Body Politic by Paul Johnston

country fell into total disorder and the Enlightenment got the opportunity it needed. Edinburgh citizens voted the party in with a huge majority after a London mob barricaded MPs in the chamber during their last emergency debate and burned the place to the ground. I can’t say I was too upset.
    â€œGot it.” Hector held up a piece of paper triumphantly. “Read that.”
    I looked at the typed sheet. It was a page from the minutes of a Council meeting six months after the election victory. I studied it with mounting amazement. “‘As a result of negative votes by the education and public order guardians, we do not approve the information guardian’s proposal that the Council commit itself to resign en masse if evidence of corruption in any directorate is brought to light.’” I glanced at my father and whistled. “Jesus. You tried to get them to agree to that and they refused?”
    His eyes were unusually wide open. “You see what I mean? That proposal was an integral part of the Enlightenment’s planning from the beginning – it was the ultimate safeguard. But once we were in power, people’s priorities changed.”
    â€œI’m not surprised Hamilton voted against it, but the education guardian . . .”
    â€œWho is now the senior guardian.” The old man sat down, his limbs suddenly loose and his jaw slack. “From that day on I never felt the same about the Council. I stuck it out for another nine years, but organising propaganda is hard when your heart isn’t in it.”
    It was one of the few times I’d seen my father looking like he needed support. I wish I’d shown him that I felt for him, but neither of us was ever much good at displays of emotion. The Enlightenment deadened us completely.
    Pretty soon afterwards Hector sat up straight. His periods of introspection were always short. “Look on the bright side, Quintilian,” he said. “People are better off than they were and they know it. Electricity and water may be in short supply, but there’s enough. There are no cars or private telephones or personal computers. There’s no television, though only a cretin would choose to sit in front of what used to be served up every evening. But think of all the benefits: jobs, a reliable health and welfare system, safety in the streets, education throughout their lives for all.” He glanced at me and smiled ironically. “Except for people who’ve been demoted, of course.” He looked away, shaking his head. “Those were our ideals and they’ve actually been achieved. Sometimes I still find it hard to believe.”
    I admired his ability to criticise the regime and then salute its achievements, but I wondered how close he was to the reality of life in the city now. “I saw Billy Geddes last night,” I said, then told him about the Bearskin.
    â€œSounds like he’s turned out to be one of the backsliders I was talking about,” Hector said scathingly. He was never keen on what he referred to as “affairs of the cock”.
    â€œMaybe he isn’t that bad,” I said, scrabbling around for something to put up in mitigation. “Maybe he’s just keen on cars and flash clothes.”
    â€œI’d have him down the mines before he could zip himself up.”
    He had a point. I was having a hard time with Billy myself.
    â€œI never agreed with all that entertainment for the tourists,” the old man added. “At least the gambling and whoring. I’m no Calvinist, but to me that’s just dirty money.”
    I had a sudden vision of the perfect woman on the stage and wondered how she’d got involved in that kind of work. “The Medical Directorate checks all the women regularly,” I said. “There hasn’t been a case of AIDS for years.”
    â€œNot that we’ve been told about,” Hector said. “There hadn’t been a murder . .