He did not eat dinner. That would be an unpardonable faux pas, in view of this evenings planned ceremony. Still, he needed to keep his glucose level up after the tensions of the day. A few tablets took care of that. Refreshed, Quellen sealed his apartment and went out. He was meeting Judith at the communion. Afterward, perhaps, he might go home with her. She lived alone since she had joined him in Class Seven. It would be an act of good citizenship, Quellen knew,to marry her and combine their living quarters. Quellen was not prepared to be so patriotic just yet.
The cult session was being held, Judith had informed him, at the Class Four home of a certain Brose Cashdan, an administrator of the intercontinental stat nexus. It was interesting to Quellen that a transportation tycoon like Cashdan would get involved in such a cult. Of course, the cult of social regurgitation wasnt on the proscribed list. It might be esthetically distasteful, but it wasnt subversive like some of the others. Still, Quellens experience with high administrators had taught him that they tended to be guardians of the status quo. Maybe Cashdan was different. In any case, Quellen was curious about the house. He had not seen many Class Four homes.
Brose Cashdans villa lay just within the inner zone of the Appalachia stat radius. That meant that Quellen could not reach it by the instantaneous transmission of the stat, but had to take a quickboat. A pity, that; it was a waste of half an hour. He programmed his course northward. The screen within the quickboat gave him a simulated view of what was below; the Hudson River, silvery and serpentine in the moonlight, and then the furry hills of the Adirondack Forest Preserve, a thousand acres of unspoiled wilderness in the middle of the sprawl of the city, and finally the floodlit glitter of the landing ramp. Local transport took Quellen speedily to Cashdans place. He was a little late, he knew, but it did not bother him.
It was quite a villa. Quellen was not prepared for such opulence. Of course, Cashdan was required to live in just one location, unlike the Class Two people who could have several homes in scattered parts of the world. Still, it was a magnificent establishment, constructed mainly of glass with axial poles of some spongy, tough-looking synthetic. There were at least six rooms, a small garden (!), and a rooftoplanding stage. Even from the air the place had a warm, inviting glow. Quellen stepped into the vestibule, peering ahead in hopes of catching sight of Judith.
A portly, sixtyish man with a starched white tunic came out to greet him. Diagonally across the tunic was emblazoned the golden sash of power.
Im Brose Cashdan, the man said. His voice was deep, the voice of authority. Quellen could see this man making brisk decisions all day long and scarcely bothering to get a recommend from a High Government official.
Joseph Quellen. I was invited by
Judith da Silva. Of course. Judiths inside. Welcome, Mr. Quellen. Were honored that youve chosen to join us. Come in. Come in.
Cashdan managed to sound ingratiating and commanding at the same time. He propelled Quellen into an inner room twenty feet long and at least thirty feet in width, carpeted wall-to-wall with some gray foamy substance that possibly had a degree of pseudolife. There was certainly nothing austere or drab about this shining palatial residence.
Eight or nine people sat clustered on the floor in the very middle of the room. Judith was among them. To Quellens surprise, Judith had not chosen to dress in the piously self-effacing manner that most communicants of this cult preferred. Obviously this upper-class gathering had different norms. She was wearing a highly immodest sprayon dress, blue with green undertones. A strip of fabric passed between her breasts, which otherwise were bare, and wound about her hips and loins. Her nakedness was covered, more or less, but since the covering was nothing but pigment she might just as well have come nude. Quellen understood that such extreme fashions were permissible only in sophisticated circles where the mode was Class Sixor better. It was a trifle pushy, then, for Judith, a Class Seven to expose herself this way. Quellen sensed that he and Judith might well be the only Sevens in the room. He smiled at Judith. She had small breasts, the desirable kind to have these days, and she had called attention to them by pigmenting her nipples.
Beside her sat a thick-bodied, practically neckless man with a clipped blue-stained beard, moist lips, and a placid expression. He was flanked by another woman, somewhat older than Judith, who wore a sprayon rig not much more modest than hers. On Judith it looked good; but not on this other one, who had unfashionably bulging breasts and plump haunches. She simpered at Quellen, who rudely stared at her tastelessly exposed body.
The rest had a prosperous, earnestly intellectual look mainly men, some of them a trifle on the epicene side, all of them well dressed and clearly high on the slope. Judith, rising to her feet, made the introductions. Quellen let most of the names glide past without sticking in his consciousness. The neckless man with the blue beard, he noted, was Dr. Richard Galuber, Judiths frood. The fleshy damsel was Mrs. Galuber. Interesting. Quellen hadnt known that the frood was married. He had long suspected that Judith was his mistress through some shameful reverse transference. Maybe so; but would Galuber bring his wife to meet his mistress at such a session? Quellen wasnt sure. Froods were often devious in their motivations, and for all Quellen knew Galuber was out to score some obscure therapeutic point on his wife by hauling her along.
Outside the group, Judith said, Im so glad you came, Joe. I was afraid youd back out.
I promised Id come, didnt I?
Yes, I know. But youve got a tendency to withdraw from potentially hostile social experiences.
Quellen was annoyed. There you go, frooding me again! Stop it, Judith. I came, didnt I?
Of course you did. Her smile was suddenly warm, authentically so. Im happy that you did. I didnt mean to impugn you. Come meet Dr. Galuber.
Must I?
She laughed. As I said, youve got a tendency to withdraw from potentially
All right. All right. Take me to Dr. Galuber.
They crossed the room. Quellen was unsettled by Judiths nakedness. A polymerized band of pigment wasnt clothing, really. He could make out the separate cheeks of her buttocks beneath the dark blue covering. It made her look more bare than actual nudity. The effect was provocative and disturbing. Her slender, angular body attracted him almost unbearably, especially in the social context of this urbane setting. On the other hand, Mrs. Galuber was just as exposed, practically, and Quellens basic impulse was to throw a blanket over her shoulders to shield her shame.
The frood peered in a froodlike fashion at Quellen. Its a delight to meet you, Mr. Quellen. Ive heard a great deal about you.
Im sure you have, said Quellen nervously. He was disappointed that Galuber, despite his promisingly Teutonic name, did not fake the ritualistic Central European accent that most froods affected. I didnt know that men in your profession belonged to cults like this.
We accept spiritual experiences of all sorts, Galuber said. Is there some reason why we should reject them?
Not really.
The frood nodded to his wife. Jennifer and I have belonged to a social regurgitation group for more than a year, now. Its led us to some remarkable insights, hasnt it, beloved?
Mrs. Galuber simpered again. She eyed Quellen in such a frankly sexual way that he rippled with shock. Its been extremely enlightening, she agreed. Her voice was a warm, rich contralto. Any kind of interpersonal communion is beneficial, dont you think? Which is to say, we achieve cathexis in the manner best suited to our needs. Jennifer Galubers abundant flesh shook with genial laughter. Quellen found himself staring at the ugly upthrust mounds of her bare breasts, and he looked away, feeling guilty and sickened. The Galubers, he thought, must have a very odd marriage. But I will not let that fat witch sneak me off for a spot of instant interpersonal communion. Galuber may be bedding Judith, but it gains me nothing to bed his wife in turn, for the roles arent equal.
Judith said, Ive been after Dr. Galuber to come to one of our communion groups meetings for months. But hes always resisted. He felt that until he and I had reached the right stage in my therapy, he couldnt let himself get involved on such an intimate level.
Theres more to it than that, of course, said the frood benevolently. There always is. In this case, it was a matter of imposing my wifes handicap on the group, which would require special preparations. Jennifers a galactose-deficient mutant, you see. Shes got to stay on a galactose-free diet.
I see, said Quellen blankly.
Its a genetic fluke, Galuber went on. She cant metabolize galactose at all, because of an enzyme deficit. Galactose precursors would pile up, and thered be cell damage. So shes had to be on a galactose-free diet from birth, but that leads to other problems. Since theres the enzyme deficit, she cant synthesize galactose from endogenous carbohydrates, and if left uncompensated for that would lead to a partial replacement of galactolipids by glucolipids in the brain, a grossly defective blood group spectrum, poorimmune reaction in organ transplants, abnormal brain developmentoh, a great problem, in many ways.
Can it be cured? Quellen asked.
Not in the sense of total remission of pathology. But it can be dealt with. Hereditary galactose metabolism defects can be controlled through enzyme synthesis. Nevertheless, shes got to remain on a special diet and avoid certain substances, among them the one thats the essence of tonights ceremony. Which is why we had to substitute our own prepared material. An inconvenience to the host.
Not at all, not at all, boomed Brose Cashdan unexpectedly. A trivial matter! Were delighted that you could join with us, Mrs. Galuber!
Quellen, bewildered by Galubers stream of clinical verbiage, was relieved when Cashdan announced that the ceremony was about to begin. The frood had spouted all that stuff on purpose, Quellen thought resentfully, by way of establishing his intellectual supremacy. Instead of tossing forth the jargon on his own trade, which was easy enough to parry if you knew your way around cocktail-party froodianism, Galuber had chosen to engulf Quellen in a cascade of impenetrable technicalities of a medical sort. Quellen quietly cursed Jennifer Galubers enzyme deficit, her wanton glances, her galactolipid accumulation, and her jiggling breasts. Slipping away from her, he followed Judith back across the room to the carpeted pit in the center where the ceremony was about to take place.
Judith said warningly, Joe, please, dont back out the way you did the last time. Youve got to learn to divorce yourself from tribal reactions. Look at things objectively. Whats wrong with mixing a little saliva?
Nothing, he said. I suppose.
And digestive fluidsthey cant harm you. Its all for the sake of spiritual communion. You mustnt look at things in obsolete ways.
Is that how you get up the nerve to come naked to a social gathering? he asked. By looking at things in a non-obsolete way?
Im not naked, she said primly.
No. Youre wearing a coat of paint.
It conceals what society requires us to conceal.
It leaves your secondary sex characteristics exposed, Quellen pointed out. Thats pretty naked.
But not the primary ones. See for yourself. Im perfectly covered in that area, and so, Im well within the norms. Why dont you look at me? You can be so absurd at times, Joe.
Since she insisted on it, he stared at her waist. His eyes traveled as far as her thighs. He had to admit it; she was decently enough clad there. She looked nude, but she wasnt. Cunning, he thought. Provocative. He wondered how she got the sprayon outfit off. Maybe she would show him that, too, before the night was out. Her lean body held a powerful attraction for him. Unlike Helaine, whose leanness was the result of erosion and general haggardness, Judiths body was perfect in its lithe, slim elegance. Quellen would gladly have walked out right now with her.
But there was the ceremony to endure.
The members of this communion group assembled themselves on the rim of the carpeted pit. Brose Cashdan, as the host, produced a shining metallic bowl in which reposed a doughy mass about the size of a mans head. This, Quellen knew, was the substance of the love feast; an indigestible algae product with emetic properties. Adapted, no doubt, to suit Mrs. Galubers galactose deficit.
Cashdan said, Dr. Galuber has kindly consented to be our first celebrant this evening.
The lights were dimmed. Galuber took the gleaming bowl from Cashdan and rested it on his knees. Then, solemnly, he broke loose a fistful of the dough and crammed it into his mouth. He began to chew.
There were many cults. Quellen was no joiner, but even he had now and then been drawn into their ceremonies, generally through the urging of Judith. She drifted everywhere in her search for spiritual fulfillmentfrom frood to frood, from cult to cult. Quellen suspected that she had frequented the proscribed cults, perhaps even the outlawed Flaming Bess religion. He could picture Judith dancing nakedno flimflam of sprayon to cover her shamewhile a groveling pyrotic kindled an extrasensory blaze and raging voices called for the overthrow of the High Government. Pyrotics had actually assassinated several Class One leaders a generation ago. The cult still endured.
Mainly, though, the cults were more innocent things revolting, perhaps, but not criminal. Such as this one, in which the chewing of the cud somehow led to a feeling of interpersonal harmony. Cashdan was intoning a digestive litany of some sort. Galuber was still stuffing resilient dough into his mouth. How much could that capacious belly hold? Jennifer Galuber was watching her husband with pride. The frood continued to devour. His face was transfigured, the eyes virtually sightless. Jennifer glowered. Her bare body seemed even more huge as she took vicarious pleasure from her husbands importance.
They were all chanting, now. Even Judith. Low, serious sounds of spirituality came from them.
She nudged him. You too, she whispered.
I dont know the words.
Just drone along, then.
He shrugged. Galuber had ingested nearly every scrap of dough in the bowl. Surely his stomach was painfully distended,now. That stuff was like rubber. The emetic it contained worked on a critical-mass basis; once you had enough of the stuff in your gut, the peristalsis reflex was triggered and the sacred regurgitation began.
Judith, beside Quellen, was begging to be admitted into the realms of Oneness. Nirvana through up-chucking, Quellen thought coldly. How could it be? What am I doing here? The chant rebounded from the glass walls and deafened him. In a subtle antiphony currents of sound were sweeping round and round the room. He could not avoid swaying in rhythm. His lips moved. He would have joined in, if only he knew the words. He found himself humming tunelessly. Cashdan, still leading the ceremony, stepped up his volume. His voice was a fine, thick, black basso, with plenty of intensity to it.
Galuber sat motionless in the center of the pit. His eyes were closed. His hands were clasped on his abdomen. His face was flushed. He alone was in stasis in the midst of this swaying, chanting congregation. Quellen forced himself to stay aloof, observing. He watched the rhythmic side-to-side motions of Jennifer Galubers offensively large breasts. He watched Judiths fine-boned face turn radiant with some inner ecstasy. A sexless young man with slicked-down maroon hair was jerking as though he had hold of a high voltage wire. Around the room, the mysterious passion of social regurgitation was taking hold.
Dr. Galuber began to vomit, now.
The frood regurgitated with quiet dignity. His thick lips parted, and lumps of dough burst forth into the bowl. Sweat beaded his flushed face; there was effort in any kind of reverse peristalsis, even when the medulla was lulled, as it was by the drug within the dough. Yet he performed his function in the rite nobly. The bowl was filled.
It was passed around.
Hands clutched at moist dough. Take and eat, take and eat; here is the body, the authentic substance of the group. Join in the Oneness. Brose Cashdan was eating. Jennifer Galuber ate. Judith tranquilly accepted her portion. Quellen found a wet doughy mass in his hand.
Take. Eat.
Be objective. This is Oneness. His hand rose trembling toward his lips. He felt Judiths thigh warm against his own, beside him. Take and eat. Take and eat. Galuber lay prostrate in the pit, transfixed with ecstasy.
Quellen ate.
He chewed lustily, not allowing himself to hesitate. The particular property of the indigestible substance was that it could be digested upon contact with saliva following immersion in the alimentary tract. One swallowing wasnt enough; Galuber had merely prepared it for their intake. Quellen swallowed. Oddly, he felt no queasiness. He had eaten ants, raw whelks, sea urchins, other exotic delicacies, and had not even been granted a chance of a spiritual experience in the bargain. Why hesitate at this?
The other communicants were weeping in joy. Tears glistened on Judiths sprayon garment. Quellen still felt deplorably objective about the universe. He had not joined the mystic communion after all, dutifully though he had observed the rite. He waited patiently for the ecstasy to pass from the others.
Judith whispered to him, Will you celebrate the next round?
Absolutely not.
Joe
Please. I came, didnt I? Im participating. Dont ask me to be the star.
Its customary for strangers to the group to
I know. Not me. Someone else can have the honor.
She looked reproachfully at him. Quellen realized that he had failed her. Tonight had been some sort of a test, and he had nearly passed. Nearly.
Brose Cashdan had produced a second mass of ritual dough. Without a word, Jennifer Galuber accepted the bowl and began to stuff herself. The frood, exhausted by his efforts, sat slumped wearily beside her, hardly watching. The rite proceeded as had the first. Quellen took part as before, without ever becoming involved in the action.
Afterward, Brose Cashdan approached Quellen and said softly, Would you care to lead us in our next communion?
Im sorry, said Quellen. I really cant. Ive got to leave soon.
I regret that. We had hoped youd participate to the fullest. Cashdan smiled dreamily and handed the bowl to someone else.
Quellen tugged at Judiths wrist and drew her to one side. Come home with me, he whispered urgently.
How can you think of sex here?
You arent dressed chastely, you know. Youve had two communions. Will you leave with me?
No, she said firmly.
If I wait until the next communion is over?
No. Not then. Youll have to take communion yourself, as a celebrant, and mean it. Otherwise Id feel no kinship to you later. Honestly, Joe, how can I give myself to a man I dont relate to? It would be so utterly mechanicalit would harm us both.
Her nakedness that was not nakedness stabbed at him. He could not bear to look down at the alluring slenderness of her body. With pain he said, Dont do this to me, Judith. Play fair. Lets leave now.
For answer, she turned away and rejoined her companions in the ritual pit. The third communion was about to begin. Cashdan looked invitingly at Quellen, who shook his head and quickly left the room. Outside, he glanced back through the transparent wall and saw Judith with her head thrown back and her lips parted in rapture. The Galubers likewise looked ecstatic. The image of Jennifer Galubers obese body burned its way indelibly into Quellens brain. He fled.
He was home not long after midnight, but his apartment gave him no comfort. He had to escape. Recklessly, he stepped into the stat field and let himself be hurled to Africa.
Morning had come, there. A light mistlike rain was falling, but the golden gleam of the sun cut through the gray haze. The crocodiles were in their usual places. A bird screeched. The leafy boughs, heavy with rain, trailed toward the rich wet black earth. Quellen tried to let the peace of the place enfold him. Kicking off his shoes, he walked down to the edge of the stream. The muck oozed voluptuously between his toes. Some small insect nipped at his calf. A frog leaped into the stream, making a pool of widening concentric circles in the dark surface of the water. One crocodile lazily opened a glistening eye. The sweet, heavy air surged into Quellens lungs.
He took no comfort in any of it.
This place was his, but he had not earned it. He had stolen it. He could have no real peace here. Behind him, in Appalachia, he likewise found no repose. The world was too much with him, and he was too little of the world. He thought of Judith, sensuous in sprayon, ecstatic as she chewed the cud. She hates me, Quellen thought, or perhaps she pities me, but the effect is the same. Shell never see me again.
He did not wish to remain in these pleasant surroundings while he was in such a mood.
Quellen returned to the stat. He stepped into the field, and was hurled back across the sea to his own apartment, leaving morning and entering the fist of night. He slept poorly.
11.
At the office the following morning, Quellen found his two UnderSecs waiting for him with a third man, a tall, awkward, shabbily dressed fellow with a broken nose that projected beak-like from his face. Brogg turned the oxy vent up to full, Quellen noticed.
Whos this? Quellen asked. Youve made an arrest? Could it be, he wondered, that this was Lanoy? It didnt seem likely. How could this seedy prolettoo poor, apparently, to afford a plastic job on his nosebe the force behind the hoppers?
Tell the CrimeSec who you are, Brogg said, nudging the prolet roughly with his elbow.
Name is Brand, the prolet said in a thin, whiningly high voice. Class Fifteen. I didnt mean no harm, it was just that he promised me a home all my own, and a job, and fresh air
Brogg cut him off. We ran up against this man in a drinker. He had had one or two too many and was telling everyone that hed have a job soon.
Thats what the fellow said, Brand mumbled. Just had to give him two hundred credits and hed send me somewhere where everyone had a job. And Id be able to send money back to bring my family along.
That cant be right, said Quellen. Sending money back? Contact up the time-path?
Thats what he said. It sounded so good, sir.
A phony inducement, Brogg suggested. If theres two-way contact, it upsets all our calculations. But there isnt any such thing.
Quellen said, What was this fellows name?
Lanoy, sir.
Lanoy! Lanoy everywhere, tentacles reaching in all directions at once!
Brand muttered. Someone gave me this and told me to get in touch with him.
He held out a crumpled minislip. Quellen unfolded it and read it. It said:
OUT OF WORK?
SEE LANOY
These things are everywhere, Quellen said. He reached into his own pocket and pulled out the slip he had been handed on the flyramp. Quellen had been carrying it around for several days like a talisman. He laid it beside the first. They were identical.
OUT OF WORK?
SEE LANOY
Lanoys sent a lot of my friends there, Brand said. He told me they were all working and happy there, sir
Where does he send them? Quellen asked gently.
I dont know, sir. Lanoy said he was going to tell me when I gave him the two hundred units. I drew out all my savings. I was on my way to him, and I just dropped in for a short one, whenwhen
When we found him, Brogg finished. Telling everyone-in sight that he was heading to Lanoy to get a job.
Mmm. Do you know what the hoppers are, Brand?
No, sir.
Never mind, then. Suppose you take us to Lanoy.
I cant do that. It wouldnt be fair. All my friends
Suppose we make you take us to Lanoy, Quellen said.
But he was going to give me a job! I cant do it. Please, sir.
Brogg looked sharply at Quellen. Let me try, he said. Lanoy was going to give you a job, you say? For two hundred units?
Yes, sir.
What if we tell you that well give you a job for nothing? No charge at all, just lead us to Lanoy and well send you where he was going to send you, only free. And well send your family along, too.
Quellen smiled. When it came to handling the lower prolets, Brogg was a far better psychologist than he was. He was forced to admit that.
Sounds fair, Brand said. Only I feel bad about it. Lanoy was nice to me. But if you say youll send me for nix
Quite right, Brand.
Ill do it, then. I guess.
Quellen turned down the oxy vent. Brogg gestured to Leeward, who led Brand out of the room. Quellen said, Lets go before he changes his mind. Hes obviously wavering.
Are you coming with us, sir? Brogg asked. There was just a hint of sarcasm behind Broggs obsequious tones. Itllprobably be a pretty filthy part of town. Vermin all over the place. The criminal section
Quellen scowled. Youre right, he said. No need for me to go. You two take him. Ive got plenty to do here.
As soon as they were gone, Quellen rang Koll.
Were hot on the trail, he said. Brogg and Leeward have traced a lead to the man whos behind the hoppers. Theyve gone out to make the arrest.
Fine work, Koll said coldly. It should be an interesting investigation.
Ill report back to you as soon as
Let it go for a while. Spanner and I are discussing departmental status changes. Wed prefer not to be disturbed during the next hour. He hung up.
What did that mean, Quellen wondered? The coldness in Kolls voicewell, that was nothing unusual, but it was significant. Koll had been harrying him all week for progress on the hopper business. Now that some progress had finally been madenow that a man was in custody who could lead them to the elusive LanoyKoll had been brusque, almost totally uninterested. Kolls hiding something, Quellen thought.
His conscience pricked him. The instant suspicion returned: Koll knows about Africa. That trip I made last night was monitored, and it was the last chunk of evidence in the case against me. Now theyre getting the indictment ready.
No doubt Brogg had been offered a bigger price to talk than Quellen had been giving him to be silent, and he had sold out to the highest bidder. Koll knew everything, now. Demotion would be the least of Quellens punishments.
Quellens offense was a unique one. No one else, to his knowledge, had been shrewd enough to find that particular way out of heavily overpopulated Appalachia, the octopus of a city that spread all over the eastern half of North America. Of all the hundreds of millions of inhabitants of Appalachia, only Joseph Quellen, CrimeSec, had had the cleverness to find a bit of unknown and unregistered land in the heart of Africa and build himself a second home there. That was something for pride. He had the standard Class Seven cubicle of a room in Appalachia, plus a Class Two villa beyond the dreams of most mortals, beside a murky stream in the Congo. It was nice, very nice, for a man whose soul rebelled at the hellish conditions of Appalachian life.
But it took money to keep people bribed. Quellen had silenced everyone concerned who might know that he was living luxuriously in Africa instead of dwelling in a tenbyten cubicle in Northwest Appalachia, like a good Seven. SomeoneBrogg, he was surehad sold him out to Koll. And now Quellen was on very thin ice indeed.
A demotion would rob him even of the privilege of maintaining a private cubicle, and he would go back to sharing his home, as he had with the unlamented roommate Bruce Marok. It hadnt been so bad when Quellen had been below Class Twelve and had lived, first in the public bachelor dorms, then in gradually more private accommodations. He hadnt minded the presence of other people so much when he was younger. But when he had reached Class Eight and was put into a room with just one other person, that had been the most painful time of all, souring Quellen permanently.