he said. "You Russkies, pardon me, Russians, seem to think that because there are tens of millions unemployed in America today that they're all starving. Actually, many of them never had it so good."
It was the Russian's turn to look blank.
Mike said, "Listen, even back in the 1930s depression the American standard of living as compared to the rest of the world, was fabulous. You've got to realize that the Soviet Complex didn't invent the production of abundance. We Americans did. We've had it for half a century and more. Right now, it's driving us batty. We don't know how to control it."
The Russian began, "But I've always been led to believe that it was the Seven Year Plan that was started in the early 1970s that first developed——"
Mike was waggling a finger negatively. "No, sir. If you insist I might go along with you on Ivan Ivanovitch or somebody or other inventing the steamboat, or Georgi Georgiovitch flying an airplane before the Wright brothers. However, I will not retreat an inch on the fact that we Americans first developed the production of superabundance. I'll also admit that we still have to figure out what to do with it all-but we were the first. You Russians have it too, now, and so has Common Europe, but we were fanny deep in agricultural surpluses, for instance, while you people were still eating black bread and cabbage in the way of diet."
"But the unemployed. You just admitted that there were tens of millions of unemployed."
"Yeah," Mike said. "The unemployed. Do you think that any office holder in the United States would remain there overnight if he voted for anything that involved not taking care of the unemployed? Once a month, at least, every politician in the country gets up on his hind legs and gives a blistering attack against the trend toward the Welfare State. It's expected of him, like being against sin and for mother and freedom. Then he goes back to his seat in Congress and votes another increase in the Guaranteed Annual Income, and every pension and veteran's bonus in sight."
The Russian was taken aback.
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Mike snorted. "I know at least a couple of dozen young men back home who have never had a job in their lives. They live in suburban homes, drive their own cars, raise families, take vacation trips. Vacations yet. Vacations from what? What's more," he added glumly, "The way things look, they never will hold down a job-the new leisure class. With the advances in technology, it looks as though the United States will have another half million unemployed this year to add to last year's total."
The Russian said, "Well, why are you here? Why don't you go home and get a job being unemployed?"
"Damn it!" Mike roared. "Because I'm in revolt. I think people ought to work, even if it's only as meaningless a job as listening to the silly complaints of tourists. The world may get to the point where technology throws ninety-nine men out of -a hundred out of work, but I'll find something to do if it kills me!"
"I'm a doctor," the Russian said soothingly. "If it affects you this strongly, it might."
"Might what?" Mike said, more calmly.
"Might kill you. You'll have a stroke. How about another vodka?"
"No thanks," Mike said. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I've had a hard day and that's my particular sore spot."
Chapter V
Mike Edwards wasn't making the progress he would have liked with Catherina. He didn't know why.
He was so used to having women tourists fall all over him that it was hard to accept one who didn't respond at all. He spent his spare time hanging around the hotel where she was quartered for her Horizonal Holidays vacation.
It was there, in the main bar, that he ran into Frank Jones again. By this time, the other had acquired a sport shirt and had shed his suit coat, but he still didn't look like a typical Horizonal Holidays client and he still had his dour expression.
Mike said, automatically, "How goes the vacation?"
And Jones said, slowly, as though seeking for words, "Actually, Mr. Edwards, this isn't a vacation for me."
"What is it, then? Any way I can help?" He gave the patio-lounge a quick sweep with his eyes, but there was no sign of Catherina.
Frank Jones said, "I was sent to see how you were get-ting along with the Russkie tourists. First I was to size you up from a distance, and then approach you."
That brought Mike's eyes back to the other in a hurry. "By whom? And why? Who cares, except Horizontal Holidays?"
Jones said quietly, "The North Atlantic Treaty Organization does."
"NATO?" Mike blurted. "Is NATO still in existence? What use is a military alliance in a world where any country, no matter how small, can destroy any other country, no matter how large?"
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"I know," Jones said. "When every country on Earth has H-Bombs and intercontinental rockets, they are all equal, militarily speaking, and no combination is any stronger than any individual nation. It's something like the situation in the Old West, when the fellow said, 'All men are created equal. Sam'l Colt made them that way.' Actually, NATO isn't exactly a military alliance any longer. It has-evolved. It's more of an organization on the part of North America and Western Europe to… well… control the Soviet Complex in the realm of international trade."
Mike was scowling at him. "But why the interest in me? I'm just one of hundreds of Horizonal Holidays representatives."
Jones poured the rest of his bottle of beer into his glass. "You are also Michael J. Edwards, the youngest man ever to take the degree of Academician in an American university and you took it in political economy. Three of your textbooks are still in nationwide use."
Mike snorted. "Which didn't keep me from going out on my neck when my department Was automated five years ago and TV screens took over teaching."
The other was shaking his head, and there was a certain respect on his Lincolnesque face. "You wouldn't have gone out. A couple of dozen men under you would have been displaced is all. As I understand it, you resigned in protest at their dismissal."
Mike shrugged, somewhat angrily. Tin not opposed to automation and computers in industry, or anywhere they save drudgery, but I don't believe in it in the arts and certainly not in education. TV has its place but political economy shouldn't be taught to ten million students at once by some joker sitting before a camera. A few decades of that and you'll have everybody in the country with identical ideas."
He thought about it for a moment, before going on. "I suppose I'm in revolt against what's happening to the intellectual in America. With all the manpower available, I think we should put more people into education, science and the arts. I'm not a sulking expatriate. If I came up with an answer to the problems as I see them, I'd return to the States tomorrow and start fighting for the changes I thought necessary to bring her out of the current intellectual and economic rut. Meanwhile, while I'm thinking it out, I'll make my living some Other way than in an education system with which I can't agree. Just by chance, this is the job I fell into."
Frank Jones took another swallow of his beer and said, "Professor Edwards—"
"Mr. Edwards, these days."
"All right, Mr. Edwards." Jones seemed to switch subjects. He said, "How would you sum up the world's current economic situation?"
Mike's eyes went around the lobby again. He wondered where Catherina could be. She should be coming in for dinner. Maybe she was off on one of the endless parties the Russkies were forever throwing. He wondered who she was with. That big goof of a Cossack they called Vovo? He wondered if she was sleeping with him. He felt an uncomfortable twang. Jealousy? Holy smokes. He just wasn't the type. And over, of all things, a Russkie tourist.
He brought his attention back to Jones. "Economic situation? Why, looking back it seems unbelievable that we didn't foresee it all. Industrial production, once you get beyond a certain take-off point, can be a geometric progression. You build one steel mill and with its product you build two more, and with their Page 13