parents like us. And they're right--they have their ownfutures to consider."
"They'll still write to us," he started reassuring her but she hadalready gone outside where he could hear her giving Max vocalinstructions for preparing dinner. Which was just as well--she wouldknow the truth soon enough. Without a doubt the boys were now alsoguilty by association and they'd have nothing left to lose bymaintaining contact.
At dinner, though, he felt less kindly toward her and snapped a fewtimes. Then it was Rhoda's turn to exercise forebearance and to try tosmooth things over. Once she looked out the picture window at theperfect synthetic thatch of the Williams' great cottage, peeping overthe hollyhock-topped rise of ground at the end of the garden. "Well?" hedemanded. "Well?"
"Nothing, Connor."
"You sighed and I want to know what the devil--"
"Since you insist--I was thinking how lucky Sheila Williams always is.Ten years ago the government authorized twins for her while I haven'thad a child in thirty years, and now our disaster forewarns her. She'llnever get caught off guard on a paraNormal line."
* * *
He snapped his fingers and Max brought out the pudding in a softlyshining silver bowl. Above it hovered a bluish halo of flaming brandy."Maybe not. I've heard of people even being Suspended without a reason."He slowly savored the first spoonful as if it might be the last ever.From now on every privileged pleasure would have that special value."One more year of such delights."
"If we can stand the ostracism."
"We can." Suddenly he was all angry determination. "I did the wrongthing today, admitted, but it really was the truth, what I said. I'veconcentrated right and still got wrong numbers!"
"Me too, but I kept thinking it was my own fault."
"The real truth's that while the System assumes more authority eachdecade it keeps getting less efficient."
"Well, why doesn't the government do something, get everything back inworking order?"
His grin showed no pleasure. "Do you know anybody who could help repaira Master Central Computer?"
"Not personally but there must be--"
"Must be nothing! People are slack from having it so good, don't thinkas much as they used to. Why bother when you can tap Central for anyinformation? _Almost_ any information."
"How can it all end?"
"Who knows and who cares?" He was angry all over again. "It will stillbe working well enough for a few centuries and we, we're just left outin the cold! I'm only ninety, I can live another sixty years, and you,you're going to have a good seventy-five more of this deprivation."
Max was standing at the foot of the table, metal visual lids closed ashe waited for instructions. Rhoda considered him unthinkingly, thensnapped back to attention. "Nothing more, Max, go to the kitchen anddisconnect until you hear from us."
"Yes," he said in that programmed tone which indicated endless gratitudefor the privilege of half-being.
"That ends my sad day," Connor sighed. "I'm taking a blackout pill andintend to stay that way for the next fourteen hours."
* * * * *
The next morning he rode into the city in the same car as the one thathad brought him back the day before. None of the regulars even deignedto look in his direction. There was another change today. Only twofellow Suspendeds were reading their books even though there had beenthree for the past few months. Which meant another one had exhausted hisincome and was being forced into the inner city.
At the office none of Connor's associates greeted him. They didn't evenhave to contrast the new tension in his face with the easy-going,flannelled contentment of their fellows. Undoubtedly somebody had triedto reach him or Rhoda and heard the Suspension Notice on their severedthought-lines.
As was also to be expected, there was a notice on his desk that hisexecutive services would no longer be needed.
He quickly gathered up his personal things and went downstairs, passingthrough the office workers pool. Miss Wilson, his Suspended secretary,came up to him. She looked saddened yet, curiously, almost triumphanttoo. "We all heard the bad news this morning," she said, her blue eyesnever wavering. "We want you to know how sorry we are since you're notaccustomed--"
"I'll never be accustomed to it," he said bitterly.
"No, Mr. Newman, you mustn't think that way. Human beings can getaccustomed to whatever's necessary."
"Necessary? Not in my books!"
"Some day you may feel differently. I was born into a Suspended familyand we've managed. Being on the outside has its compensations."
"Such as?"
"We-l-l--," she faltered, "I really don't know exactly. But you musthave faith it will be so." She pulled out a card from a pocket of hersheath dress. "Maybe you'll want to use this some day."
He glanced at the card which said, _John Newbridge, Doctor at Mind, 96thLevel, Harker Building, Appointments by Writing Only_. There was nothought-line coding.
"I have no doubt," he muttered. But she was starting to look hurt so hecarefully slid the card into his wallet.
"He's very helpful," she said. "I mean, helpful for people who haveadjustment problems."
"You're a good girl," he said huskily. "Maybe we'll meet someday again.I'll have my wife call--write to you so you can visit us before we haveto come into the city."
"That," she smiled happily, "would be so wonderful, Mr. Newman. I'venever been in a home like that." Then, choking with emotion, she turnedand hurried away.
* * *
When he reached home and told Rhoda what had happened, his wife was notin the least bit moved. "I'll never let that girl in my house," she saidthrough thin lips. "A classless nothing! I'm going to keep my pridewhile I can."
There was some sense to her viewpoint but, he felt uncertainly, notenough for him to remain silent. "We have to adjust, darling, can't goon thinking we're what we're not."
"Why can't we?" she exploded. "I couldn't even order food today. Max hadto go to the AutoMart and pick it up!"
"What are you trying to say?"
"That _you_ made this mess!"
For a while he listened, dully unresponsive, but eventually thevituperation became too bitter and he came back at her with equal vigor.Until, weeping, she rushed upstairs once more.
That was the first of many arguments. Anything could bring them on,instructions for Max that she chose to consider erroneous, a bitingstatement from him that she was deliberately making herself physicallyunattractive. More and more Rhoda took to going into the city while hekilled time making crude, tentative adjustments on Max. What the devil,he occasionally wondered, could she be doing there?
But most of the time he did not bother about it; he had found aconsolation of his own. At first it had been impossible to make theslightest changes in Max, even those that permitted the robot to remainconscious and give advice. Again and again his mind strained towardCentral until the icy-edged truth cut into his brain--there was no line.
Out of boredom, though, he plugged away, walked past thedisdainfully-staring eyes of neighbors to the village library, andwithdrew dusty microfiles on robotry. Eventually he had acquired alittle skill at contemplating what, essentially, remained a mystery tohis easily-tired mind. It was not completely satisfactory but it wouldbe enough to get him a better-than-average menial job when he hadfinally accepted his new condition.
At long last a letter came from Ted on Mars. It said:
Guilty by association, that's what I am! When it first happened I was furious with the two of you but resignation has its own consolations and I've given up the ranting. Of course, I've lost my job and my new one will keep me from Earth a longer time but the real loss is not being able to think on Earth Central once a day. As you know, it's a funny civilization here anyway. As yet, there's no local telepathic Central but all Active Communicators are permitted to think in on Earth Central once a day--except for the big shots who can even telepath social engagements to each other by way of
Earth! Privileged but a pretty dull crowd anyway.
Oh yes, another exception to the general ration, Suspendeds like me. Funny thing about that, seems to me there are more Suspended from the Earth System all the time. Maybe I'm imagining it.
As lovingly as ever, your son, Ted. (NO. _More_ than ever!)
Rhoda really went to pieces for a while after that letter but, oddlyenough, all recriminations soon stopped. She began going into the cityevery day and after each visit seemed a little calmer for having doneso.