Coordinator. He cannot show them the agreement for three reasons: first, because he has given his word, in writing, not to; second, because we won't give him access to any segment of the
media; and third, because he doesn't dare let the people know the gist of our agreement. And if you want
a fourth reason, we're on sound legal ground. Nothing in the agreement prevents us from this course of action, and as we are a nongovernmental monopoly, the government cannot legally object to our editorial discretion.
“I would personally suspect that Cobart will try to get news from neighboring systems piped in, but no matter where the news originates, even if it comes directly from the Council chambers on Deluros VIII, it must reach the people through our affiliated media. And this we will firmly refuse to allow. Are there any questions? No? Then the meeting is concluded. My office will issue a set of precise directives to be channeled throughout the organization by the end of the day. As for you,” he added, pointing to the video head, “clear out of your office within a week, and pick up a year's severance pay.” He said it so mildly that anyone who didn't know him would have sworn he was joking; but Jorg Bomin never joked about ASOC.
Within three days the Cobart Administration began to sense what was happening to it. Cobart himself decided to challenge ASOC by requesting an hour of video time for a speech of vital importance to the system. His request was neither accepted nor refused, but merely ignored. All reporters from all media were shortly withdrawn from their duties at his mansion, and the weekly news summary was edited to exclude any mention of Cobart.
For seventy-eight days Cobart fought futilely against the media boycott. Then, in desperation, he set up a governmental department to publish its own newstapes and newspapers. ASOC countered through its distributional channels. They couldn't legally forbid their outlets to handle the Administration tapes and paper; but they pointed out that their ships, which delivered literally thousands of other tapes and papers each day, were in a sad state of repair, and it was possible that some deliveries might be late.... The retailers balanced the profits from selling two government publications against the loss of every other publication they handled, and reached the only financially sane decision. Cobart was denied outlets for his tapes and papers.
The Administration's next step was, through private channels, to take out advertisements in the media proclaiming support of the government. ASOC neither accepted nor refused the ads, but simply returned the payments with no explanation.
A minor attack was launched on Aldebaran X, ASOC's headquarters. ASOC appealed to the Oligarchy for assistance without ever naming the enemy, and Cobart withdrew his forces before the Navy arrived on the scene.
Finally Cobart tried to nationalize ASOC. Bomin immediately went to the Oligarchic Council, showed them the agreement, argued his case passionately and forcefully, and got the Council to rule that Cobart's action was illegal.
Soon numerous polls began appearing in the media, polls expressing voter choices for the next election. They were widely publicized, with one exception: Cobart was not listed as a candidate for reelection, and his name, where written in, invalidated the sample ballot. Within a year the Administration was reeling; within two it was crumbling; and by election day it was totally dead. Cobart did indeed run for reelection, but even though his name appeared at the top of the ballot, as befitted the incumbent, he drew only four percent of the vote. His party, which had previously exercised a hairbreadth control of the system's legislature, retained less than a fifth of its seats. Only the briefest mention of Gile Cobart could be found in the history books, and he died a defeated, broken, and
forgotten man at the age of sixty-three.
Of course the next Coordinator, who until three years before had been the head of ASOC's video division, signed no agreements, mended the system's political fences with the Oligarchy, had Jorg Bomin assassinated within three months, nationalized the media, and went on to enjoy a reign undreamed of by Gile Cobart even during the halcyon days of his Administration. 13: THE ARTISTS
...In a way, the artists can be considered the revolutionaries of the middle Oligarchic period. Literature had just begun to reflect the fact that Man was dominant in the galaxy, and the classics of the previous few centuries had shown him overcoming, in various ways, the many threats posed to his primacy. Now it was the artists who began to buck the government line by finding beauty in alien forms and outrage in alien living conditions, and by showing tolerance of alien ways. They were, in a very real sense, the conscience of Man—and a very lonely conscience at that, distrusted by their own kind and frequently ignored or misunderstood by the very beings they wished to aid. Certainly the foremost writer of the period was Fillard Niis (5427-5510 G.E.), whose immortal cry of outraged conscience,
THORRIN: As everyone knows, the book concerns the despicable treatment that the various alien races suffered at our hands during our periods of galactic expansion. But not many people know exactly what it was that triggered the writing of the book. Would you care to tell us? NIIS: Certainly. I had just put the finishing touches on
resort colonies. Once there, I checked in at the fanciest hotel I could find and spent the next few days
just soaking up sunlight and alcohol. One night, after I had been there a week or so, I decided to take a walk around the city. I was never much for conducted tours, so I just set out on my own. I never had much sense of direction, and I was soon totally lost. I wandered into the alien quarter of the city and suddenly, within sight of the towering peak of my hotel, I found myself surrounded by almost unimaginable squalor and poverty. The living conditions were absolutely shocking. There were corpses littering the street, and garbage was piled up in front of all the dwellings. The water was so foul I could smell it from two hundred meters away. To my untrained eye, I felt that many of the Polluxans were in dire need of medical attention.
When I finally got back to the hotel I found our ambassador-in-residence and complained to her of the
