CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
James Holden's ride home on the train gave him a chance to think, aloneand isolated from all but superficial interruptions. He felt that he wasquite the bright young man.
He noticed with surreptitious pride that folks no longer eyed him withsly, amused, knowing smiles whenever he opened a newspaper. Perhaps someof their amusement had been the sight of a youngster struggling with afull-spread page, employing arms that did not quite make the span. Butmost of all he hated the condescending tolerance; their everlastingattitude that everything he did was "cute" like the little girl whodecked herself out in mother's clothing from high heels and brassiereto evening gown, costume jewelry, and a fumbled smear of makeup.
That was over. He'd made it to a couple of months over fourteen, he'dfinally reached a stature large enough so that he did not have to provehis right to buy a railroad ticket, nor climb on the suitcase bar so thathe could peer over the counter. Newsdealers let him alone to pick his ownfare instead of trying to "save his money" by shoving Mickey Mouse at himand putting his own choice back on its pile.
He had not succeeded in gaining his legal freedom, but as Ward of theState under Judge Carter he had other interesting expectations that hemight not have stumbled upon. Carter had connections; there was talk ofJames' entering a comprehensive examination at some university, where theexamining board, forearmed with the truth about his education, would testJames to ascertain his true level of comprehension. He could of coursecollect his bachelor's degree once he complied with the required workof term papers written to demonstrate that his information could beinterwoven into the formation of an opinion, or reflection, or viewof some topic. Master's degrees and doctor's degrees required thepresentation of some original area of study, competence in his chosenfield, and the development of some facet of the field that had not beentouched before. These would require more work, but could be handled intime.
In fact, he felt that he was in pretty good shape. There were a coupleof sticky problems, still. He wanted Paul Brennan to get his comeuppance,but he knew that there was no evidence available to support his storyabout the slaughter of his parents. It galled him to realize thatcold-blooded, premeditated murder for personal profit and avarice couldgo undetected. But until there could be proffered some material evidence,Brennan's word was as good as his in any court. So Brennan was gettingaway with it.
The other little item was his own independence. He wanted it. That hemight continue living with Judge Carter had no bearing. No matter howbenevolent the tyranny, James wanted no part of it. In fighting for hisfreedom, James Holden's foot had slipped. He'd used his father's machineon Martha, and that was a legal error.
Martha? James was not really sorry he'd slipped. Error or not, he'd madeof her the only person in the world who understood his problem wholly andsympathetically. Otherwise he would be completely alone.
Oh yes, he felt that he was quite the bright young man. He was comingalong fine and getting somewhere. His very pleasant experiences in thehouse on Martin's Hill had raised him from a boy to a young man; he wasnow able to grasp the appreciation of the Big Drive, to understand someof the reasons why adults acted in the way that they did. He hadn'tmanaged another late session of sofa with Martha, but there had beenlittle incidental meetings in the hallway or in the kitchen with theexchange of kisses, and they'd boldly kissed goodbye at the railroadstation under her mother's smile.
He could not know Janet Fisher's mind, of course. Janet, mother to a girlentering young womanhood, worried about all of the things that such amother worries about and added a couple of things that no other motherever had. She could hardly slip her daughter a smooth version of thebirds and the bees and people when she knew full well that Martha hadgone through a yard or so of books on the subject that covered everythingfrom the advanced medical to the lurid expose and from the salacious tothe ribald. Janet could only hope that her daughter valued her chastityaccording to convention despite the natural human curiosity which inMartha would be multiplied by the girl's advanced education. Janet knewthat young people were marrying younger and younger as the years went on;she saw young James Holden no longer as a rather odd youngster withabilities beyond his age. She saw him now as the potential mate forMartha. And when they embraced and kissed at the station, Janet did notrealize that she was accepting this salute as the natural act of twosub-adults, rather than a pair of precocious kids.
At any rate, James Holden felt very good. Now he had a girl. He hadacquired one more of the many attitudes of the Age of Maturity.
So James settled down to read his newspaper, and on page three he saw aphotograph and an article that attracted his attention. The photographwas of a girl no more than seven years old holding a baby at least a yearold. Beside them was a boy of about nine. In the background was amiserable hovel made of crude lumber and patched windows. This couple andtheir baby had been discovered by a geological survey outfit living inthe backwoods hills. Relief, aid, and help were being rushed, and thelegislature was considering ways and means of their schooling. Neitherof them could read or write.
James read the article, and his first thought was to proffer his help.Aid and enlightenment they needed, and they needed it quickly. And thenhe stopped immediately because he could do nothing to educate them unlessthey already possessed the ability to read.
His second thought was one of dismay. His exultation came down with adull thud. Within seconds he realized that the acquisition of a girl wasno evidence of his competent maturity. The couple photographed were humanbeings, but intellectually they were no more than animals with a slightedge in vocabulary. It made James Holden sick at heart to read thearticle and to realize that such filth and ignorance could still go on.But it took a shock of such violence to make James realize that clams,guppies, worms, fleas, cats, dogs, and the great whales reproduced theirkind; intellect, education and mature competence under law had nothing todo with the process whatsoever.
And while his heart was still unhappy, he turned to page four and read anopen editorial that discussed the chances of The Educational Party in thecoming Election Year.
* * * * *
James blinked.
"Splinter" parties, the editorial said, seldom succeeded in gaining aprimary objective. They only succeeded in drawing votes from the othermajor parties, in splitting the total ballot, and dividing publicopinion. On the other hand, they did provide a useful politicalweathervane for the major parties to watch most carefully. If thesplinter party succeeded in capturing a large vote, it was an indicationthat the People found their program favorable and upon such evidence itbehooved the major parties to mend their political fences--or to relocatethem.
Education, said the editorial, was a primary issue and had been onefor years. There had been experimenting with education ever sincethe Industrial Revolution uncovered the fact, in about 1900, thatbackbreaking physical toil was going to be replaced by educated workersoperating machinery.
Then the editorial quoted Judge Norman L. Carter:
"'For many years,' said Judge Carter, 'we have deplored the situationwhereby a doctor or a physicist is not considered fully educated until hehas reached his middle or even late twenties. Yet instead of speeding upthe curriculum in the early school years, we have introduced suchimportant studies as social graces, baton twirling, interpretive paintingand dancing, and a lot of other fiddle-faddle which graduates studentswho cannot spell, nor read a book, nor count above ten without taking offtheir shoes. Perhaps such studies are necessary to make sound citizensand graceful companions. I shall not contest the point. However, Icontend that a sound and basic schooling should be included--and when Iso contend I am told by our great educators that the day is not longenough nor the years great enough to accomplish this very necessary end.
"'Gentlemen, we leaders of The Education Party propose to accomplishprecisely that which they said cannot be done!'"
The editorial closed with the terse suggestion: Educator--Educatethysel
f!
James Holden sat stunned.
_What was Judge Carter doing?_
* * * * *
James Holden arrived to find the home of Judge Norman L. Carter an upsetmadhouse. He was stopped at the front door by a secretary at a small deskwhose purpose was to screen the visitors and to log them in and out inaddition to being decorative. Above her left breast was a large enamelledbutton, red on top, white in the middle as a broad stripe from left toright, and blue below. Across the white stripe was printed CARTER inbold, black letters. From in back of the pin depended two broad silkribbons that cascaded forward over the stuffing in her brassiere and hungfree until they disappeared behind the edge of the desk. She eyed Jameswith curiosity. "Young man, if you're looking for throwaways for yourcivics class, you'll have to wait until we're better organized--"
James eyed her with cold distaste. "I am James Quincy Holden," he toldher, "and you have neither the authority nor the agility necessary toprevent my entrance."
"You are--I what?"
"I live here," he told her flatly. "Or didn't they provide you with thistidbit of vital statistic?"
Wheels rotated behind the girl's eyes somewhere, and memory cells linkedinto comprehension. "Oh!--You're James."
"I said that first," he replied. "Where's Judge Carter?"
"He's in conference and cannot be disturbed."
"Your objection is overruled. I shall disturb him as soon as I find outprecisely what has been going on."
He went on in through the short hallway and found audible confusion. Menin groups of two to four stood in corners talking in bedlam. There was alayer of blue smoke above their heads that broke into skirls as variousindividuals left one group to join another. Through this vocal mob sceneJames went veering from left to right to avoid the groupings. He stoodwith polite insolence directly in front of two men sitting on the stairsuntil they made room for his passage--still talking as he went betweenthem. In his room, three were sitting on the bed and the chair holdingglasses and, of course, smoking like the rest. James dropped hisovernight bag on a low stand and headed for his bathroom. One of the mencaught sight of him and said, "Hey kid, scram!"
James looked at the man coldly. "You happen to be using my bedroom. Youshould be asking my permission to do so, or perhaps apologizing for nothaving asked me before you moved in. I have no intention of leaving."
"Get the likes of him!"
"Wait a moment, Pete. This is the Holden kid."
"The little genius, huh?"
James said, "I am no genius. I do happen to have an education thatprovides me with the right to criticize your social behavior. I willneither be insulted nor patronized."
"Listen to him, will you!"
James turned and with the supreme gesture of contempt, he left the dooropen.
He wound his way through the place to Judge Carter's study and homeoffice, strode towards it with purpose and reached for the doorknob. Avoice halted him: "Hey kid, you can't go in there!"
Turning to face the new voice, James said calmly,
"You mean 'may not' which implies that I have asked your permission. Yourstatement is incorrect as phrased and erroneous when corrected."
He turned the knob and entered. Judge Carter sat at his desk with twomen; their discussion ceased with the sound of the doorknob. The judgelooked up in annoyance. "Hello, James. You shouldn't have come in here.We're busy. I'll let you know when I'm free."
"You'd better make time for me right now," said James angrily. "I'd liketo know what's going on here."
"This much I'll tell you quickly. We're planning a political campaign.Now, please--"
"I know you're planning a political campaign," replied James. "But ifyou're proposing to campaign on the platform of a reform in education,I suggest that you educate your henchmen in the rudimentary elements ofpolite speech and gentle behavior. I dislike being ordered out of my roomby usurpers who have the temerity to address me as 'hey kid'."
"Relax, James. I'll send them out later."
"I'd suggest that you tell them off," snapped James. He turned on hisheel and left, heading for the cellar. In the workshop he found ProfessorWhite and Jack Cowling presiding over the machine. In the chair with theheadset on sat the crowning insult of all:
Paul Brennan leafing through a heavy sheaf of papers, reading andintoning the words of political oratory.
Unable to lick them, Brennan had joined them--or, wondered young Holden,was Judge Norman L. Carter paying for Brennan's silence with some plum ofpolitical patronage?
* * * * *
As he stood there, the years of persecution rose strong in the mind ofJames Holden. Brennan, the man who'd got away with murder and wouldcontinue to get away with it because there was no shred of evidence, nowitness, nothing but James Holden's knowledge of Brennan's actions whenhe'd thought himself unseen in his calloused treatment of James Holden'sdying mother; Brennan's critical inspection of the smashed body of hisfather, coldly checking the dead flesh to be sure beyond doubt; the cruelsearch about the scene of the 'accident' for James himself--interruptedonly by the arrival of a Samaritan, whose name was never known to JamesHolden. In James rose the violent resentment of the years, the certainknowledge that any act of revenge upon Paul Brennan would be viewed ascold-blooded premeditated murder without cause or motive.
And then came the angry knowledge that simple slaughter was too good forPaul Brennan. He was not a dog to be quickly released from misery by amerciful death. Paul Brennan should suffer until he cried for death as ablessed release from daily living.
James Holden, angry, silently, unseen by the preoccupied workers,stole across the room to the main switch-panel, flipped up a smallhalf-concealed cover, and flipped a small button.
There came a sharp _Crack_! that shattered the silence andre-echoed again and again through the room. The panel that held therepeater-circuit of the Holden Educator bulged outward; jets of smokelanced out of broken metal, bulged corners, holes and skirled into littleclouds that drifted upward--trailing a flowing billow of thick, black,pungent smoke that reached the low ceiling and spread outward, fanwise,obscuring the ceiling like a low-lying nimbus.
At the sound of the report, the man in the chair jumped as if he'd beenstabbed where he sat.
"Ouyeowwww!" yowled Brennan in a pitiful ululation. He fell forward fromthe chair, asprawl on wobbly hands and knees, on elbows and knees as hetried to press away the torrent of agony that hammered back and forthfrom temple to temple. James watched Brennan with cold detachment,Professor White and Jack Cowling looked on in paralyzed horror. Slowly,oh, so slowly, Paul Brennan managed to squirm around until he was sittingon the floor still cradling his head between his hands.
James said, "I'm afraid that you're going to have a rough time wheneveryou hear the word 'entrenched'." And then, as Brennan made no response,James Holden went on, "Or were you by chance reading the word'pedagogue'?"
At the word, Brennan howled again; the pain was too much for him and hetoppled sidewise to writhe in kicking agony.
James smiled coldly, "I'm sorry that you weren't reading the word 'the'.The English language uses more of them than the word 'pedagogue'."
With remarkable effort, Brennan struggled to his feet; he lurched towardJames. "I'll teach you, you little--"
"Pedagogue?" asked James.
The shock rocked Brennan right to the floor again.
"Better sit there and think," said James coldly. "You come within a dozenyards of me and I'll say--"
"No! Don't!" screamed Paul Brennan. "Not again!"
"Now," asked James, "what's going on here?"
"He was memorizing a political speech," said Jack Cowling. "What did youdo?"
"I merely fixed my machine so that it will not be used again."
"But you shouldn't have done that!"
"You shouldn't have been using it for this purpose," replied James. "Itwasn't intended to further political ambitions."
"But Judge Carter--"
"Judge Carter doesn't own it," said James. "I do."
"I'm sure that Judge Carter can explain everything."
"Tell him so. Then add that if he'd bothered to give me the time of day,I'd be less angry. He's not to be interrupted, is he? I'm ordered out ofmy room, am I? Well, go tell the judge that his political campaign hasbeen stopped by a fourteen-year-old boy who knows which button to push!I'll wait here."
Professor White took off; Jack Cowling smiled crookedly and shook hishead at James. "You're a rash young man," he said. "What did you do toBrennan, here?"
James pointed at the smoke curling up out of the panel. "I put in adestructive charge to addle the circuit as a preventive measure againstcapture or use by unauthorized persons," he replied. "So I pushed thebutton just as Brennan was trying to memorize the word--"
"Don't!" cried Brennan in a pleading scream.
"You mean he's going to throw a fit every time he hears the word--"
"No! No! Can't anybody talk without saying--Ouwwouooo!"
"Interesting," commented James. "It seems to start as soon as thefore-reading part of his mind predicts that the word may be next, orwhen he thinks about it."
"Do you mean that Brennan is going to be like the guy who could win theworld if he sat on the top of a hill for one hour and did not think ofthe word 'Swordfish'? Except that he'll be out of pain so long as hedoesn't think of the word--"
"Thing I'm interested in is that maybe our orator here doesn't know thedefinition thoroughly. Tell me, dear 'Uncle' Paul, does the word'teacher' give--Sorry. I was just experimenting. Wasn't as bad as--"
Gritting his teeth and wincing with pain, Brennan said, "Stop it!Even the word 'sch-(wince)-ool' hurts like--" He thought for amoment and then went on with his voice rising to a pitifulhowl of agony at the end: "Even the name 'Miss Adams' givesme a fleeting headache all over my body, and Miss Adams wason--ly--my--third--growww--school--Owuuuuoooo--teach--earrrrrrr--Owwww!"
Brennan collapsed in his chair just as Judge Carter came in with hiswhite mane flying and hot fire in his attitude. "What goes on here?" hestormed at James.
"I stopped your campaign."
"Now see here, you young--"
Judge Carter stopped abruptly, took a deep breath and calmed himself witha visible effort to control his rage. "James," he said in a quietervoice, "Can you repair the damage quickly?"
"Yes--but I won't."
"And why not?"
"Because one of the things my father taught me was the danger of allowingthis machine to fall into the hands of ruthless men with politicalambition."
"And I am a ruthless man with political ambition?"
James nodded. "Under the guise of studying me and my machine," he said,"you've been using it to train speakers, and to educate ward-heelers.You've been building a political machine by buying delegates. Not withmoney, of course, because that is illegal. With knowledge, and becauseknowledge, education, and information are intangibles and no legalityhas been established, and this is all very legal."
Judge Carter smiled distantly. "It is bad to elevate the mind of theaverage ward-heeler? To provide the smalltime politician with a finegrasp of the National Problem and how his little local problems fit intothe big picture? Is this making a better world, or isn't it?"
"It's making a political machine that can't be defeated."
"Think not? What makes you think it can't?"
"Pedagogue!" said James.
"Yeowwww!"
The judge whirled to look at Brennan. "What was--that?" asked the judge.
James explained what had happened, then: "I've mentioned hazards. This iswhat would happen if a fuse blew in the middle of a course. Maybe he canbe trained out of it, and maybe not. You'll have to try, of course. Butthink of what would happen if you and your political machine put thesethings into schools and fixed them to make a voltage twitch or somethingwhile the student was reading the word 'republican'. You'd end up with asingle-party system."
"And get myself assassinated by a group of righteously irate citizens,"said Judge Carter. "Which I would very warmly deserve. On the other hand,suppose we 'treated' people to feel anguish at thoughts of murder orkilling, theft, treason, and other forms of human deviltry?"
"Now that might be a fine idea."
"It would not," said Judge Carter flatly. James Holden's eyes widened,and he started to say something but the judge held up his hand, fingersoutspread, and began to tick off his points finger by finger as he wenton: "Where would we be in the case of enemy attack? Could our policemenaim their guns at a vicious criminal if they were conditioned againstkilling? Could our butchers operate; must our housewives live among ahorde of flies? Theft? Well, it's harder to justify, James, but it wouldchange the game of baseball as in 'stealing a base' or it would ruin thegame of love as in 'stealing a kiss'. It would ruin the mystery-storyfield for millions of people who really haven't any inclination to go outand rob, steal, or kill. Treason? Our very revered Declaration ofIndependence is an article of Treason in the eyes of King George Third;it wouldn't be very hard to draw a charge of treason against a man whocomplained about the way the Government is being run. Now, one moreangle, James. The threat or fear of punishment hasn't deterred anypotential felon so far as anybody knows. And I hold the odd belief thatif we removed the quart of mixed felony, chicanery, falsehood, andunderhandedness from the human makeup, on that day the human race couldstep down to take its place alongside of the cow, just one step ahead ofthe worm.
"Now you accuse me of holding political ambition. I plead guilty of thecharge and demand to be shown by my accuser just what is undesirableabout ambition, be it political or otherwise. Have you no ambition? Ofcourse you have. Ambition drove your folks to create this machine andambition drove you to the fight for your freedom. Ambition is thecatalyst that lifts a man above his fellows and then lifts them also.There is a sort of tradition in this country that a man must not openlyseek the office of the Presidency. I consider this downright silly. Ihave announced my candidacy, and I intend to campaign for it as hard asI can. I propose to make the problem of _education_ the most importantargument that has ever come up in a presidential campaign. I believe thatI shall win because I shall promise to provide this accelerated educationfor everybody who wants it."
"And to do this you've used my machine," objected James.
"Did you intend to keep it for yourself?" snapped Judge Carter.
"No, but--"
"And when did you intend to release it?"
"As soon as I could handle it myself."
"Oh, fine!" jeered the judge sourly. "Now, let me orate on that subjectfor a moment and then we'll get to the real meat of this argument. James,there is no way of delivering this machine to the public withoutdelivering it to them through the hands of a capable Government agency.If you try to release it as an individual you'll be swamped with cries ofanger and pleas for special consideration. The reactionaries will shoutthat we're moving too fast and the progressives will complain that wearen't moving fast enough. Teachers' organizations will say that we'rethrowing teachers out of jobs, and little petty politicians will try toslip their political plug into the daily course in Civics. Start yourcompany and within a week some Madison Avenue advertising agency will beoffering you several million dollars to let them convince people thatHickory-Chickory Coffee is the only stuff they can pour down their gulletwithout causing stomach pains, acid system, jittery nerves, sleeplessnights, flat feet, upset glands, and so on and on and on. Announce it;the next day you'll have so many foreign spies in your bailiwick thatyou'll have to hire a stadium to hold them. You'll be duckingintercontinental ballistic missiles because there are people who wouldkill the dog in order to get rid of the fleas. You'll start the biggestwar this planet has ever seen and it will go on long after you are killedand your father's secret is lost--and after the fallout has died off,we'll have another scientific race to recreate it. And don't think thatit can't be rediscovered by determined scientists who know
that such athing as the Holden Electromechanical Educator is a reality."
"And how do you propose to prevent this war?"
"By broadcasting the secret as soon as we can; let the British and theFrench and the Russians and the Germans and all the rest build it anduse it as wisely as they can program it. Which, by the way, James,brings us right back to James Quincy Holden, Martha Bagley, and theimmediate future."
"Oh?"
"Yes. James, tell me after deliberation, at what point in your life didyou first believe that you had the competence to enter the adult world infreedom to do as you believed right?"
"Um, about five or six, as I recall."
"What do you think now about those days?"
James shrugged. "I got along."
"Wasn't very well, was it?"
"No, but I was under a handicap, you know. I had to hide out."
"And now?"
"Well, if I had legal ruling, I wouldn't have to hide."
"Think you know everything you need to know to enter this adult world?"
"No man stops learning," parried James. "I think I know enough to start."
"James, no matter what you say, there is a very important but intangiblething called 'judgment'. You have part of it, but not by far enough.You've been studying the laws about ages and rights, James, but you'vemissed a couple of them because you've been looking for evidencefavorable to your own argument. First, to become a duly elected member ofthe House of Representatives, a man must be at least twenty-five years ofage. To be a Senator, he must be at least thirty. To be President, onemust be at least thirty-five. Have you any idea why the framers of theConstitution of the United States placed such restrictions?"
"Well, I suppose it had to do with judgment?" replied James reluctantly.
"That--and _experience_. Experience in knowing people, in understandingthat there might be another side to any question, in realizing that youmust not approach every problem from your own purely personal point ofview nor expect it to be solved to your own private satisfaction or toyour benefit. Now, let's step off a distance and take a good look atJames Quincy Holden and see where he lacks the necessary ingredients."
"Yes, tell me," said James, sourly.
"Oh, I intend to. Let's take the statistics first. You're four-feeteleven-inches tall, you weigh one-hundred and three pounds, and you're afew weeks over fourteen. I suppose you know that you've still got onemore spurt of growth, sometimes known as the post-puberty-growth. You'llprobably put on another foot in the next couple of years, spread out abit across the shoulders, and that fuzz on your face will become acollection of bristles. I suppose you think that any man in this room canhandle you simply because we're all larger than you are? Possibly true,and one of the reasons why we can't give you a ticket and let youproclaim yourself an adult. You can't carry the weight. But this isn'tall. Your muscles and your bones aren't yet in equilibrium. I could finda man of age thirty who weighed one-oh-three and stood four-eleven. Hecould pick you up and spin you like a top on his forefinger just becausehis bones match his muscles nicely, and his nervous system and brain havehad experience in driving the body he's living in."
"Could be, but what has all this to do with me? It does not affect thefact that I've been getting along in life."
"You get along. It isn't enough to 'get along.' You've got to havejudgment. You claim judgment, but still you realize that you can't handleyour own machine. You can't even come to an equitable choice in selectingsome agency to handle your machine. You can't decide upon a good outlet.You believe that proclaiming your legal competence will provide you withsome mysterious protection against the wolves and thieves and ruthlessmen with political ambition--that this ruling will permit you to keep itto yourself until you decide that it is time to release it. You stillwant to hide. You want to use it until you are so far above and beyondthe rest of the world that they can't catch up, once you give it toeverybody. You now object to my plans and programs, still not knowingwhether I intend to use it for good or for evil--and juvenile that youare, it must be good or evil and cannot be an in-between shade of gray.Men are heroes or villains to _you_; but _I_ must say with somereluctance that the biggest crooks that ever held public office stillpassed laws that were beneficial to their people. There is the area inwhich you lack judgment, James. There and in your blindness."
"Blindness?"
"Blindness," repeated Judge Carter. "As Mark Twain once said, 'When I wasseventeen, I was ashamed at the ignorance of my father, but by the time Iwas twenty-one I was amazed to discover how much the old man had learnedin four short years!' Confound it, James, you don't yet realize thatthere are a lot of things in life that you can't even know about untilyou've lived through them. You're blind here, even though your life hasbeen a solid case of encounter with unexpected experiences, one after theother as you grew. Oh, you're smart enough to know that you've got to topthe next hill as soon as you've climbed this one, but you're not smartenough to realize that the next hill merely hides the one beyond, andthat there are still higher hills beyond that stretching to the end ofthe road for you--and that when you've finally reached the end of yourown road there will be more distant hills to climb for the folks thatfollow you.
"You've a fine education, and it's helped you tremendously. But you'veloused up your own life and the life of Martha Bagley. You two are a pairof outcasts, and you'll be outcasts until about ten years from now whenyour body will have caught up with your mind so that you can join yourcontemporaries without being regarded as a pair of intellectual freaks."
"And what should I have done?" demanded James Holden angrily.
"That's just it, again. You do not now realize that there isn't anythingyou could have done, nor is there anything you can do now. That's why I'mtaking over and I'm going to do it for you."
"Yes?"
"Yes!" snapped Judge Carter. "We'll let them have their courses in batontwirling and social grace and civic improvement and etiquette--and at thesame time we'll give them history and mathematics and spelling andgraduate them from 'high' school at the age of twelve or fourteen,introduce an intermediary school for languages and customs of othercountries and in universal law and international affairs and economics,where our bookkeepers will learn science and scientists will understandcommercial law; our lawyers will know business and our businessmen willbe taught politics. After that we'll start them in college and run themas high as they can go, and our doctors will no longer go sour from themoment they leave school at thirty-five to hang out their shingle.
"As for you, James Holden, you and Martha Bagley will attend thispreparatory school as soon as we can set it up. There will be no more ofthis argument about being as competent as an adult, because we oldsterswill still be the chiefs and you kids will be the Indians. Have I mademyself clear?"
"Yes sir. But how about Brennan?"
Judge Carter looked at the unhappy man. "You still want revenge? Won't hebe punished enough just hearing the word 'pedagogue'?"
"For the love of--"
"Don't blaspheme," snapped the judge. "You'd hang if James could bringa shred of evidence, and I'd help him if I could." He turned to JamesHolden. "Now," he asked, "will you repair your machine?"
"And if I say No?"
"Can you stand the pressure of a whole world angered because you'vedenied them their right to an education?"
"I suppose not." He looked at Brennan, at Professor White and at JackCowling. "If I've got to trust somebody," he said reluctantly, "I supposeit might as well be you."
BOOK FOUR:
THE NEW MATURITY