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Joe grunted amusement at the little man, even as he took up his jacket. "No, it doesn't," he said, "and take the chip off your shoulder. When you were back home you were continually beefing about what a rugged go you had being a Mid-Lower in the West-world. Now that you're over here the merest suggestion that all is not peaches at home and you're ready to fight."
"You don't know what it's like being born with no more common stock shares than a Mid-Lower." Joe held his peace, sipping at his drink, taking this one more slowly. He let his eyebrows rise to encourage the other to go on.
You think you could work your way up from Mid-Lower to Upper caste with that beginning, Soligen? Zen! we don't even have cobblers any more, shoes are thrown away as soon as they show wear. Sure, sure, sure. Theoretically, under People's Capitalism, you can cross categories into any field you want.
What was obviously the dossier slid from the desk chute and Holland leafed through it, as though disinterested. He said, "Joseph Mauser, born Mid-Lower, Clothing Category, Sub-division Shoes, Branch Repair." Holland looked up. "A somewhat plebian beginning, let us admit." A tic manifested itself at the side of Joe Mauser's mouth, but he said nothing.
This was some improvement in the way things were going. The older Haer was scowling at him. "Confound it, what are you doing with no more rank than captain? On the face of it, you're an old hand, a highly experienced veteran." An old pro, we call ourselves, Joe said to himself. Old pros, we call ourselves, among ourselves. Aloud, he said, "I was born a Mid-Lower, sir."
Evolution there was in society, and the terms were different, but it was still a world of class distinction and she was of the ruling class, and he the ruled, she a patrician, he a pleb. His voice went very even, very flat, almost as though he was speaking to a foe. "When we first met, Nadine, I told you that I had been born a Mid-Lower.
"That's the trouble with you Middles and Uppers, you don't know how it is to be a Lower and " Joe snapped suddenly, "I was born a Mid-Lower myself, Max. Don't give me that nonsense." Max gaped at him, utterly unbelieving. Joe's irritation fell away. He held out his glass. "Get us a couple of more drinks, Max, and I'll tell you a story."
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