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Updated: May 27, 2025
I looked up ahead, rising to the ceiling again, and saw what was the matter. It was one of the dredgers from the waterfront, really a submarine scoop shovel, that they used to keep the pools and the inner channel from sanding up. I wasn't surprised it was jammed; I couldn't see how they'd gotten this far uptown with it. I got a few shots of that, and then unhooked the handphone of my radio.
I lifted the radio and spoke into it: "This is Walter Boyd, returning you now to the regular entertainment program." A second later, the thing whistled at me. As the car started down and the doors closed I lifted the handphone. It was Bish Ware again. "We're going down in the elevator to Second Level Down," I said. "I have Joe and Tom and Oscar Fujisawa and a few of the Javelin crew with me.
The girl at the desk in the mayor's outside office told me Bish had a delegation of uptown merchants, who seemed to think that reform was all right in its place but it oughtn't to be carried more than a few blocks above the waterfront. They were protesting the new sanitary regulations. Then she buzzed Bish on the handphone, and told me he'd see me in a few minutes.
When that seemed not to convey any meaning to Erskyll, he elaborated: "We have a lot of dirty-necked working slaves. Over every dozen of them is an overseer with a big whip and a stungun. Over every couple of overseers there is a guard with a submachine gun. Over them is a supervisor, who doesn't need a gun because he can grab a handphone and call for troops.
That was a possibility which always lurked in the back of his mind, and lately it had been giving him surrealistic nightmares. "Mr. Melroy!" the box on the desk in front of him said suddenly, in a feminine voice. "Mr. Melroy, Dr. Rives is here." Melroy picked up the handphone, thumbing on the switch. "Dr. Rives?" he repeated.
"I move that the motion, as amended, read, and stipulate a price of seventy-five centisols a pound." "You're crazy!" Belsher almost screamed. Seventy-five was the old price, from which he and Ravick had been reducing until they'd gotten down to forty-five. Just at that moment, my radio began making a small fuss. I unhooked the handphone and brought it to my face. "Yeah?"
If they'd knocked out the guard, they had a way out, and none of them wanted to stay in that building any longer than they had to. The First Level Down was mostly storerooms, with nobody in any of them. As we went up the stairway to the Main City Level, we could hear firing outside. Nobody inside was shooting back. I unhooked my handphone. "We're in," I said when Joe Kivelson answered.
"The psychologist who's subbing for Dr. von Heydenreich," the box told him patiently. "Oh, yes. Show him in," Melroy said. "Right away, Mr. Melroy," the box replied. Replacing the handphone, Melroy wondered, for a moment, why there had been a hint of suppressed amusement in his secretary's voice. Then the door opened and he stopped wondering. Dr. Rives wasn't a him; she was a her.
I have some guests here who have outstayed their welcome. For the record, better make it that I have squatters I want evicted. If there were a couple of blue uniforms around, maybe it might save me the price of a few cartridges." "I read you. George was mentioning that you might regret inviting that gang to camp on you." He picked up a handphone. "Calderon to Car Three," he said.
The man Hutschnecker, Prestonby remembered hearing Claire call him nodded. "That might be all right. We could cover the cases with tarpaulins." A buzzer drew one of the Illiterates to a handphone. He listened for a moment, and turned. "Hey, there's a Mrs. H. Armytage Zydanowycz down in Furs; she wants to buy one of those mutated-mink coats, and she's only got half a million bucks with her.
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