Astounding British Edition, Vol. 9, No. 7 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

14 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION not because I’ve failed to point it out to them. Of course, there are the Indepen- dent-Conservative grafters; a lot of them are beginning to hear jail doors opening for them, and they’re scared. But I think routine bodyguarding ought to protect Pelton from them, or from any isolated fanatics.” “And there is also the matter of Pel- ton’s daughter, and his son,” Cardon said. “We know, and Graves and Joyner know, and I assume that Slade Gardner knows, that they can both read and write as well as any Literate in the Fraternities. Sup- pose that got out between now and the election?” “And that could not only hurt Pelton, but it would expose the work we’ve been doing in the schools,” Lancedale added. “And even inside the Fraternities, that would raise the devil. Joyner and Graves don’t begin to realize how far we’ve gone with that. They could kick up a simply hideous row about it!” “And if Pelton found out that his kids are Literates—Woooo!”’ . Cardon grimaced. “Or what we’ve been doing to him. I hope I’m not around when that happens. I’m beginning to like the can- tankerous old bugger.” © “I was afraid of that,” Lancedale said. “Well, don’t let it interfere with what you have to do. Remember, Frank, the Plan has to come first, always.” He walked with O’Reilly to the street door, talking about tomorrow’s election: after shaking hands with the saloonkeeper, he crossed the sidewalk and stepped onto the beltway, moving across the strips until he came to the twenty m.p.h. strip. The tall office buildings of upper Yonkers Borough marched away as he stood on the strip, appreciatively puffing at Lancedale’s cigar. The character of the street changed; the buildings grew lower, and the quiet and fashionable ground-floor shops and cafés gave place to bargain stores, their audio-advertisers whooping urgently about improbable prices and offerings, and garish, noisy, crowded bars and cafeterias blaring recorded popular music. There was quite a bit of political advertising in evidence—huge pictures of the two major senatorial candidates. He estimated that Chester Pelton’s bald head and bulldog features appeared twice for every one of Grant Hamilton’s white locks, old- fashioned spectacles and self-satisfied smirk. Then he came to the building on which he had parked his ’copter, and left the beltway, entering and riding up to the landing stage on the helical escalator. There seemed to have been some trouble; about a dozen Independent-Conservative stormtroopers, in their white robes and hoods, with the fiery-cross emblem on their breasts, were bunched together, most of them with their right hands inside their bosoms, while a similar group of Radical- Conservative stormtroopers, with their black sombreros and little black masks, stood watching them and fingering the white-handled pistols they wore in pairs on their belts. Between the two groups were four city policemen, looking acutely unhappy. The group in the Lone Ranger uniforms, he saw, were standing in front of a huge tri-dimensional animated portrait of Chester Pelton. As he watched, the pictured candidate raised a clenched fist, and Pelton’s recorded and amplified voice thundered: “Put the Literates in their place! Our servants, not our masters!” He recognized the group leader of the Radical-Socialists—the masks were too small to be more than token disguises— and beckoned to him, at the same time walking toward his ’copter. The man in black with the white-handled pistols fol- lowed him, spurs jingling. “Hello, Mr. Cardon,” he said, joining him. “Nothing to it. We got a tip they were coming to sabotage Big Brother, over there. Take out our sound recording, and put in one of their own, like they did over in Queens, last week. The town clowns got here in time to save every- body’s face, so there wasn’t any shooting. We're staying put till they go, though.” “Put the Literates in their place! Our servants, not our masters!” the huge tridianimate bellowed. Over in Queens, the Independents had managed to get at a similar tridianimate, had taken out the record, and put in one: I am a lying fraud! Vote for Grant Hamil- ton and liberty and sound government! Eomichbooks-co im