Double Star

had talked to that particular man.

When available, a photo was included. There might or might not be «below-the-line» data, i.e. information which had been researched rather than learned directly by Bonforte. It depended on the political importance of the person. In some cases the «below-the-line» part was a formal biography running to thousands of words.

Both Penny and Bonforte himself carried minicorders powered by their body heat. If Bonforte was alone he would dictate into his own when opportunity offered — in rest rooms, while riding, etc.; if Penny went along she would take it down in hers, which was disguised to look like a wrist watch. Penny could not possibly do the transcribing and microfilming; two of Jimmie Washington's girls did little else.

When Penny showed me the Farleyfile, showed me the very bulk of it — and it was bulky, even at ten thousand words or more to the spool — and then told me that this represented personal information about Mr. Bonforte's acquaintances, I scroaned (which is a scream and groan done together, with intense feeling). «God's mercy, child! I tried to tell you this job could not be done. How could anyone memorize all that?»

«Why, you can't, of course.»

«You just said that this was what he remembered about his friends and acquaintances.»

«Not quite. I said that this is what he wanted to remember. But since he can't, not possibly, this is how he does it. Don't worry; you don't have to memorize anything. I just want you to know that it is available. It is my job to see that he has at least a minute or two to study the appropriate Farleyfile before anybody gets in to see him. If the need turns up, I can protect you with the same service.»

I looked at the typical file she had projected on the desk reader. A Mr. Saunders of Pretoria, South Africa, I believe it was. He had a bulldog named Snuffles Bullyboy, several assorted uninteresting offspring, and he liked a twist of lime in his whisky and splash. «Penny, do you mean to tell me that Mr. B. pretends to remember minutiae like that? It strikes me as rather phony.»

Instead of getting angry at the slur on her idol Penny nodded soberly. «I thought so once. But you don't look at it correctly, Chief. Do you ever write down the telephone number of a friend?»

«Eh? Of course.»

«Is it dishonest? Do you apologize to your friend for caring so little about him that you can't simply remember his number?»

«Eh? All right, I give up. You've sold me.»

«These are things he would like to remember if his memory were perfect. Since it isn't, it is no more phony to do it this way than it is to use a tickler file in order not to forget a friend's birthday — that's what it is: a giant tickler file, to cover anything. But there is more to it. Did you ever meet a really important person?»

I tried to think. Penny did not mean the greats of the theatrical profession; she hardly knew they existed. «I once met President Warfield. I was a kid of ten or eleven.»

«Do you remember the details?»

«Why, certainly. He said, “How did you break that arm, son?” and I said, “Riding a bicycle, sir,” and he said, “Did the same thing myself, only it was a collarbone.”»

«Do you think he would remember it if he were still alive?»

«Why, no.»

«He might — he may have had you Farleyfiled. This Farleyfile includes boys of that age, because boys grow up and become men. The point is that top-level men like President Warfield meet many more people than they can remember. Each one of that faceless throng remembers his own meeting with the famous man and remembers it in detail. But the supremely important person in any one's life is himself — and a politician must never forget that. So it is polite and friendly and warmhearted for the politician to have a way to be able to remember about other people the sort of little things that they are likely to remember about him. It is also essential — in politics.»

I had Penny display the Farleyfile on King Willem. It was rather short, which dismayed me at first, until I concluded that it meant that Bonforte did not know the Emperor well and had met him only on a few official occasions — Bonforte's first service as Supreme Minister had been before old Emperor Frederick's death. There was no biography below the line, but just a notation, «See House of Orange .» I didn't — there simply wasn't time to plow through a few million words of Empire and pre-Empire history and, anyhow, I got fair-to-excellent marks in history when I was in school. All I wanted to know about the Emperor was what Bonforte knew about him that other people did not.

It occurred to me that the Farleyfile must include everybody in the ship since they were (a) people (b) whom Bonforte had met. I asked Penny for them. She seemed a little surprised.

Soon I was the one surprised. The Tom Paine had in her six Grand Assemblymen. Rog Clifton and Mr. Bonforte, of course — but the first item in Dak's file read: «Broadbent, Darius K., the Honorable, G. A. for League of Free Travelers, Upper Division.» It also mentioned that he held a Ph.D. in physics, had been reserve champion with the pistol in the Imperial Matches nine years earlier, and had published three volumes of verse under the nom de plume of «Acey Wheelwright.» I resolved never again to take a man at merely his face value.

There was a notation in Bonforte's sloppy handwriting: «Almost irresistible to women — and vice versa!»

Penny and Dr. Capek were also members of the great parliament. Even Jimmie Washington was a member, for a «safe» district, I realized later — he represented the Lapps, including all the reindeer and Santa Claus, no doubt. He was also ordained in the First Bible Truth Church of the Holy Spirit, which I had never heard of, but which accounted for his tight-lipped deacon look.

I especially enjoyed reading about Penny — the Honorable Miss Penelope Taliaferro Russell. She was an M.A. in government administration from Georgetown and a B.A. from Wellesley, which somehow did not surprise me. She represented districtless university women, another «safe» constituency (I learned) since they are about five to one Expansionist Party members.

On down below were her glove size, her other measurements, her preferences in colors (I could teach her something about dressing), her preference in scent (Jungle Lust, of course), and many other details, most of them innocuous enough. But there was «comment»:

«Neurotically honest — arithmetic unreliable — prides herself on her sense of humor, of which she has none — watches her diet but is gluttonous about candied cherries — little-mother-of-all-living complex — unable to resist reading the printed word in any form.»

Underneath was another of Bonforte's handwritten addenda: «Ah, Curly Top! Snooping again, I see.»

As I turned them back to her I asked Penny if she had read her own Farleyfile. She told me snippily to mind my own business! Then turned red and apologized.

Most of my time was taken up with study but I did take time to review and revise carefully the physical resemblance, checking the Semiperm shading by colorimeter, doing an extremely careful job on the wrinkles, adding two moles, and setting the whole job with electric brush. It was going to mean a skin peel before I could get my own face back but that was a small price to pay for a make-up job that could not be damaged, could not be smeared even with acetone, and was proof against such hazards as napkins. I even added the scar on the «game» leg, using a photograph Capek had kept in Bonforte's health history. If Bonforte had had wife or mistress, she would have had difficulty in telling the impostor from the real thing simply on physical appearance. It was a lot of trouble but it left my mind free to worry about the really difficult part of the impersonation.

But the all-out effort during the trip was to steep myself in what Bonforte thought and believed, in short the policies of the Expansionist Party. In a manner of speaking, he himself was the Expansionist Party, not merely its most prominent leader but its political philosopher and greatest statesman. Expansionism had hardly been more than a «Manifest Destiny» movement when the party was founded, a rabble coalition of groups who had one thing in common: the belief that the frontiers in the sky were the most important issue in the emerging future of the human race. Bonforte had given the party a rationale and an ethic, the theme that freedom and equal rights must run with the Imperial banner; he kept harping on the notion that the human race must never again make the mistakes that the white subrace had made in Africa and Asia.

But I was confused by the fact — I was awfully unsophisticated in such matters — that the early history of the Expansionist Party sounded remarkably like the present Humanity Party. I was not aware that political parties