luxuryshopping center, anyway.
Morely smiled bitterly as he closed the door of his ship. It didn't payto cross Howard Morely--ever.
He walked slowly toward the landing slot, motioning imperiously to anapproaching guard.
"Have someone place that ship for me," he ordered, jerking a thumb backtoward his heli. "Then come over to that wreck. I shall want words withthe pilot." He held out his small identification folder.
The guard's glance went to the folder. For an instant, he studied thecard exposed before him, then he straightened and saluted, his faceexpressionless.
"Yes, sir." He signaled another guard, then pointed toward Morely'sship, and to the landing slot. "I can go with you now."
The two went down in the elevator and walked over to the wreckedsportster. A slender man was crawling from a door. When the man wasclear of his ship, Morely beckoned.
"Over here, Fellow," he commanded.
The sportster pilot approached, the indignation on his face changing tobewilderment, then dismay as he noted Morely's insignia and the attitudeof the two men who faced him.
Morely turned to the guard.
"Get me his name, identification number, and the name of his leader."
"Yes, sir."
The guard turned to the man, who grimaced a little with pain as heslowly put a hand in his pocket. Wordlessly, he extracted a bulkyfolder, from which he took a small booklet. He held out the booklet tothe guard.
Morely held out a hand. "Never mind," he said. "Simply put him incustody. I'll turn this over to his leader myself."
He had noted the cover design on the booklet. It was from DistrictOne--Harwood's district. He flipped the cover open, ascertaining thatthere was no transfer notice. He'd give this to Harwood all right--atthe right time. He looked at his watch.
"I shall want my heli in about three hours," he announced. "See to itthat it's ready. And have a man check the fuel and see if the ship'sdamaged in any way." He turned away.
* * * * *
The district leaders sat before the large conference table. Among them,close to the director's place, was Morely, his face fixed in anexpression of alert interest. His informant had been right. The man musthave gotten a look at the Old Man's notes. The regional director wascriticizing the laxity in inspection and control of employee activities.He objected to the excessive luxury activity allowed to some members ofthe employee classes, as well as to the overabundance of leisure allowedin several cases, some of which he described in detail.
He especially pointed up the fact that a recent heli meet had beenalmost dominated by employee class entries. And he pointed out the factthat there was considerable rehabilitation work to be done in bombedareas. It could be done by employees, during their time away from theirsubsistence jobs. That was all community time, he reminded.
It was all very well, he said, to allow the second- and even third-classcitizens a certain amount of leisure recreation. That kept morale up.But they were certainly not to be allowed any position of dominance,either individually, or as a class. That, he said, was something elseagain. It was precisely the sort of thing that had led to the collapseand downfall of many previous civilizations.
"Keep 'em busy," he ordered. "So busy they don't have time to think upmischief to get into. Remember, gentlemen, second- and third-classcitizens have no rights--only privileges. And privileges may bewithdrawn at any time."
He rapped sharply on the table and sat down, looking at the leader ofDistrict One.
One by one, the district leaders made their verbal reports of activity.Occasionally, questions of production or work quotas were brought up anddecided. Morely waited.
At last, he made his own report, emphasizing the fact that his districthad exceeded its quotas--subsistence, luxury, and rehabilitation--forthe fourth consecutive quarter. He cited a couple of communityconstruction projects he had ordered and which were well on the way tocompletion, and brought out the fact that his people, at least, werebeing inspected constantly and thoroughly.
Also, he suggested, if any time remained to be used, or if leisureactivity threatened to become excessive, it might be well to turn someattention outside of the old urban areas. There was considerable bombdamage in the suburban and former farming areas, and the scrap from someof the ruined structures could be stockpiled for disposal to factoriesand community reclamation plants.
Further, a beautification program for the entire region might keep someof the employee class busy for some time. And some of the ex-farmersamong the lower classes might find it pleasant to work once again withthe soil, instead of their normal work in the synthetic food labs ormachine shops. With the director's permission, he could start theprogram by removing the useless tower and wreckage at the bay channel,and by salvaging the metal from it. Of course, he admitted, it was atrifle beyond his own authority, since most of the channel was inDistrict One. The regional director cast him a sharp glance, thenconsidered the suggestion. At last, he nodded.
"It might be well," he decided. "Go ahead, Morely. Take care of thatdetail." He looked over at his executive. "Have Planning draw upsomething on salvage and beautification in the former rural areas," heordered. He looked about the room.
"And the rest of you might try looking over your own districts. Youdon't have to wait for a directive, and every one of you can find someimprovement that could be made. If it's a district line matter, submitsome plan for mutual agreement to my office." He rose and went to thedoor.
Morely waited, watching George Harwood. The leader of District Onegathered his papers, looked down the table for an instant, then wentout. Morely followed him at a discreet distance.
As Harwood neared the door to the regional director's office, Morelycaught up with him.
"Oh, Harwood," he said loudly. "Caught one of your people in a flagrantcase of reckless flying this morning. Why don't you bear down a littleon those fellows of yours? This one seemed to think he was winning aheli meet."
He held out the folder he had confiscated. "Here's his identification. Ihad the guards hold him for you. Second-class citizen. Must've had a lotof spare time, to get the luxury credits and purchase authorization forthat ship of his."
Harwood looked at him, a faint expression of annoyance crossing hisface. Then, he glanced at the open door nearby, and comprehension grewon his face. He took the folder, nodded wordlessly, and walked rapidlypast Morely, who turned to watch him.
As Harwood swung through the door to an elevator, Morely smiledappreciatively. That had been a smart trick, he thought. Have toremember that one. No argument to disturb the Old Man. Not even positiveproof that Morely hadn't been talking to empty space. But there was ananswer to that, too, if one was alert. He walked through the doorwayinto the director's office.
The regional director looked up.
"Oh, Morely. You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, sir." Morely stood at rigid attention. "I just thought of allthose useless highways around the countryside. Of course, a few of themhave been camouflaged and converted to temporary and emergency heliparking lots, but there's still a lot of waste concrete about that couldbe removed. It would improve the camouflage of the groups. It could bedivided into community projects for spare time work, sir."
"Very good idea. If this stalemate we're in should develop into anotherwar, it would be well to have as few landmarks as possible. And some ofthese people do have too much time on their hands. They sit around,thinking of their so-called rights. Next thing we know, some of thesecond-class citizens'll be screaming for the privilege of a vote. Setit up in your district, Morely. We'll see how it works out, and the restof the district leaders can follow your example."
He looked sharply at Morely. "Heard a little disturbance in the halljust before you came in."
"Oh, that." Morely contrived a look of confusion. "I'm sorry, sir. Ididn't mean anyone to hear that. It was just that I had a minor bit ofbusiness with Leader Harwood. One of his people nearly knocked me out ofthe air this morning,
over a parking area, and I confiscated hisidentification. I tried to give it to Harwood after the conference, buthe must have been in a hurry. I caught up with him and gave him thefolder."
"So I heard." The director smiled wryly. "Anything more?"
"No, sir." Morely saluted and left.
"That," he told himself, "should drop Harwood a few points."
He went to the parking area to reclaim his helicopter. Better get backto his district and start setting up those community projects. Too, hewould have to run a check inspection or so this evening. See to it hissector men weren't getting lax. He'd check on Bond tonight.
* * * * *
He flew back to District