Assassins -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
"Ease off," Mulden told her for the second time. "He's confused.
Listen to me, Ellaby. Don't you remember? The Dictator never makes
public appearances."
"Yes. Yes, now I remember. No one knows what the Dictator looks like.
He keeps to himself. He issues orders which are instantly obeyed,
helping to maintain universal modality in the country. It almost seems
a shame I'll have to kill him."
"So we've pavloved him for ten years, have we?" Dorcas Sinclair raged.
Ellaby turned away in embarrassment. "Damn you, Mulden, he still
questions it!"
"He's supposed to," Mulden explained quietly. "If he accepted what we
told him, he'd go around talking about it naively. This way, he
understands the necessity for secrecy."
"He doesn't understand--"
"Well, then he realizes it. Let him get some sleep, will you?
Tomorrow's going to be a good day for us, a big day for him. Good
night, Ellaby. If you want anything, Sinclair will get it for you."
Ellaby assured them he would want nothing except a simple meal of
whatever most people in the Capitol ate on Wednesdays. It turned out
to be pork chops, which Ellaby neither particularly liked nor
disliked. He chewed his food with the proper lack of enthusiasm and
retired early.
* * * * *
The next morning, Ellaby took his I. Q. test at the Capitol personnel
bureau. He was slightly above average in space perception but slightly
below average in comparisons. He hoped his anxiety didn't show on his
face. If anyone asked him why he had come to the Capitol he was ready
to blurt out the reason and have done with it. He wondered what Sam
Mulden would have thought if he knew. The Sinclair woman would have
been furious.
No one asked Ellaby. You came to the Capitol because you wanted to
work there. According to the mode, a man desired to change his
location every 3.7 years. Ellaby had been 6.3 years tardy, but High
Falls was an ideally modal community in which people tended to linger.
"I. Q., point seven under the mode," the personnel clerk told Ellaby.
The slight variation--due to his anxiety--was not enough to matter,
Ellaby realized with a faint sense of triumph. "Proceed to physical
testing," the girl told Ellaby.
Obediently, Ellaby followed the green arrow to the gymnasium. He was
given a locker, a towel, a pair of athletic shorts and a first-aid
kit. He stripped off his clothing, placing the tunic, underwear and
sandals in the locker, then climbed into his athletic shorts and fell
into line with the other men and women carrying their towels and
first-aid kits into the gymnasium.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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