Assassins -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories; Time travel -- Fiction
Dr. Reston-Farrell said, "Howard Temple-Tracy lives alone. He
customarily receives visitors every afternoon, largely potential
followers. He is attempting to recruit members to an organization he is
forming. It would be quite simple for you to enter his establishment and
dispose of him. I assure you, he does not possess weapons."
Joe was indignant. "Just like that, eh?" he said sarcastically. "Then
what happens? How do I get out of the building? Where's my get car
parked? Where do I hide out? Where do I dump the heat?"
"Dump the heat?"
"Get rid of the gun. You want I should get caught with the gun on me?
I'd wind up in the gas chamber so quick--"
"See here, Mr. Prantera," Brett-James said softly. "We no longer have
capital punishment, you must realize."
"O.K. I still don't wanta get caught. What _is_ the rap these days,
huh?" Joe scowled. "You said they didn't have no jails any more."
"This is difficult for you to understand, I imagine," Reston-Farrell
told him, "but, you see, we no longer punish people in this era."
That took a long, unbelieving moment to sink in. "You mean, like, no
matter what they do? That's crazy. Everybody'd be running around giving
it to everybody else."
"The motivation for crime has been removed, Mr. Prantera,"
Reston-Farrell attempted to explain. "A person who commits a violence
against another is obviously in need of medical care. And, consequently,
receives it."
"You mean, like, if I steal a car or something, they just take me to a
doctor?" Joe Prantera was unbelieving.
"Why would anybody wish to steal a car?" Reston-Farrell said easily.
"But if I _give it_ to somebody?"
"You will be turned over to a medical institution. Citizen Howard
Temple-Tracy is the last man you will ever kill, Mr. Prantera."
A chillness was in the belly of Joe Prantera. He said very slowly, very
dangerously, "You guys figure on me getting caught, don't you?"
"Yes," Brett-James said evenly.
"Well then, figure something else. You think I'm stupid?"
"Mr. Prantera," Dr. Reston-Farrell said, "there has been as much
progress in the field of psychiatry in the past two centuries as there
has in any other. Your treatment would be brief and painless, believe
me."
Joe said coldly, "And what happens to you guys? How do you know I won't
rat on you?"
Brett-James said gently, "The moment after you have accomplished your
mission, we plan to turn ourselves over to the nearest institution to
have determined whether or not we also need therapy."
"Now I'm beginning to wonder about you guys," Joe said. "Look, all over
again, what'd'ya wanta give it to this guy for?"
The doctor said, "We explained the other day, Mr. Prantera. Citizen
Howard Temple-Tracy is a dangerous, atavistic, evil genius. We are
afraid for our institutions if his plans are allowed to mature."
"Well if you got things so good, everybody's got it made, like, who'd
listen to him?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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