Counter-Clock World Read Online Free Page A

piece by a crank inventor with a goofy name. He had held his chair at Section B too long to be easily snared. But still—he had to investigate this; his ethical structure, his responsibility to society, insisted on it. He sighed.
    “I hear you groaning,” Charise said brightly.
    Appleford said, “As long as he’s not from the F.N.M.” “Well—he is.” She looked—and sounded—guilty. “I think they threw him out, though. That’s why he’s here in Los Angeles and not there.”
    Rising to his feet, Douglas Appleford said stiffly, “Hello, Charise. I must leave now for work; I will not and cannot discuss this trivial matter further.” And that, as far as he was concerned, ended that.
    He hoped.
    Arriving home to his conapt at the end of his shift, Officer Joe Tinbane found his wife sitting at the breakfast table. Embarrassed, he averted his gaze until she noticed him and rapidly finished filling her cup with hot, dark coffee.
    “Shame,” Bethel said reprovingly. “You should have knocked on the kitchen door.” With haughty dignity she carefully placed the orange-juice bottle in the refrigerator, carried the now nearly full box of Happy-Oats to its concealment in the cupboard. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute. My victual momentum is now just about complete.” However, she took her time.
    “I’m tired,” he said, at last seating himself.
    Bethel placed empty bowls, a glass, a cup, and a plate before him. “Guess what the ’pape says this morning,” she said as she retired discreetly to the living room so that he, too, could disgorge. “That thug fanatic is coming here, that Raymond Roberts person. On a pilg.”
    “Hmm,” he said, enjoying the hot, liquid taste of coffee as he ruminated it up into his weary mouth.
    “The Los Angeles chief of police estimates that four
million
people will turn out to see him; he’s performing the sacrament of Divine Unification in Dodger Stadium, and of course it’ll all be on TV until we’re ready to go clear out of our minds. All day long—that’s what the ’pape says; I’m not making it up.”
    “Four million,” Tinbane echoed, thinking, professionally, how many peace officers it would take to handle crowd control when the crowd consisted of that many. Everybody on the force, including Skyway Patrol and special deputies. What a job. He groaned inwardly.
    “They use those drugs,” Bethel said, “for that unification they practice; there’s a long article on it, here. The drug’s a derivative from DNT; it’s illegal here, but when he goes to perform the sacrament they’ll let him—them all—use it that one time. Because the California law states—”
    “I know what it states,” Tinbane said. “It states that a psychedelic drug can be used in a bona fide religious ceremony.” God knew he had had this drummed into him by his superiors.
    Bethel said, “I have half a mind to go there. And participate. It’s the only time, unless we want to fly to, ugh, the F.N.M. And I frankly don’t feel much like doing
that.
”
    “You do that,” he said, happily disgorging cereal, sliced peaches and milk and sugar, in that order.
    “Want to come? It’ll be exciting. Just think: thousands of people unified into one entity. The Udi, he calls it. Which is everyone and no one. Possessing absolute knowledge because it has no single, limiting viewpoint.” She came to the kitchen door, eyes shut. “Well?”
    “No thanks,” Tinbane said, his mouth embarrassingly full. “And don’t watch me; you know how I can’t stand to have anyone around when I’m having victual momentum, even if they can’t see me. They might hear me—chewing.”
    He could feel her there; he sensed her resentment.
    “You never take me anywhere,” Bethel said presently.
    “Okay,” he agreed, “I never take you anywhere.” He added, “And if I did, it wouldn’t be there, to hear about religion.” We have enough religious nuts in Los Angeles anyhow, he thought. I wonder