Hwen Wu affected surprise. “Let us not be discourteous, Kung-Chien. I am told that, judging by the character of the man, he’ll insist on meeting our foremost expert in the field, and that is yourself.”
“Oh, very well. But can’t it wait? I’m in the middle of something important. I’m about to re-establish contact with the Oblique Entity.”
“Indeed?” Hwen Wu clasped his hands within his voluminous sleeves. “I thought it had passed out of range?”
“So it had, using former methods. But this new apparatus of mine uses the principle of direct, all-senses contact.”
“Is that not a trifle dangerous?” Hwen Wu inquired delicately.
Shiu Kung-Chien shrugged.
“There’s no particular hurry concerning the Earthman,” the Prime Minister admitted after a pause. “He still has to be put through language indoctrination. Would the experiment be compromised if I were to stay and…”
“Watch by all means,” Kung-Chien told him, “though there’ll be little to see.”
The servitors signalled that all was in readiness. Shiu Kung-Chien, Retort City’s greatest researcher into the phenomenon of time, entered a glassy sphere which, though transparent from the outside, encased its occupant in apparent darkness. He murmured something, his words being conveyed to the cybernetic controller.
Hwen Wu gazed placidly on the scene. He saw the scientist go rigid, as though suddenly paralysed. His eyes stared sightlessly, his ears were without sound, even his skin no longer felt the touch of his garments or the pressure of the floor under his feet. His body remained, but his senses – and therefore his mind – had been transferred hundreds of light-years away in a direction which no telescope could show: obliquely in time.
“What shall we do, Father?”
Ex-Minister Hueh Shao looked at Su-Mueng, realising with a pang what a handsome young man his son had become.
“Do?” he repeated in astonishment. “This is your enterprise. What did you intend?”
Su-Mueng answered lamely. “I had hoped for your guidance, Father. Perhaps we could escape from the city, go to Earth.”
“Hmm. Possibly, but I doubt it – and you obviously know nothing of the conditions there. We’d be unlikely to survive.”
No matter; that had been the lesser of Su-Mueng’s hopes. Vaguely, he had envisaged he and his father making a fight of it together. Suddenly getting over his initial stupefaction, he rose to the occasion and spoke with new resolve.
“Then return with me to the Production Retort. It’s honeycombed with little-used areas, deserted spaces. I’ll find a hideout for you there.”
“What, exchange one prison for another? Where’s the advantage in that?” The older man frowned.
“No, that’s not it.” Abruptly the real issue that lay before him crystallised in Su-Mueng’s mind; the heat of passion entered his voice. “There’s work to be done. We must work to overthrow the structure of society!”
His father stared at him as though he had gone mad. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he exclaimed in a shocked whisper.
“But isn’t that why you committed your crime and tried to save me from my fate?” Su-Mueng rejoindered. “Do you not feel the injustice of our way of life? One part of the population being forced to content itself with production, otherwise enjoying only crude entertainments, which the other part leeches off this work force?”
“But we’re maintaining the highest state of civilisation!” spluttered Hueh Shao. “The arts and the sciences have been carried to the peak of sophistication here in the Leisure Retort, to say nothing of the graciousness of our life-style. How could we devote ourselves to this if we had to spend time producing material things for ourselves?”
Su-Mueng was taken aback by this response, which was not what he had expected. “The inhabitants of the Lower Retort could also enjoy what we have here, if they were given the opportunity,” he said. “It’s unfair that it should be denied them. All should share, in production as well as in higher things.”
“But then neither production nor refinement could be carried as far,” his father replied with a wave of his hand. His voice fell, became sombre. “I confess that my motives in keeping you in the Leisure Retort were purely selfish. I’d wanted my son to live as I’d lived. No feeling of a general injustice entered my mind – that, presumably, would only occur to someone who saw both sides of the divide.”
“Then come down to the Lower Retort and see for yourself!”
Hueh Shao sighed. “It seems that I set in train more than I dreamed when I hid you in my secret apartments. Social revolution, now!”
“Are you agreed, then? If we leave quickly perhaps no one will learn of your escape for some time.”
“They know of it already,” Hueh Shao told him, indicating the panels by the door. On one of them an amber light glowed. “The time-displacement machine has reported your interference of it.”
Su-Mueng whirled and gasped. Running to the panels, he pulled free the model of Retort City he used as a time-control and brandished it vigorously.
“Quickly – before they get here. Perhaps I can out-phase us with this – make us invisible!”
Hueh Shao’s face was a mixture of sadness, pity and regret. He followed his son into the corridor outside the apartment, where Su-Mueng fiddled desperately with his time device, producing a chiaroscuro of flickering lights.
“There!” he pronounced with satisfaction. “We’re back-phased a full half minute. If we move fast we can be in the Lower Retort within the hour.”
Again Hueh Shao hesitated, and then seemed to come to a decision and nodded, moving with Su-Mueng through the scented passages, staying within the field of his gadget. Su-Mueng walked rapidly, excitedly, but even before they left the section they encountered what the older man had known they would encounter, but which he had optimistically supposed they would not.
It was a rare sight in the Leisure Retort: four citizens in the garb of law enforcement officials, looking oddly severe in the tight-fitting blue jackets and high collars, coming along the corridor with calm self-confidence.
Their leader carried a small cylinder which he held before him like a torch. Even as he noticed this Su-Mueng felt a wave of dizziness and realised with dismay that he’d been phased back into normative time. His hand darted to his double retort, but then went limp as he recognised the greater power of the other’s instrument.
The leader looked from one fugitive to the other, a hint of recognition crossing his features. “Would you kindly accompany us?” he asked politely. “Regretfully, we must presume that you’re in infringement of a city ethic.”
The blue-jacketed men turned and retraced their steps, leaving their prisoners to follow them of their own accord. Su-Mueng was sick to think how futile all his work had been.
From the moment when they passed through the ship’s outer doors and into the incredible space city, a phantasmagoria of rich impressions greeted Rond Heshke and Leard Ascar. The ship they had been travelling in, Heshke realised, was austere and functional compared with the voluptuous standards of these people.
The air was invigoratingly fresh and laden with captivating scents. They had emerged from some kind of dock into which the ship, apparently, fitted snugly; and the spectacle before them was bewildering in its complexity. Level gave way to level and split-level; screens and interrupted walls ran hither and thither with the complexity of a maze, offering glimpses of gardens and parks arrayed in riotous colours.
The place breathed the essence of luxury. Blooms and delicate orchids flowered everwhere, springing from walls and ceilings. It was like being in some primitive conception of Heaven.