Joe wasn’t feeling up to military amenities after his framed-up near demise of the day before. He growled, “I’d think you’d be wishing I occupied Captain Rákóczi’s place, rather than offering me sympathy.”
The Hungarian’s eyebrows went up, and uninvited he took the chair next to the bed. “But why?”
“You were the man’s second.”
Kossuth was expansive. “When asked to act, I could hardly refuse a brother officer. Besides, my superiors suggested that I take the part. As you probably have ascertained, major, there is considerable doubt the desirability of you remaining in Budapest.”
Joe was astonished. “You mean to sit there and deliberately admit the duel was a planned attempt to eliminate me?”
The colonel coolly looked about the room. “Why not, major? There is no one here to witness our conversation.”
“And you admit that your precious Party, the ruling organ of this Proletarian Paradise of yours, actually orders what amounts of assassination?”
Kossuth examined his finger nails with studied nonchalance. “Why not admit it? The party will do literally anything to maintain itself in its position, major. Certainly, the death of a junior officer of the West-world means nothing to them.”
“But aren’t you a Party member yourself?”
“Of course. One must be, if one is to operate as freely as circumstance allows in this best of all possible worlds, this paradise of ours.”
Joe sank back on his pillow. He couldn’t get used to the idea of this man, whom he had always thought of as the arch-stereotype Sov-world officer, speaking in this manner.
Kossuth crossed his legs comfortably. “See, here, major, you are all but naive in your understanding of our society. Let me, ah, brief you, on the history of this part of the world, and the organization which governs it. Have you studied Marx and Engels?”
“No,” Joe said. “I’ve read a few short extracts, and a few criticisms, or criticisms of criticisms of short extracts. That sort of thing.”
Kossuth nodded seriously. “That’s all practically anybody does any more, even in the Sov-world where we give lip service to them. The point I was about to make is that the supposed founders of our society had nothing even remotely approaching this in mind when they did their research. It evidently never occurred to either that the first attempts to achieve the—” the Hungarian’s voice went dry—“glorious revolution, would take place in such ultra-backward countries as Russia and China. The revolution of which they wrote presupposedly a highly industrialized, technical economy. Neither Russia nor, later China had this. The, ah, excesses that occurred in both countries, in the mid-Twentieth Century, were the result of efforts to rectify this. You follow me? The Party, in power as a result of the confusion following in one case the First World War, and in the second case, the Second World War, tried to lift the nations into the industrial world by the bootstraps.”
The colonel cleared his throat. “Let us say that some elements resisted the sacrifices the Party demanded—the peasants, for instance.”
Joe said, dryly himself, “If I am correctly informed on Sov-world history, you do not exaggerate.”
“Exactly. Let us admit it. Stalin, in particular, but others too, both before and following him, were ruthless in their determination to achieve industrialization and raise the Sov-world to the level of the most advanced countries.”
Joe said, “This isn’t exactly news to me, colonel.”
“Of course not. Bear with me, I was but making background. To accomplish these things, the Party had to, and did, become a strong, ruthless, even merciless organization, with all power safely—from its viewpoint, of course—in its hands. And, in spite of all handicaps and setbacks, eventually succeeded in the task it had set itself. That is the achieving of an industrialized nation.”
The Hungarian pursed his lips. “But then comes the rub. Have you ever heard, Major Mauser, of a ruling class, caste, clique, call it what you will, which stepped down from power freely and willingly, handing over the reins of government to some other element?”
Joe vaguely remembered hearing similar words from some other source in the not too distant past, but by now he was fully taken up by the astonishing Sov officer. He shook his head, encouraging the other to continue.
Kossuth nodded. “They tell me that in ancient Greece and Rome, tyrants or dictators would assume full powers for a period long enough to meet some emergency, and would then relinquish such power. I do not know. I would think it doubtful. But whether or not such was done in ancient Greece, it has been a rare practice indeed, since.
“A ruling caste, like a socioeconomic system itself, when taken as a whole, instinctively perpetuates its life, as though a living organism. It cannot understand, will not admit, that it is ever time to die.”
The Hungarian waggled a finger at Joe. “At first, when there was insufficient even of the basics such as food, clothing and shelter, Party members soon learned to take care of their own, explaining this deviation from the original Party austerity, by various means. Nepotism reared its head, as always, almost from the very beginning. Party members wished their children to become Party members and saw to it that they secured the best of education, and the best of jobs. And … how do you Americans put it … the practice of you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, became the rule. Soon we had a self-perpetuating hierarchy, jealous of its position, and jealous of the attempts of outsiders to break into the sanctified organization. Marx and Engels wrote that following the revolution the State would wither away.” The colonel laughed acidly. “Instead, in the Sov-world it continually strengthened itself. A New Class, as the Yugoslavian Milovan Djilas called it, had been born.”
The Hungarian seemed to switch subjects slightly. “And a new development manifested itself. At first, Russia alone was of the Sov-world but as she became increasingly powerful, she exported her revolution, taking over in such advanced countries as,
