With a Vengeance Read online

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  Illustrated by KNOTH]

  With a Vengeance

  By J. B. WOODLEY

  _Keep this in mind in teaching apprentices: They are future journeymen--and even masters!_

  October 10, 2119 New San Francisco

  Today, at precisely 9:50 a.m., Kyle became First Imperator of Terra. Hiscoup was so fantastically direct and facile that I am almost tempted tobelieve that old cliche "the time was right."

  Well, however badly it can be expressed, I suppose the world _was_ ripefor this sort of thing. I can remember when much the same used tohappen in elections. One man would win over another by a tremendousmajority, and historians would then set about to show how "the time wasright."

  Why do I persist in tormenting myself with that phrase! Analytically, Imight say I resent this new aristocracy of politics. Specifically, Imight say I resent Kyle.

  And both are true, both are true.

  This swing, though, to absolute monarchy, complete with the installationof the Kyle Dynasty--damn him! This is something which psychologists,not historians, must explain. Has the age of the Common Man, so bravelyflaunted for over one hundred years, truly come to nothing? Would peoplereally prefer a figurehead and a symbol of undisputed authority?

  In this instance, one may again conclude that "the time was right."Contact with planets like Mars and Venus undoubtedly had its influence.I must confess that the televised audiences with the Mrit of Venus andthe Znam of Mars _did_ make Terra's President--I should say, latePresident--look a bit seedy. I daresay there is such a thing as a toocommon Common Man.

  Kyle was such, twenty years ago. His name wasn't Kyle then, although itwas something very like that. I must see if any of the old ledgers areabout! I'd like to see what the Imperator's name was when His MostImperial Majesty was an apprenticed nobody!

  * * * * *

  October 12, 2119 New San Francisco

  I found it! Buried in stacks of dust behind the old printing press thatwas once the heart of my _Beacon-Sentinel_. There were others there too.Spent a delightful morning with them, reading back through those oldaccount books.

  I wonder whatever happened to Hastings? And Drew? Best linotype men Iever had. They became pilots, or something, as I recall. Too bad, toobad. They could have had such brilliant futures, both of them. Why theyfelt they must ally themselves with the non-thinking, muscle-flexingvariety of mankind--of which our Ruler is an excellent example--I'llnever know.

  Ah, yes, Kyle! In those days he was Kilmer Jones. I don't remember himtoo well, actually, except for the day I fired him.

  I suppose he was right in changing his name. We couldn't very well havean Imperator named Kilmer the First, or Jones the First. Much toocommon, not at all in keeping.

  Gawky fellow--that Kilmer. When Bard brought me a sample of his work--Iguess I'll have to call it that--we both had a good laugh over it!Atrocious spelling! Couldn't follow the proofreader's marks. Indeed, Iwonder if the fellow could even read! The punctuation! And the grammar!

  I called the boy to the office that morning--or was it the next day? Nomatter. I called him in and told him, as kindly as possible, that Ithought there were other vocations to which he might be better suited.The irony of it! Kilmer Jones--Kyle I!

  And he stood there, I remember, with those seventeen-year-old hands thatwere all knuckles and bone and chapped skin, twisting those hands andshifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  "Please, Mr. Booth," he said, his voice cracking. "I ain't got no otherjob in mind. I wanna be a noospaper man. I ain't got no--"

  If not for that "ain't got no," I think I might have relented. But noone is going to ruin the English language as he did! Not in my offices!

  I took him to task severely for his offensive usage, outlined a correctexample of what he had attempted to say, gave him a brief lesson in thehistory of the tongue, and explained why it had been chosen as theofficial Terran speech. I think my conclusion was, "You'll be muchbetter off in a position which requires you to quote neither Milton norShakespeare nor any author save possibly those who write the comicstrips."

  "Got no training," he said softly. (I supposed it was to keep his voicefrom exhibiting its usual adolescent gymnastics.)

  I shuddered slightly, I remember. "You mean, 'I _have_ no training.'"

  "Yeah ..." softly again. "Yeah, Mr. Booth."

  "_Yes!_" I cried impatiently. "Not 'yeah,' but _yes_!"

  I searched for his severance pay on my desk, wondering who the devil hadhired him in the first place. Gave him three weeks pay, as I recall it,one more than necessary.

  Unmannerly pup! He just stood there for a minute and then finally leftwithout even a "Thank you," or "Good-by."

  And this is the man who is Kyle the First, Ruler of Terra at the age ofthirty-seven! I wonder what he is like now....

  * * * * *

  January 1, 1 New San Francisco

  There is no longer any need to wonder. Surprisingly few heads haverolled, but apparently Jonesy chooses to exhibit his power in otherways.

  Thanksgiving Day, a custom preserved in certain portions of theDirectorate of North America, is three weeks away--even though it isJanuary.

  The Year One. There used to be some childish joke about the Year One.Don't remember it just now.

  Thanksgiving harvest in January. Christmas celebration in February.Spring planting in July! To say nothing of the inconvenience this hascaused in my bookkeeping department! I suppose the man will now try tochange the weather to suit his new calendar!

  * * * * *

  January 8, 1 New San Francisco

  He can't last! He can't! A dictator is one thing. A monarch is another.But Kyle is something else!

  Naturally he had to remove certain persons from his way. And his summerpalace in the plains region of America--that's all right, that's allright! An authority of Kyle's stature is expected to removeundesirables, and to have a summer palace, and a winter palace, andanything else he wants! Of course!

  But why this? Why _this_ of all things!

  No newspapers! Just like that! _He_ waves an edict, and just like that,_no newspapers_! The _Beacon-Sentinel_ has been a great paper for thelast twenty-five years! It was nothing, and I was nothing, and togetherwe became a Voice! And now again, we are nothing!

  Oh, I see what's behind it! It's revenge, that's what it is! Because heonce couldn't become a "noospaper" man, he's taking his vengeance thisway.

  A man as petty as that shall be overthrown! Mark my words! And theclumsiness of it!

  I see what he is! I know him! He's still that pup of seventeen, playingking with the world, twisting his hands in glee over his childishtriumph.

  No subtlety! Just a direct pushing over an applecart he couldn't steer!Doesn't matter whose apples you destroy, does it, Jonesy? Just push itover--push it over!

  * * * * *

  January 16, 1 New San Francisco

  Closed the _Beacon-Sentinel_ yesterday. My savings are enough to takecare of me for a few years. After that--ah, well, I am no longer a youngman. I am glad that Elsa is not here to
see this.

  * * * * *

  February 12, 1 New San Francisco

  Received a letter this morning, requesting me to appear at the chambersof His Most Imperial Majesty, Kyle the First, on Tuesday of next week.His Most Imperial Majesty can see me between 10:15 and 10:25 on thatmorning.

  Ten minutes--rather a brief spell in which to roll another head.

  I find myself amazed, though. Is this man so truly powerful that heneeds no police to make his arrests for him? Can he really send messagesvia jetmail and be certain his enemies will not try to escape?

  I don't want to attempt flight. Life without my work is no longer life.

  * * * * *

  February 17, 1