, as a state, sponsors nocolonies and makes no establishments except for the few staging baseswhich are maintained for the use of the Survey Corps. We have not yetfound any need for the institution of an offensive service analogous toa planetary army, nor do we expect to. War in space is possible onlyunder extraordinary conditions, and we foresee no such contingency.

  "All our colonization is carried out by private citizens who apply toMr. Mead, here, for options on suitable unoccupied planets. Mr. Mead'sfunction is to act as a consultant in these cases. He maintains a rosterof surveyed human-habitable planets, and either simply assigns therequested planet or recommends one to fit specified conditions. The costof the option is sufficient to cover the administrative effort involved,together with sufficient profit to the government to finance furthersurveys.

  "The individual holding the option is then referred to Emigration, whichprovides copies of a prospectus taken from the General Survey report,and advertises the option holder's asking prices on subdivisions. Again,there is a reasonable fee of a nature similar to ours, devoted to thesame purposes.

  "The state then ceases to have any voice in the projected colonizationwhatsoever. It is a totally private enterprise--a simple real estateoperation, if you will, with the state acting only as an advertisingagency, and, occasionally, as the lessor of suitable transportation fromEarth to the new planet. The colonists, of course, are under ourprotection, maintaining full citizenship unless they requestindependence, which is freely granted.

  "If you would like to see it for purposes of clarification, you'rewelcome to examine our file on Martin Holliday, a citizen who is fairlytypical of these real estate operators, and who has just filed an optionon his second planet." Smiling, Marlowe extended the folder.

  "Thank you, I should like to," ud Klavan said, and took the file fromMarlowe. He leafed through it rapidly, pausing, after asking Marlowe'sleave, to make notes on some of the information, and then handed itback.

  "Most interesting," ud Klavan observed. "However, if you'll enlightenme--This man, Martin Holliday; wouldn't there seem to be very littleincentive for him, considering his age, even if there is the expectationof a high monetary return? Particularly since his first attempt, whilenot a failure, was not an outstanding financial success?"

  Marlowe shrugged helplessly. "I tend to agree with you thoroughly, udKlavan, but--" he smiled, "you'll agree, I'm sure, that one Earthman'sboredom is another's incentive? We are not a rigorously logical race, udKlavan."

  "Quite," the Dovenilid replied.

  V.

  Marlowe stared at his irrevocable clock. His interphone light flickered,and he touched the switch absently.

  "Yes, Mary?"

  "Will there be anything else, Mr. Secretary?"

  "No, thank you, Mary. Good night."

  "Good night, sir."

  There was no appeal. The day was over, and he had to go home.

  He stared helplessly at his empty office, his mind automaticallycounting the pairs of departing footsteps that sounded momentarily asclerks and stenographers crossed the walk below his partly-open window.Finally he rolled his chair back and pushed himself to his feet.Disconsolate, he moved irresolutely to the window and watched the peopleleave.

  Washington--aging, crowded Washington, mazed by narrow streets, carryingthe burden of the severe, unimaginative past on its grimyarchitecture--respired heavily under the sinking sun.

  The capital ought to be moved, he thought as he'd thought every night atthis time. Nearer the heart of the empire. Out of this steamy bog. Outof this warren.

  His heavy lips moved into an ironical comment on his own thoughts. Noone was ever going to move the empire's traditional seat. There was toomuch nostalgia concentrated here, along with the humidity. Some day,when the Union was contiguous with the entire galaxy, men would stillcall Washington, on old, out-of-the-way Earth, their capital. Man wasnot a rigorously logical race, as a race.

  The thought of going home broke out afresh, insidiously avoiding thebarriers of bemusement which he had tried to erect, and he turnedabruptly away from the window, moving decisively so as to be able tomove at all. He yanked open a desk drawer and stuffed his jacket pocketswith candy bars, ripping the film from one and chewing on its end whilehe put papers in his brief case.

  Finally, he could not delay any longer. Everyone else was out of thebuilding, and the robots were taking over. Metal treads spun along thecorridors, bearing brooms, and the robot switchboards guarded thecommunications of the Ministry. Soon the char-robots would be bustlinginto this very office. He sighed and walked slowly out, down the emptyhalls where no human eye could see him waddling.

  * * * * *

  He stepped into his car, and as he opened the door the automaticrecording said "Home, please," in his own voice. The car waited until hewas settled and then accelerated gently, pointing for his apartment.

  The recording had been an unavoidable but vicious measure of his own.He'd had to resort to it, for the temptation to drive to a terminal, toan airport, or rocket field, or railroad station--_anywhere_--had becomeexcruciating.

  The car stopped for a pedestrian light, and a sports model bouncedjauntily to a stop beside it. The driver cocked an eyebrow at Marloweand chuckled. "Say, Fatso, which one of you's the Buick?" Then the lightchanged, the car spurted away, and left Marlowe cringing.

  He would not get an official car and protect himself with its licensenumber. He would not be a coward. He _would_ not!

  His fingers shaking, he tore the film from another candy bar.

  * * * *
*

  Marlowe huddled in his chair, the notebook clamped on one broad thigh byhis heavy hand, his lips mumbling nervously while his pencil-pointchecked off meter.

  "Dwell in aching discontent," he muttered. "No. Not that." He stareddown at the floor, his eyes distant.

  "Bitter discontent," he whispered. He grunted softly with breath thathad to force its way past the constricting weight of his hunched chest."Bitter dwell." He crossed out the third line, substituted the new one,and began to read the first two verses to himself.

  "_We are born of Humankind-- This our destiny: To bitter dwell in discontent Wherever we may be._

  "_To strangle with the burden Of that which heels us on. To stake our fresh beginnings When frailer breeds have done._"

  He smiled briefly, content.