Brave New Worlds

needs of the system were therefore falling behind, and so measures were taken to accelerate the cycle for the rest of the day, but it got bogged down and speeded up and they sold too many float-valves and not nearly enough wegglers, which meant that the popli ratio was off, which made it necessary to rush cases and cases of spoiling Smash-O to stores that usually needed a case only every three or four hours. The shipments were bollixed, the transshipments were misrouted, and in the end, even the swizzleskid industries felt it.

'Don't come back till you have him!' the Ticktockman said, very quietly, very sincerely, extremely dangerously.

They used dogs. They used probes. They used cardioplate crossoffs. They used teepers. They used bribery. They used stiktytes. They used intimidation. They used torment. They used torture. They used finks. They used cops. They used search & seizure. They used fallaron. They used betterment incentive. They used fingerprints. They used the Bertillon system. They used cunning. They used guile. They used treachery. They used Raoul Mitgong, but he didn't help much. They used applied physics. They used techniques of criminology.

And what the hell: they caught him.

After all, his name was Everett C. Marm, and he wasn't much to begin with, except a man who had no sense of time.

'Repent, Harlequin!' said the Ticktockman.

'Get stuffed!' the Harlequin replied, sneering.

'You've been late a total of sixty-three years, five months, three weeks, two days, twelve hours, forty-one minutes, fifty-nine seconds, point oh three six one one one microseconds. You've used up everything you can, and more. I'm going to turn you off. '

'Scare someone else. I'd rather be dead that live in a dumb world with a bogeyman like you. '

'It's my job. '

'You're full of it. You're a tyrant. You have no right to order people around and kill them if they show up late. '

'You can't adjust. You can't fit in. '

'Unstrap me, and I'll fit my fist into your mouth. '

'You're a nonconformist. '

'That didn't used to be a felony. '

'It is now. Live in the world around you. '

'I hate it. It's a terrible world. '

'Not everyone thinks so. Most people enjoy order. '

'I don't, and most of the people I know don't. '

'That's not true. How do you think we caught you?'

'I'm not interested. '

'A girl named Pretty Alice told us who you were. '

'That's a lie. '

'It's true. You unnerve her. She wants to belong; she wants to conform; I'm going to turn you off. '

'Then do it already, and stop arguing with me. '

'I'm not going to turn you off. '

'You're an idiot!'

'Repent, Harlequin!' said the Ticktockman.

'Get stuffed. '

So they sent him to Coventry. And in Coventry they worked him over. It was just like what they did to Winston Smith in Nineteen Eighty-Four, which was a book none of them knew about, but the techniques are really quite ancient, and so they did it to Everett C. Marm; and one day, quite a long time later, the Harlequin appeared on the communications web, appearing elfin and dimpled and bright-eyed, and not at all brainwashed, and he said he had been wrong, that it was a good, a very good thing indeed, to belong, to be right on time hip-ho and away we go, and everyone stared up at him on the public screens that covered an entire city block, and they said to themselves, well, you see, he was just a nut after all, and if that's the way the system is run, then let's do it that way, because it doesn't pay to fight city hall, or in this case, the Ticktockman. So Everett C. Marm was destroyed, which was a loss, because of what Thoreau said earlier, but you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, and in every revolution a few die who shouldn't, but they have to, because that's the way it happens, and if you make only a little change, then it seems to be worthwhile. Or, to make the point lucidly:

'Uh, excuse me, sir, I, uh, don't know how to uh, to uh, tell you this, but you were three minutes late. The schedule is a little, uh, bit off. '

He grinned sheepishly.

'That's ridiculous!' murmured the Ticktockman behind his mask. 'Check your watch.' And then he went into his office, going mrmee, mrmee, mrmee, mrmee.

Is this Your Day To Join The Revolution? by GENEVIEVE VALENTINE

Genevieve Valentine's first novel, Mechanique: a Tale of the Circus Tresaulti, is forthcoming from Prime Books in 2011. Her short fiction has appeared in the anthology Running with the Pack and in the magazines Strange Horizons, Futurismic, Clarkesworld, Journal of Mythic Arts, Fantasy Magazine, Escape Pod, and more. Her work can also be found in my anthologies Federations, The Way of the Wizard, The Living Dead 2, and in my online magazine Lightspeed. In addition to writing fiction, Valentine is a columnist for Fantasy Magazine. She is a finalist for the 2010 World Fantasy Award.

The Tupolev ANT-20, completed in 1934, was one of the largest fixed-winged aircrafts ever built. It featured remarkable engineering features that outshone any other airplane of the 1930s. Big and fast, it was loaded to the gills with wonders: an in-flight film projector, its own printing equipment, a darkroom, and most importantly, the radio broadcasting unit known as the 'Voice from the Sky. ' It was no ordinary airplane. The ANT-20 was the jewel of Stalin's propaganda machine.

Propaganda doesn't have to be evil. But it exists to convince people — and those who use it are often willing to skew the truth or obscure it entirely in order to create an influential product. In the past, propaganda was an important part of the war efforts of many countries, from Nazi Germany to the United States. But in the future, who knows how propaganda might be used?

Our next tale is the story of a new kind of propaganda, filled with a message so large it has changed the living fabric of a nation. But is the message true?

In this grim new world, there's no way to know. And even if it's not, who's brave enough to ask?

* * *

When Liz left her building, Disease Control workers were standing on the corners, handing out pills and little paper cups of Coke.

'Do you need one?' the old lady asked, holding up a handful of paper masks stamped with ads for Lavender Fields Sterile-Milled Soap. Liz pulled out the one she kept in her bag, and the lady smiled.

The TV in her subway car showed 'What You Can Do on a Date. ' the young man and woman went to the fair twice — once where he screwed everything up, and again where he helped her into the Ferris Wheel and handed her a paper mask before he put on his own.

The movie closed with swelling music and a reminder in cursive: ARE YOU DUE FOR A DATE? CHECK WITH YOUR DOCTOR.

Liz worked the reception desk on the sixth floor of the Department of Information Affairs.

'That Greg's a lucky man,' said Mr. Randall, the District Manager, when he came in every morning. 'Too bad I didn't get matched with you first!'

Liz chuckled, because a District Manager's jokes were always funny.