later he became one of the 140 members of the Central Committee of the Party. His promotion was the fastest in the annals of Wonworld. Articles about him appeared in the New Truth and were reprinted everywhere. He was credited with all sorts of prodigies he had never performed. Nowhere did he find it once mentioned that he was Stalenin’s son.
With Adams he inspected innumerable government bureaus. His principal impression was of mountains of paper work. “Every pin produced in Wonworld is recorded,” he was proudly told. It certainly was. At least in triplicate, and sometimes through endless carbon copies. Peter wondered whether the time and expense of recording the pins weren’t greater than that of making them.
At the headquarters of the Bureau of State Security—the secret police—Peter walked past miles of steel cabinets. A complete dossier, he found, was kept about every person in Wonworld. There was a vast amount of cross-filing. In addition to every person’s serial number, name if any, annual photograph, finger prints, biography, family connections if any, occupation, friends and acquaintances, there was also a notation of what he could be accused of in an emergency.
“Just to keep everybody in line,” explained Kilashov. Kilashov was head of the secret police and a member of the Politburo. “This emergency accusation,” he said, “isn’t necessarily the one used when an accusation has to be made. But it’s often a great time saver.”
“What evidence have you,” Peter asked, “that these accusations are true?”
Kilashov smiled grimly. “There is no better evidence than a man’s own confession, and we know how to get that.”
Adams took Peter on an inspection tour of shops and stores. There were not many. People often had to come long distances to get to them. “This means a great economy in distribution costs,” he was told. He invariably found fewer and poorer goods for sale in the shops themselves than in the shop windows. The latter were mainly samples, he learned, not yet turned out in quantity—things scheduled for the next Five-Year Plan.
No item could be bought, moreover, except with a specific ration coupon for that particular kind of item. There were no proletarian ration tickets for specialties. There were merely bread ration tickets for bread, chicken ration tickets for chicken, shoe ration tickets for shoes....
“Suppose a man breaks a shoelace?” Peter asked.
“Each pair of shoes,” Adams explained, “is sold with an extra pair of laces.” “And if he breaks even this second pair—?” “He can get a third pair of laces by applying for a special coupon and swearing out an affidavit that the breakage was an accident. His application for this special coupon, however, is recorded against him on his passport, his labor book, and in the secret police dossiers.”
“Doesn’t that procedure rather discourage applications for special shoelace coupons?” “It certainly does. And it discourages the breaking of shoelaces, dishes, or anything else.”
With his eyes sharpened by experience and by Adams’ dry comments, Peter became increasingly appalled by the carelessness, waste and chaos in production. The output of one item never seemed to match that of any other. There would be too many suits of one size and too little of another. Whole housing projects would be held up because of a shortage of tar paper. But in the Moscow district there were far more window frames than could be used in the planned new housing because the window-frame makers had proudly exceeded their quota.
“Bolshekov must have read of your promotion in the newspapers, Peter,” said Stalenin. “In his last report from Kansas he adds casually that it would contribute to your education to go out there and see conditions at first hand. Of course all he really wants is to have you under his eye. But you should go.”
“What does he say about Kansas?”
“A million peasants have already died
With Adams he inspected innumerable government bureaus. His principal impression was of mountains of paper work. “Every pin produced in Wonworld is recorded,” he was proudly told. It certainly was. At least in triplicate, and sometimes through endless carbon copies. Peter wondered whether the time and expense of recording the pins weren’t greater than that of making them.
At the headquarters of the Bureau of State Security—the secret police—Peter walked past miles of steel cabinets. A complete dossier, he found, was kept about every person in Wonworld. There was a vast amount of cross-filing. In addition to every person’s serial number, name if any, annual photograph, finger prints, biography, family connections if any, occupation, friends and acquaintances, there was also a notation of what he could be accused of in an emergency.
“Just to keep everybody in line,” explained Kilashov. Kilashov was head of the secret police and a member of the Politburo. “This emergency accusation,” he said, “isn’t necessarily the one used when an accusation has to be made. But it’s often a great time saver.”
“What evidence have you,” Peter asked, “that these accusations are true?”
Kilashov smiled grimly. “There is no better evidence than a man’s own confession, and we know how to get that.”
Adams took Peter on an inspection tour of shops and stores. There were not many. People often had to come long distances to get to them. “This means a great economy in distribution costs,” he was told. He invariably found fewer and poorer goods for sale in the shops themselves than in the shop windows. The latter were mainly samples, he learned, not yet turned out in quantity—things scheduled for the next Five-Year Plan.
No item could be bought, moreover, except with a specific ration coupon for that particular kind of item. There were no proletarian ration tickets for specialties. There were merely bread ration tickets for bread, chicken ration tickets for chicken, shoe ration tickets for shoes....
“Suppose a man breaks a shoelace?” Peter asked.
“Each pair of shoes,” Adams explained, “is sold with an extra pair of laces.” “And if he breaks even this second pair—?” “He can get a third pair of laces by applying for a special coupon and swearing out an affidavit that the breakage was an accident. His application for this special coupon, however, is recorded against him on his passport, his labor book, and in the secret police dossiers.”
“Doesn’t that procedure rather discourage applications for special shoelace coupons?” “It certainly does. And it discourages the breaking of shoelaces, dishes, or anything else.”
With his eyes sharpened by experience and by Adams’ dry comments, Peter became increasingly appalled by the carelessness, waste and chaos in production. The output of one item never seemed to match that of any other. There would be too many suits of one size and too little of another. Whole housing projects would be held up because of a shortage of tar paper. But in the Moscow district there were far more window frames than could be used in the planned new housing because the window-frame makers had proudly exceeded their quota.
“Bolshekov must have read of your promotion in the newspapers, Peter,” said Stalenin. “In his last report from Kansas he adds casually that it would contribute to your education to go out there and see conditions at first hand. Of course all he really wants is to have you under his eye. But you should go.”
“What does he say about Kansas?”
“A million peasants have already died
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