"I'm looking for a job. Maybe another Joranumite would help me."
"There are Joranumites in Dahl, too. Where are you from?"
There was no question that he recognized Raych's accent. That could not be disguised.
He said, "I was born in Millimaru, but I lived mostly in Dahl when I was growing up."
"Doing what?"
"Nothing much. Going to school some."
"And why are you a Joranumite?"
Raych let himself heat up a bit. He couldn't have lived in downtrodden, discriminated-against Dahl without having obvious reasons for being a Joranumite. He said, "Because I think there should be more representative government in the Empire, more participation by the people, and more equality among the sectors and the worlds. Doesn't anyone with brains and a heart think that?"
"And you want to see the Emperorship abolished?"
Raych paused. One could get away with a great deal in the way of subversive statements, but anything overtly anti-Emperor was stepping outside the bounds. He said, "I ain't saying that. I believe in the Emperor, but ruling a whole Empire is too much for one man."
"It isn't one man. There's a whole Imperial bureaucracy. What do you think of Hari Seldon, the First Minister?"
"Don't think nothing about him. Don't know about him."
"All you know is that people should be more represented in the affairs of government. Is that right?"
Raych allowed himself to look confused. "That's what Jo-Jo Joranum used to say. I don't know what you call it. I heard someone once call it 'democracy,' but I don't know what that means."
"Democracy is something that some worlds have tried. Some still do. I don't know that those worlds are run better than other worlds. So you're a democrat?"
"Is that what you call it?" Raych let his head sink, as if in deep thought. "I feel more at home as a Joranumite."
"Of course, as a Dahlite-"
"I just lived there awhile."
"-you're all for people's equalities and such things. The Dahlites, being an oppressed group, would naturally think in that fashion."
"I hear that Wye is pretty strong in Joranumite thinking. They're not oppressed."
"Different reason. The old Wye Mayors always wanted to be Emperors. Did you know that?"
Raych shook his head.
"Eighteen years ago," said the man, "Mayor Rashelle nearly carried through a coup in that direction. So the Wyans are rebels, not so much Joranumite as anti-Cleon."
Raych said, "I don't know nothing about that. I ain't against the Emperor."
"But you are for popular representation, aren't you? Do you think that some sort of elected assembly could run the Galactic Empire without bogging down in politics and partisan bickering? Without paralysis?"
Raych said, "Huh? I don't understand."
"Do you think a great many people could come to some decision quickly in times of emergency? Or would they just sit around and argue?"
"I don't know, but it doesn't seem right that just a few people should have all the say over all the worlds."
"Are you willing to fight for your beliefs? Or do you just like to talk about them?"
"No one asked me to do any fighting," said Raych.
"Suppose someone did. How important do you think your beliefs about democracy-or Joranumite philosophy-are?"
"I'd fight for them-if I thought it would do any good."
"There's a brave lad. So you came to Wye to fight for your beliefs."
"No," said Raych uncomfortably, "I can't say I did. I came to look for a job, sir. It ain't easy to find no jobs these days-and I ain't got no credits. A guy's gotta live."
"I agree. What's your name?"
The question shot out without warning, but Raych was ready for it. "Planchet, sir."
"First or last name?"
"Only name, as far as I know."
"You have no credits and, I gather, very little education."
"Afraid so."
"And no experience at any specialized job?"
"I ain't worked much, but I'm willing."
"All right. I'll tell you what, Planchet." He took a small white triangle out of his pocket and pressed it in such a way as to produce a printed message on it. Then he rubbed his thumb across it, freezing it. "I'll tell you where to go. You take this with you and it may get you a job."
Raych took the card and glanced at it. The signals seemed to fluoresce, but Raych could not read them. He looked at the other man warily. "What if they think I stole it?"
"It can't be stolen. It has my sign on it and now it has your name."
"What if they ask me who you are?"
"They won't. You say you want a job. There's your chance. I don't guarantee it, but there's your chance." He gave him another card. "This is where to go." Raych could read this one.
"Thank you," he mumbled.
The man made little dismissing gestures with his hand.
Raych rose and left-and wondered what he was getting into.
13
Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
Gleb Andorin watched Gambol Deen Namarti trudging up and down. Namarti was obviously unable to sit still under the driving force of the violence of his passion.
Andorin thought: He's not the brightest man in the Empire or even in the movement, not the shrewdest, certainly not the most capable of rational thought. He has to be held back constantly-but he's driven as none of the rest of us are. We would give up, let go, but he won't. Push, pull, prod, kick. Well, maybe we need someone like that. We must have someone like that or nothing will ever happen.