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force of the Security procedures. He liked his brother-in-law and helped him
when he could, all of the time with the knowledge that his work had something
to do with Security, but the reality of what Security did was far removed from
normal experience. No more. The first lightning bolt had hit very close to
home. Despite the cold bite of the north wind Jan could feel a filming of
perspiration on his face. Damn, hut
Securitywas good! Too good. He had never expected efficiency of this kind.
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It had taken skill and knowledge on his part to get through the blocks that
concealed the computer memory he had wanted. But he realized now that these
barriers had been there only to prevent accidental and casual access to the
information. It would take a determined and resourceful person to get past
them-and their only function was to make sure that this was not done eaiily.
Once passed, a greater danger lay in wait. National secrets were meant to be
kept secret. The instant he had penetrated to that information the trap had
been closed, his signal detected, recorded, traced. All of his elaborate
safeguards had been instantly penetrated. The thought was a frightening one.
It meant that all of the communication lines in the country, public and
private, were being monitored and controlled by the Security forces. Their
powers appeared to be limitless. They could hear any conversation, tap any
computer memory. Constant monitoring of all phone calls was of course
physically impossible. Or was it? Monitoring programs could be written that
would listen for certain words and phrases and record anything that contained
them. The possible scope of the surveillance was frightening.
Why should they do all this? They had changed history-altered the true story
of the world-and could monitor the world's citizens. Who were th~? The overall
answer appeared obvious when phrased that way. There were a few people at the
top of society and a lot at the bottom. The ones on top wanted to stay there.
And he was one of the ones on top so, unknown to him, this was all being done
to make sure he kept his status unchanged. So all he had to do to keep his
privileged position was absolutely nothing. Forget what he had heard, what he
had uncovered, and the world would be the same.
For him. And what about the others? He had never thought about the proles much
before this. They were everywhere and nowhere. Always present, always unseen.
He had accepted their role in life as he had always accepted his own;
something there and unchanging~ What must it be like to be one? What if he
were one?
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Jan shivered. The cold, it was getting to him. Just the cold~ There was the
laser hologram sign of an all-night store up ahead and he hurried toward it;
the door opened as he approached and admitted him to the welcoming warmth.
There were some things he needed for the kitchen. He would buy them now and
take his mind away from the morbidity of his thoughts. The next service number
was seventeen, and it changed to eighteen when he touched the plate. Milk, he
was sure he needed some of that. He typed seventeen on -the number pad under
the display liter of milk, then one.
Butter, yes, he was low on that too.
And oranges, firm and ripe. With the word Jaffa bold on each of them. Flown in
fresh from summer to northern winter. He turned quickly away and hurried to
the checkout.
"Seventeen," he said to the girl at the counter and she typed in the number.
"Four pounds ten, sir. Do you want them delivered?"
Jan handed over his credit card and nodded. She inserted it into the machine,
then returned it to him. His purchases appeared in a basket and she redirected
it back inside for delivery.
"Been a cold day," Jan said. "Quite a wind blowing."
She opened her mouth slightly, then turned away when she caught his glance.
She had
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Harrison, Harry - To the Stars Trilogy.txt heard his accent, seen his clothes;
there could be no casual conversation between them. The girl was aware of that
even if Jan wasn't. He pushed out into the night, glad of the cold bite of air
on his glowing cheeks.
Back in the apartment he realized that he had no appetite at all. He eyed the
whiskey bottle, but that would not be a satisfactory answer. In the end he
compromised with a bottle of beer, dialed up a Bach string quartet, and
wondered just what the hell he was going to do.
What could he do? Through ignorance and good luck he had missed being caught
when he had first tried to gain forbidden information. He couldn't try that
again, not that way. The work camps in Scotland were waiting if you made
trouble for the authorities. For all of his life he had looked on the camps as
a stern but necessary measure to weed the troublemakers out of a highly
organized society. Prole troublemakers of course, the thought O{ any other
kind was unthinkable. Thinkable enough now when he might be one of them. If he
did anything at all to draw attention to himself he could be caught. Just like
a prole. Perhaps his sector of society was
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prisoner of it. What kind of world was he living in? And how did he find out
more about it without making that one-way trip td the Highlands?
There was no simple answer to his questions that day or the next, or the next.
At the laboratory it was easy enough to get involved in his work, which was
still complex and interesting. It was appreciated too.
"I cannot begin to say in words how happy I am with what you have done here,"
Sonia
Amarigho said. 'And in such a short time."
"It's been easy so far," Jan told her, spooning sugar into his tea. It was the
afternoon break and he was seriously thinking of leaving after it. "Basically
what I
did was upgrade the old designs. But I see where some original work will be
needed very soon, particularly on the comsat twenty-one, and that will not be
the easiest job."
"But you can do it. I have infinite faith! Now, to other matters. Social ones.
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