The Simulacra

‘Better to lose him than to move prematurely against Luke!' She had a good deal of respect for Luke; she had known him, and his operations, for a good long time. She had seen him easily evade the City Police.

‘I have an interesting report from the Karp Werke.' Obviously Pembroke was now desperately trying to switch the topic under discussion. ‘They've decided to penetrate the Frauenzimmer organization in order to -- ‘

‘Later.' Nicole scowled at him. ‘You know now you've made a mistake. Really, down underneath, I enjoy those jalopy jungles; they're amusing. You simply can't fathom that; you've got a cop's mind. Call your San Francisco unit and tell them to release the lot if they've found it. And if they haven't found it, tell them to give up. Bring them back in and forget about it; when the time arrives to proceed against Luke I'll tell you.'

‘Harold Slezak agreed -- ‘

‘Slezak doesn't make policy. I'm surprised you didn't get Rudi Kalbfleisch's approval on this. That would have been even more like you NP people. I really don't like you, I find you unsavoury.' She stared at him until he shrank back.

‘Well?' she said. ‘Say something.'

With dignity, Pembroke said, ‘They haven't found the lot, so no harm has been done.' He flicked on his com system.

‘Give up on the lots,' he said into it. At this moment he did not look very imposing; he was still perspiring freely.

‘Forget the whole damn thing. Yes, that's right.' He clicked the system off and raised his head to face Nicole.

‘You should be busted,' Nicole said.

‘Anything else, Mrs Thibodeaux?' Pembroke's voice was wooden.

‘No. Scram.'

Pembroke with measured, stiff steps, departed.

Looking at her wristwatch, Nicole saw that the time was eight P.M. And what had been pla

She walked through the White House to Janet Raimer's tidy office. ‘Do you have anything spectacular coming along?' she demanded.

Rattling her notes, Janet frowned and said. ‘One act I'd call truly astonishing -- a jug act. Classical. Duncan & Miller; I watched them at The Abraham Lincoln and they're terrific.' She smiled hopefully.

Nicole groaned.

‘They really are quite good.' Janet's voice was insistent, now. Commanding. ‘It's relaxing: I'd like you to please give it a try. That's either for tonight or tomorrow, I'm not certain which Slezak scheduled it for.'

‘Jug acts,' Nicole said. ‘We've gone from Richard Kongrosian to that. I'm begi

‘Maybe things will pick up when the next der Alte takes office,' Janet said.

Regarding her keenly, Nicole said, ‘How is it that you know about that?'

‘Everybody in the White House is talking about it. Anyhow,' Janet Raimer bristled, ‘I'm a Ge.'

‘How wonderful,' Nicole said sardonically. ‘Then you must lead a truly delightful life.'

‘May I ask what this next der Alte will be like?'

‘Old,' Nicole said. Old and tired, she thought to herself. A worn-out stringbean, stiff and formal, full of moralizing speeches; a real leader type who can drum obedience into the Be masses. Who can keep the system creaking along a while longer. And, according to the von Lessinger technicians he will be the final der Alte.

At least, most likely.

And they are not certain quite why. We seem to have a chance but it is a small one. Time, and the dialectic forces of history are on the side of -- the worst creature possible. That vulgar buttinski, Bertold Goltz.

However, the future was not fixed and there was always room for the unexpected, the improbable; everyone who had handled von Lessinger equipment understood that ... time travel was still merely an art, not an exact science.

‘He will be called,' Nicole said, ‘Dieter Hogben.'

Janet giggled. ‘Oh no, not actually "Dieter Hogben", or is it "Hogbein"? What in the world are you trying to achieve?'

‘He will be very dignified,' Nicole said stiffly.

There was a sudden noise behind her; she turned and found herself facing Wilder Pembroke, the NP man. Pembroke looked agitated but pleased. ‘Mrs Thibodeaux, we've caught Richard Kongrosian. As Dr Superb predicted, he was at a jalopy jungle preparing to depart for Mars. Shall we bring him to the White House? The San Francisco squad is waiting for instructions; they're still at the lot.'

‘I'll go there,' Nicole decided, on impulse. And ask him, she said to herself, to give up the idea of emigrating. Voluntarily. I know I can persuade him -- we won't have to resort to blunt force.'

‘He says he's invisible,' Pembroke said, as he and Nicole hurried along the White House corridor towards the offtrans field on the roof. ‘The squad however says he appears perfectly visible, at least to them.'

‘Another of his delusions,' Nicole said. ‘We ought to be able to clear that right up; I'll tell him he's visible and that will be that.'

‘And his smell -- ‘

‘Oh, the hell with it,' Nicole said. ‘I'm tired of his ailments. I'm tired of having him pamper himself in his hypochondriacal obsessions. I'm going to toss the entire power and majesty and authority of the state at him, tell him pointblank that he's got to give his imaginary diseases up.'

‘I wonder what that will do to him,' Pembroke mused.

‘He'll comply, of course,' Nicole said. ‘He won't have any choice; that's the whole point -- I'm not asking him, I'm going to tell him.'

Pembroke glanced at her, then shrugged.

‘We've fooled around with this too long,' Nicole said.

‘Smell or not, invisible or not, Kongrosian is an employee of the White House; he's got to appear on schedule and perform, or else. He can't sneak away to Mars or Franklin Aimes or Je

‘Yes ma'am,' Pembroke said hollowly, preoccupied with his own convoluted thoughts.

When Ian Duncan reached Jalopy Jungle Number Three in downtown San Francisco he found that he was too late to warn Al. Because the NP had already arrived; he saw parked police cars and grey-clad NP men swarming over the lot.

‘Let me out here,' he instructed his auto-cab. He was a block away from the lot; that was close enough.

He paid the cab and then set out, warily, on foot. A small knot of curious passers-by with nothing else to do had formed, and Ian Duncan joined them, rubber-necking at the NP men, pretending to wonder why they were there.

‘What's up?' the man next to Ian asked him. ‘I thought they weren't going to crack down on these jalopy lots yet. I thought -- ‘

‘Must be a change in govpol,' the woman on Ian's left said.

‘ "Govpol," ‘ the man echoed, puzzled.

‘A Ge term,' the woman said haughtily. ‘Government policy.'

‘Oh,' the man said. He nodded meekly.

Ian said to him, ‘Now you know a Ge term.'

‘That's so.' The man perked up. ‘So I do.'

‘I knew a Ge term, once,' Ian said. He caught sight now of Al, inside the office, seated facing two NP men. Another man was with Al; in fact two other men. One, Ian decided was Richard Kongrosian. The other -- he recognized him; it was a fellow-inhabitant of The Abraham Lincoln Apartments, Mr Chic Strikerock from the top floor. Ian had run into him a number of times at meetings and in the cafeteria.

His brother Vince was currently their identification reader.

‘The term I knew,' he murmured, ‘was allost.'

‘What's "allost" mean?" the man beside him asked.

‘All's lost,' Ian said.

The term applied right now. Obviously, Al was under arrest; so in fact were Strikerock and Kongrosian, but Ian did not care about them -- he was thinking about Duncan & Miller, Classical Jugs; about the future which had opened up when Al had decided to play once more; the future which now had closed so decisively in their faces. I should have expected this, Ian said to himself. That just before we got to the White House the NP would step in and arrest Al, put an end to it all. It's the luck that's tracked me all my life. No reason why it should relent now.