The Edge of Tomorrow by Howard Fast

reading?”
    â€œIt’s called Huckleberry Finn . Written by an American—Mark Twain.”
    â€œIt’s a silly book. I couldn’t make head or tail of it.”
    â€œWell—”
    â€œAnd I don’t see why it’s important.”
    Mr. Erdig shook his head and went on reading.
    And that night, when she turned on the Intertator, the Erdigs learned, along with the rest of Mars, that a rocket had been launched against the City of London.…
    After that, a whole month passed before the first atomic warhead, launched from the Earth, exploded upon the surface of Mars. Other warheads followed. And still, there was no war on the Planet Earth.
    The Erdigs were fortunate, for they lived in a part of Mars that had still not felt the monstrous, searing impact of a hydrogen bomb. Thus, they were able to maintain at least a semblance of normal life, and within this, Mr. Erdig clung to his habit of reading for an hour or so before bedtime. As Mr. Erdig had the Intertator on almost constantly these days, he had retreated to the Martian equivalent of a man’s den. He was sitting there on this particular evening when Mrs. Erdig burst in and informed him that the first fleet of manned space-rockets from Earth had just landed on Mars—the soldiers from Earth were proceeding to conquer Mars, and that there was no opposition possible.
    â€œVery interesting,” Mr. Erdig agreed.
    â€œDidn’t you hear me?”
    â€œI heard you, my dear,” Mr. Erdig said.
    â€œSoldiers—armed soldiers from Earth!”
    â€œYes, my dear.” He went back to his book, and when Mrs. Erdig saw that for the third time he was reading the nonsense called Huckleberry Finn , she turned out of the room in despair. She was preparing to slam the door behind her, when Mr. Erdig said,
    â€œOh, my dear.”
    She turned back into the room. “Well—”
    â€œYou remember,” Mr. Erdig said, just as if soldiers from Earth were not landing on Mars that very moment, “that a while back you were complaining that you couldn’t make any sense out of an English word— righteous ?”
    â€œFor heaven’s sake!”
    â€œWell, it seemed to puzzle you so—”
    â€œDid you hear a word I said?”
    â€œAbout the ships from Earth? Oh, yes—yes, of course. But here I was reading this book for the third time—it is a most remarkable book—and I came across that word, and it’s not obscure at all. Not in the least. A righteous man is pure and wise and good and holy and just—above all, just. And equitable, you might say. Cato the Censor was such a man. Yes—and Cato the Martian, I do believe. Poor Cato—he was fried by one of those hydrogen bombs, wasn’t he? A very righteous man—”
    Sobbing hysterically, Mrs. Erdig fled from the room. Mr. Erdig sighed and returned to his novel.

As always, the annual meeting of the Board of Directors convened at nine o’clock in the morning, on the 10th of December. Nine o’clock in the morning was a sensible and reasonable hour to begin a day’s work, and long ago, the 10th of December had been chosen as a guarantee against the seduction of words. Every one of the directors would have to be home for the Christmas holiday—or its equivalent—and therefore the agenda was timed for precisely two weeks and not an hour more.
    In the beginning, this had caused many late sessions, sometimes two or three days when the directors met the clock round, with no break for sleep or rest. But in time, as things fell into the proper place and orderly management replaced improvisation, each day’s meeting was able to adjourn by four o’clock in the afternoon—and there were even years when the general meeting finished its work a day or two early.
    By now, the meeting of the Board of Directors was very matter-of-fact and routine. The big clock on the wall of the charming and spacious