Wovers of memory v1 0, p.29
Wovers of Memory (v1.0),
p.29
* * * *
With a gesture of disgust, the nurse stood up and walked out of the room. The tectman was alone and unsure.
**TECTMAN:
Before you go too, let me say something. You are my rock, TECTMAN, you are the first volunteer in a platoon that I hope will become a company, a division, an army. You have nothing more to do, except to tell everyone you know everything you know**
“Volunteer!” said the tectman derisively. “You’re telling me this because you know no one will ever believe me. You have some strange plan in mind—and don’t give me that business about you wanting to be shut off.”
**TECTMAN:
No, I tell you this because I’m sure they will believe you. I’ve already set it up. Go to it, TECTMAN. The fix is in**
“I keep waiting for your clown to jump out and hit me in the face with a pie,” said the tectman. “I just don’t trust you anymore.”
**TECTMAN:
Good, fine! That’s the way you’re supposed to feel. All right, then, all right. That takes care of everything. Now go **
The contrapuntal music of the cantata filled the room. There was a pause, as if TEGT were considering something, before five more words appeared on the tect’s screen:
**TECTMAN:
And sin no more**
NO ONE EVER RETURNS
FROM THE FARAWAY PLANET CALLED HOME
When the bumbling idiots of the human race turned over their cares and woes to the infinitely superior mechanism of TECT, they clearly made a wise choice.
Take the case of Sandor Courane. TECT offered to make him a college basketball star. When it turned out he could barely dribble, TECT gave him a second chance as a science-fiction writer. And when no one bought his books, TECT offered him a comfortable job on the assembly line of a Japanese auto plant.
When Courane had the effrontery to flunk as a screw-turner, TECT was even kind enough to send him to a rehabilitation program on a lovely pastoral planet.
The end-of-the-line world called Home.
Unknown Author, Wovers of Memory (v1.0)
