A slogan had leaked across the Wall recently: “There is no God but a Practical Man; there is no Law but a Best Solution,” and it seemed to affirm that the third Ivan’s influence had continued after his passing—although the slogan itself was a dogma. And it might mean something quite non-literal to the people who spoke it. The rabble of the West were still stirred to deep emotion by a thing that began, “When in the course of human events—” and they saw nothing incongruous about Tertiary Stand-ins who quoted it in the name of the Federation’s rule.
But the unknown factor that disturbed the President most was not the present Asian political or economic situation, but rather, the state of scientific development, particularly as it applied to military matters. The forty years of non-communication had not been spent in military stasis, at least not for the West. Sixty percent of the federal budget was still being spent for defense. Powerful new weapons were still being developed, and old ones pronounced obsolete. The seventh John Smith had even conspired to have a conspiracy against himself in Argentina, with resulting civil war, so that the weapons could be tested under actual battle conditions—for the region had been overpopulated anyway. The results had been comforting—but John the Sixteenth wanted to know more about what the enemy was doing.
The Hell Wall—which was really only a globe-encircling belt of booby-trapped land and ocean, guarded from both sides—had its political advantages, of course. The mysterious doings of the enemy, real and imagined, were a constant and suspenseful threat that made it easy for the Smiths to keep the rabble in hand. But for all the present Smith knew, the threat might very well be real. He had to find out. It would also be a popular triumph he could toss to the rabble, bolstering his position with them, and thereby securing his hold on the Primary, Secondary, and Tertiary Stand-ins, who were becoming a little too presumptuous of late.
He had a plan in mind, vague, tentative, and subject to constant revision to suit events as they might begin to occur. He kept the plan’s goal to himself, knowing that the Stand-ins would call it insane, dangerous, impossible.
“John! We’re picking up their station!” a Stand-in called. “It’s a minute before time!”
He left the window and walked calmly to the couch before the televiewphone, whose screen had come alive with the kaleidoscope patterns of the interference-station which sprang to life as soon as an enemy station tried to broadcast.
“Have the fools cut that scatter-station!” he barked angrily.
A Stand-in grabbed at a microphone, but before he made the call the interference stopped—a few seconds before the appointed time. The screen revealed an empty desk and a wall behind, with a flag of the Asian League. No one was in the picture, which was slightly blurred by several relay stations, which had been set up on short notice for this one broadcast.
A wall-clock peeped the hour in a childish voice: “, Thirdday, Smithweek, also Accident-Prevention Week and Probe-Subversives Week; Happy ! Peep!”
A man walked into the picture and sat down, facing John Smith XVI. A heavyset man, clad in coveralls, and wearing a red rubber or plastic helmet-mask. The mask was the face of the first Soviet dictator, dead over a century ago. John’s scalp bristled slightly beneath his own golden headdress. He tried to relax. The room was hushed. The opposing leaders stared at each other without speaking. Historic moment!
Ivan Ivanovitch slowly lifted his hand and waved it in greeting. John Smith returned the gesture, then summoned courage to speak first.
“You have translators at hand?”
“I need none,” the red mask growled in the Western tongue. “You are unable to speak my tongue. We shall speak yours.”
The President started. How could the Red know that he did not speak the Russo-Asian dialect?
“Very well.” The President reached for a prepared text and began to read. “I requested this conference in the hope of establishing some form of contact between our peoples, through their duly constituted executive authorities. I hope that we can agree on a series of conferences, aimed eventually at a lessening of the tension between us. I do not propose that we alter our respective positions, nor to change our physical isolation from one another, except in the field of high-level diplomacy and. …”
“Why?” grunted the Asian chieftain.
John Smith XVI hesitated. The gutteral monosyllable had been toneless and disinterested. The Red was going to draw him out, apparently. Very well, he would be frank—for a time.
“The answer should be evident, Peoplesfriend. I presume that your government spends a respectable sum for armaments. My government does likewise. The eventual aim should be economy. …”
“Is this a disarmament proposal?”
The fellow was blunt. Smith cleared his throat. “Not at the present time, Peoplesfriend. I hoped that eventually we might be able to establish a mutual trust so that to some extent we could lessen the burden. …”
“Stop talking Achesonian, President. What do you want?”
The President went rigid. “Very well,” he said sarcastically, “I propose that we reduce military expenses by blowing the planet in half. The halves can circle each other as satellite twins, and we’ll have achieved perfect isolation. It would seem more economical than the present course.”
He apparently had sized-up the Peoplesfriend correctly. The man threw back his masked head and laughed uproariously.
“The Solomon solution! … ha ha! … Slice the baby in half!” the Stalin-mask chuckled.
