the time. If they had allocated more for the teachers, they would have had to do the same for the other neglected professions — the police, the social workers, even migrant labor. That would have meant an increase in taxes—”
“Oh.”
“Or a closing of tax loopholes,” Brad added. “And that would have been even worse for the special interests in power at the time.”
Ivo had a sudden vision of the proboscoids of planet Sung, abusing their resources into extinction.
This is how it happens
, he thought. Public apathy led to control by the special interests and unscrupulous individuals, and the trend was disastrous.
Had Brad known that the conversation would take this turn? Was this his way of showing Ivo that the tide had to be turned at this last frontier, the frontier of space? Senator Borland, representing the reactionary power of—
Groton smiled. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to run on like that. I don’t usually—”
“You never told me, dear,” Beatryx said. “Nobody likes to advertise his mistakes. That’s why I tried to forget what my ‘teaching’ really was. It still gets to me, when I think about it — that hellish two weeks — it seemed like several months. It was a long time before I felt really settled again. Before I could forget that terrible insecurity of responsibility without authority, of degradation at the hands of the precious youth of our country, of the bitterness at unworkable and unfair policies and useless effort.”
Yet he had not done anything
about
it himself, Ivo thought. How could mankind turn about, when even those who were shocked by the visible carnage merely retreated from it?
“At least I know better now,” Groton said. “Now that I have Beatryx. And I stay out of ‘causes.’ Maybe I just had to get the mistaken idealism out of my system before settling down.”
Oh.
Brad took Ivo to the confrontation. Afra was busy elsewhere, and he tried to keep his mind off her.
Senator Borland reminded him, shockingly, of the catatonic Dr. Johnson Afra had introduced him to in the infirmary. Borland’s manner dissipated that initial impression in a hurry, however; he was younger and far more forceful than the scientist could ever have been. Ivo tried not to think of him automatically as the enemy. Borland had probably had nothing to do with the closing of schools and suppression of teachers.
It was amazing that one so young as Brad should be trusted to deal with such a man. But Brad was — Brad.
The Senator arrived with his personal secretary: a noisy young man who could only be properly described as a “flunky.” The flunky did the talking, speaking of Borland always in the third person as though he were not present, while Borland himself looked alertly about as though not concerned with the dialogue.
“You!” the flunky cried imperiously, spying Brad. “You’re American, right? The Senator wants to talk to you.”
Brad approached slowly. Ivo could tell he was repressing irritation; he was hardly one to be ordered about abruptly.
The flunky consulted his clipboard. “You’re Bradley Carpenter, right? Boy genius from Kennedy Tech, right? The Senator wants to know what you’re pulling here.”
“Astronomy,” Brad said. There was a small stir among the assembled personnel of the station, and one big man with the Soviet insignia on his lapel smiled, not hesitant to show his contempt of the capitalist hierarchy. The West Europeans kept straight faces, though one had to cough. Borland had no power over them, but there were courtesies to maintain.
“Stargazing. Uh-huh,” the flunky remarked. “The Senator means to put a stop to needless and wasteful expense. Do you have any idea how much of the taxpayer’s hard-earned money you’ve squandered here in the past year?”
“Yes,” Brad replied.
“The Senator means to get to the bottom of this foolishness. This—” There was a doubletake. “What?”
“None.”
“None what?”
“None
“Oh.”
“Or a closing of tax loopholes,” Brad added. “And that would have been even worse for the special interests in power at the time.”
Ivo had a sudden vision of the proboscoids of planet Sung, abusing their resources into extinction.
This is how it happens
, he thought. Public apathy led to control by the special interests and unscrupulous individuals, and the trend was disastrous.
Had Brad known that the conversation would take this turn? Was this his way of showing Ivo that the tide had to be turned at this last frontier, the frontier of space? Senator Borland, representing the reactionary power of—
Groton smiled. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to run on like that. I don’t usually—”
“You never told me, dear,” Beatryx said. “Nobody likes to advertise his mistakes. That’s why I tried to forget what my ‘teaching’ really was. It still gets to me, when I think about it — that hellish two weeks — it seemed like several months. It was a long time before I felt really settled again. Before I could forget that terrible insecurity of responsibility without authority, of degradation at the hands of the precious youth of our country, of the bitterness at unworkable and unfair policies and useless effort.”
Yet he had not done anything
about
it himself, Ivo thought. How could mankind turn about, when even those who were shocked by the visible carnage merely retreated from it?
“At least I know better now,” Groton said. “Now that I have Beatryx. And I stay out of ‘causes.’ Maybe I just had to get the mistaken idealism out of my system before settling down.”
Oh.
Brad took Ivo to the confrontation. Afra was busy elsewhere, and he tried to keep his mind off her.
Senator Borland reminded him, shockingly, of the catatonic Dr. Johnson Afra had introduced him to in the infirmary. Borland’s manner dissipated that initial impression in a hurry, however; he was younger and far more forceful than the scientist could ever have been. Ivo tried not to think of him automatically as the enemy. Borland had probably had nothing to do with the closing of schools and suppression of teachers.
It was amazing that one so young as Brad should be trusted to deal with such a man. But Brad was — Brad.
The Senator arrived with his personal secretary: a noisy young man who could only be properly described as a “flunky.” The flunky did the talking, speaking of Borland always in the third person as though he were not present, while Borland himself looked alertly about as though not concerned with the dialogue.
“You!” the flunky cried imperiously, spying Brad. “You’re American, right? The Senator wants to talk to you.”
Brad approached slowly. Ivo could tell he was repressing irritation; he was hardly one to be ordered about abruptly.
The flunky consulted his clipboard. “You’re Bradley Carpenter, right? Boy genius from Kennedy Tech, right? The Senator wants to know what you’re pulling here.”
“Astronomy,” Brad said. There was a small stir among the assembled personnel of the station, and one big man with the Soviet insignia on his lapel smiled, not hesitant to show his contempt of the capitalist hierarchy. The West Europeans kept straight faces, though one had to cough. Borland had no power over them, but there were courtesies to maintain.
“Stargazing. Uh-huh,” the flunky remarked. “The Senator means to put a stop to needless and wasteful expense. Do you have any idea how much of the taxpayer’s hard-earned money you’ve squandered here in the past year?”
“Yes,” Brad replied.
“The Senator means to get to the bottom of this foolishness. This—” There was a doubletake. “What?”
“None.”
“None what?”
“None
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