“Goddamn country,” the youth declared. “Nothing will ever save them.”
“I see, I see,” said Andrei, nodding sympathetically. “But you do know that we no longer recognize the Experiment?”
The youth shrugged his powerful shoulders. “That’s all the same to me. I like it here. Only I don’t like being stuck in one place all the time. I get bored in town. And Mr. Quejada has suggested I could go on an expedition…”
“For a start I want to send him to Son’s group,” said Quejada. “He’s a strong youngster, he has some sort of experience, and you know how hard it is to find men to work in the jungle.”
“Well then,” said Andrei. “Very glad to have met you, Ketcher. I like the look of you, and I hope things will continue that way.”
Ketcher nodded awkwardly and got up. Quejada got up too, panting.
“One more thing,” said Andrei, raising his finger. “I’d like to warn you, Ketcher, that the City and the Glass House are interested in you continuing your studies. We don’t need people who simply do things—we have enough of them here. We need qualified people. I’m sure you’d make an excellent oil engineer… What’s his Intelligence Index like, Quejada?”
“Eighty-seven,” said Quejada, chuckling.
“There, you see… I have grounds for my confidence in you.”
“I’ll try my best,” Douglas Ketcher mumbled, and looked at Quejada.
“That’s all we have to say,” said Quejada.
“And that’s all I have to say,” said Andrei. “The best of luck to you… And let Vareikis in to see me.”
As usual, Vareikis didn’t walk in but advanced into the office one part at a time, repeatedly looking back through the crack of the half-open door. Then he closed the door firmly, hobbled soundlessly over to the desk, and sat down. The expression on his face became more emphatically doleful and the corners of his lips turned all the way down.
“Just so I don’t forget,” said Andrei. “That woman from the finance office was here.”
“I know,” Vareikis said quietly. “Her daughter.”
“Yes. Well then, I have no objections.”
“For Quejada,” Vareikis half-asked, half-stated.
“No, I think for the data processors.”
“All right,” said Vareikis, and pulled a notepad out of his inside pocket. “Regulation 017,” he said in a quiet voice.
“Yes?”
“The latest assessment has been completed,” Vareikis said in an even quieter voice. “Eight employees have been identified with an index below the required level of 75.”
“Why 75? According to the regulation the minimum intelligence index is 67.”
“According to a clarification from the President’s Personal Chancellery for Personnel”—Vareikis’s lips barely even moved—“the minimum intelligence index for employees of the President’s Personal Chancellery for Science and Technology is 75.”
“Ah, so that’s it…” said Andrei, scratching the top of his head. “Hmm… Well now, that’s logical.”
“In addition,” Vareikis continued, “five of the eight are even ranked below 67. Here is the list.”
Andrei took the list and looked through it. Half-familiar names, two men and six women… “Oh, come on now,” he said, frowning. “Amalia Torn… That’s my Amalia! What sort of hocus-pocus is this?”
“Fifty-eight,” said Vareikis.
“And the last time?”
“I wasn’t here the last time.”
“She’s a secretary!” said Andrei. “My secretary! My personal secretary!”
Vareikis remained dismally silent.
Andrei glanced though the list again. Rashidov… he’s a geodesist, I think… Someone praised him to me. Or did they lambaste him? Tatyana Postnik. A technician. Ah, she’s the one with the curls and that cute little face, Quejada had something going on with her… ah, no, that’s a different one… “All right,” he said, “I’ll deal with this and we’ll talk about it again. It would be good if you could request clarification through your own channels concerning posts such as secretary, technician… concerning auxiliary personnel. We can’t make the same demands of them as we do of the scientific workers. After all, we have couriers listed on our staff…”
“Very well,” said Vareikis.
“Anything else?” Andrei asked.
“Yes. Regulation 003.”
Andrei frowned. “I don’t recall that one.”
“Advocating the idea of the Experiment.”
“Ah,” said Andrei. “Well?”
“There are regular alarm signals concerning the following individuals.” Vareikis put another sheet of paper in front of Andrei. There were only three names on the list. All were men. All three of them were heads of sectors. Fundamental sectors. Cosmography, Social Psychology, and Geodesy. Sullivan, Butz, and Quejada. Andrei drummed his fingers on the list. What a damned disaster, he thought. Back to the same old dreck. But keep calm. We need to watch our step here. There’s no way to get through to this blockhead, and I still have to work with him for a long, long time… “Disturbing,” he declared. “Very disturbing. I assume the information has been checked? There are no errors?”
“Crosschecked and repeatedly confirmed information,” Vareikis said in a colorless voice. “Sullivan claims that the Experiment on the City is still going on. According to him, the Glass House is continuing the line of the Experiment, regardless of its own intentions. He claims that the Turning Point is only one stage of the Experiment.”
Hallowed words, thought Andrei. Izya says the same thing, and Fritz doesn’t like it at all. Only Izya is allowed to say it, and the unfortunate Sullivan isn’t.
“Quejada,” Vareikis continued. “Expresses admiration for the scientific and technical prowess of the hypothetical experimenters in the presence of his subordinates. Belittles the value of the president’s work and the work of the presidential council. Has twice compared these activities to the scrabbling of mice in a cardboard shoebox…”
Andrei listened with his eyes lowered, keeping a stony face.
“And finally, Butz. Makes hostile remarks about the president. In an inebriated state has referred to the current political leadership as the dictatorship of mediocrity over cretins.”
Andrei couldn’t restrain himself—he groaned. What the hell makes them say it, he thought irritably, pushing the sheet of paper away. The elite, they’re called, and they saw off the branch they’re sitting on… “But even so, you know,” he said to Vareikis. “But even so, you are aware…”
He shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid. Vareikis stared mournfully into his face, without blinking.
“Excellent work, Vareikis,” said Andrei. “I’ve got nothing to worry about with you there looking out for me… I assume this information”—he tapped his fingernail on the sheet of paper—“has already been forwarded through the usual channels?”
“It will be forwarded today,” said Vareikis. “I was obliged to inform you first.”
“Excellent,” Andrei said cheerfully. “Forward it.” He fastened both pieces of paper together with a pin and placed them in the blue folder with the title REPORT TO THE PRESIDENT. “We’ll see what our Ruhmer decides concerning this matter.”
“Since this is not the first time that we have received information of this kind,” Vareikis said, “I assume that Mr. Ruhmer will recommend removing these men from their senior positions.”
Andrei looked at Vareikis, trying to focus his eyes somewhere behind Vareikis’s back. “Yesterday I went to a screening of a new movie,” he said. “The Naked and the Bosses. We approved it, so it will soon be released for the big screen. I really, really do recommend you watch it. You know, it’s such…”