The cosmic eye uc, p.1
The Cosmic Eye (UC), page 1
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THE COSMIC EYE by Mack Reynolds
When four sit down to conspire, three are police spies and the other a fool,
—Old European Proverb
Chapter One
"My dear boy," William Morris said, bending his chubby knees to adjust to the acceleration of the elevator, "I am sure I have no need to warn you, ah… well, to not express any of your father's less popular opinions this afternoon." He cleared his throat apologetically. "That is, of course…" He let the sentence dribble away.
Rex laughed reassuringly. "Great Scott, Uncle Bill, stop worrying about me. Taos isn't as wild and wooly as you seem to think. We're really quite civilized out there. And Dad doesn't exactly go about making anti-Technate speeches from soapboxes, for that matter."
"Well," his uncle said. "I should hope not" The older man cast his eyes quickly about the elevator compartment. "I do wish you wouldn't say things like that, my boy."
"Say what? All that I said was that Dad didn't make a practice of saying things against the government"
His uncle was worried. "Yes, but flippantly. It's easy enough to get into a habit of speaking flippantly, quickly and… well, before you know it you've actually allowed your subconscious… to, well." He stopped and cleared his throat He was a roly-poly man in his sixties his hair gone completely gray but obviously in the top of vigorous, energetic health.
Rex Morris, his nephew, was pushing thirty, pushing five feet ten, pushing one sixty. But he looked as though thus far life itself hadn't pushed him very hard. He wore an easy going, all but indolent air, the rich young aristocrat to a T. He grinned at the older man now.
Uncle Bill was unhappy with him. "You know what I mean," he said severely. "Here we are. Lizzy Mihm's penthouse. Having an apartment like this gives you some idea of her prestige, my boy."
"Who is she again? I've met so many people these last few days, that I lose track.
"Well, you ought to remember Elizabeth Mihm. You met her the other night at Technician Philp's party at the Elite Room. Her husband used to be Prime Technician of the Transport Functional Sequence. Good friend of mine. Since he passed on, Lizzy has devoted a good deal of her time to entertaining. Her apartment is quite a center, quite a place for you to make contacts, my boy. She has the Supreme Technician himself to her soirees, quite often."
They left the elevator, emerged into an ultra-swank en-trada, and stood before a door. The older man pushed a button at its side and smiled knowledgeably at his nephew. "Swank, eh? An electric button. Lizzy Mihm is famous for her antiques."
Rex Morris was intrigued. "What does it do?"
"It rings a bell inside. Then Lizzy knows someone is at the door and responds."
Rex looked at his uncle blankly. "Then what?"
"Then she comes to the door to see who it is."
"But look, why not just have an identity screen on the door like everyone else? Then she can see who it is and decide whether or not she wants to open up at all."
His uncle said impatiently, "It's an antique, don't you understand? I don't imagine a half dozen people in the whole city have them."
Rex Morris muttered something to that, but the door was opening.
"Why, William" Lizzy Mihm gushed. "And your dear, sweet nephew from the wild, wild West"
Rex Morris winced.
"Do come in," she fluttered, sweeping a hefty and heavily bejeweled arm in the direction of the sounds of her party. She was a middle aged biddy, not more than five foot two and going to lard by the minute. However, she had a pleasant enough face, in the German hausfrau tradition. It came to Rex Morris that aristocrats in person seldom resembled in person the glamorous projections you saw on the Tri-Di shows.
"Of course you remember Rex," William Morris said, giving his hostess a peck on the cheek in the way of greeting.
"Why, of course, and there are some dear, dear people I want him to meet this afternoon. Including," she added archly, "a dear, dear young lady." She laid a beefy hand on Rex Morris' arm as they filed into the inner rooms.
""William," she said over her shoulder, "you know your way around. You can take care of yourself."
Uncle Bill headed for the nearest autobar.
She said, "Now Rex. I may call you Rex, of course…"
"Of course, Techna Mihm."
She giggled. "Actually, everyone calls me Elizabeth, so you may, too. But just a word before I take you around. Now everybody, everybody has a wonderful time at my affairs. Oh, wonderful. Just remember, of course, that we don't discuss religion or politics, or anything else controversial, and, of course, nothing has ever been said in my home against the government."
"Why, certainly not," Rex said.
She patted his arm. "Ummm," she said approvingly. "I remember your father when he was a young man. I see you have retained only his better qualities."
There didn't seem to be any answer to that. Lizzy Mihm swept him up to a group of ladies who were currently listening to the complaints of a breathless member of their gathering, obviously expressing strong opinions on a matter of the greatest importance.
"Butter," she was saying indignantly. "My dears, I simply don't know what to do^ about the servant problem. Real whale butter, mind you, for greasing herself and there's no breaking her of it She's one of the old family robos, one of the very early models that I've had all my life and my mother before me. So what can you do? You can't just have her reconditioned, what would everyone say? But she uses butter. Heavens knows how my grandparents could have afforded it I know I can't. Butter, my dears, three thousand erg units a pound. What I mean is"
"Servants!" one of the other ladies said, casting her eyes ceilingward.
Somewhere along the route of introductions, Rex Morris acquired a drink. He met this individual, that individual, was introduced sweepingly to this whole group, that whole group. Had a few meaningless words said to him by this one, said a few meaningless words to that one. He retained possibly one name out of ten.
Lizzy Mihm finally stopped to reorganize. She took up a glass of wine from one of the autobars and sipped it. "Too cold," she said, frowning. "Servants!" She added absently, as her eyes darted about her apartment, hostess-like. "I wonder if things were better before, when there were human servants."
Rex lifted his eyebrows. "My dear Techna Mihm."
Her eyes shot to his face, widened. "Oh, don't misunderstand. I wasn't criticizing the government The Service Functional Sequence was antiquated and due for discontinuation."
"I don't know anything about it," Rex Morris said primly.
"Of course not, neither do I."
"Who is that very attractive woman over there?" Rex said, obviously changing the subject They were dangerously close to the controversial. "The one talking to the big Security official."
"Over there with Technician Matt Edgeworth? Oh, Na-dine," Lizzy Mihm said. 'Didn't I introduce you to Techna Nadine Sims?"
"I don't think so," Rex said. "I certainly would have remembered. She's certainly the most stunning young woman present. Is she the dear, dear young lady you mentioned?"
"Well, no," Lizzy Mihm said. There was an uncomfortable element in her voice. "To tell you the truth, I understand Nadine is, well, said to be connected with the SFS."
"Oh," Rex said. "How nice."
Lizzy Mihm said hurriedly, "Now, Rex, you know your uncle is an old, old friend of mine and, of course, I knew your father too, before he huffed out there to wherever it is he…"
"Taos," Rex said, still eyeing the girl across the room. She was a slender, quiet sophisticated product, clad simply in a gray sari. There seemed to be a certain feline aura about her, a black panther in the jungle, incredibly beautiful but obviously dangerous. The big police official had gone off somewhere now. Rex wondered whether it was her connection with the Security SF that accounted for the absence of the admirers that should have been banked three or four deep in her vicinity.
"Yes, of course," his hostess was saying. "What I mean is, Rex, I have your interests very, very deeply at heart. William tells me that you've finished your studies and are seeking an appointment in a suitable functional sequence. And, well, we do want you to make the right contacts."
Rex looked down at her, amused. "You mean Techna Sims isn't to be considered a good contact?"
She tapped his arm with a hefty hand. "Now, you stop Rex Morris. I know you're joshing me. Isn't that a wonderful word? Joshing. Absolutely antique. It means you were jesting with me. I was only reminding you that you're a newcomer to the capital and it's even more necessary than usual not to be, well, considered interested in controversial matters. And Nadine might be… well, you know. But do come along, I can see you're intrigued now."
Nadine Sims gave him an overly ready smile. "I was wondering when we'd be introduced," she said. "Our celebrities come few and far between these days."
"Celebrities?" Rex Morris said.
"The son of Leonard Morris makes interesting meeting," she told him, her eyes going up and down his trim, expensively suited figure and obviously liking what they saw.
Lizzy Mihm fluttered, "Now I'll just leave you young people and check on things. I do believe I heard the doorbell." She bustled off.
"Quite an old girl," Rex said, looking for something to say.
"The capital's most successful hostess," Nadine said. "All the very best people never miss a Mihm party. I hear that you are in town
He grinned at her. "That sounds like a terrible thing to say about any thirty year old bachelor."
She frowned slightly, quizzically, and on her it looked fine. She said, "I beg your pardon?"
He did a mock leer. "Far from being in town for good, I'm wide open to any suggestions about what the capital offers in the way of bad. You see the evil reputation of Greater Washington has spread, yea even to the wilds—and it sounds wonderful."
She laughed at him. "I'll have to offer my guide services. What I meant was, you're in town permanently."
"Only if I can find an appointment that seems promising. Uncle Bill is optimistic, however." He yawned slightly, as though at the prospect of going to work.
"I think I'd enjoy another Susskratzer," she said, strolling toward the nearest autobar, as they talked. "Is your specialty the same as your father's?"
He dialed her a glass of the sparkling wine and grimaced. 'That's the difficulty. I'm incurably lazy. I haven't Specialized in anything." He handed her the chilled glass.
She raised her eyebrows over the rim of the glass even as she sipped. "You shock me. What is the Technician class coming to?"
Rex Morris shrugged and dialed himself a Sazerac.
"Too much trouble. And, besides, all it gets you is difficulty. Look at my dad, the scientist who conquered the virus diseases. But is that what he is primarily laaown for? Of course not His fame is based on his refusal to conform and…"
"Techno Morris," she said gently. "I don't believe we really know each other this well do we?"
He was immediately repentive. "Sorry."
She gave him her ready smile. "I know what you mean. And I see your position. And with your connections, what need is there to specialize? You couldn't fail to wind up on top if you tried."
Before they could develop that further, the hulking Security Technician, Matt Edgeworth, with whom she'd been talking earlier, came up and after a somewhat stiff and overly formal invitation, swept Nadine Sims away toward a room that had been cleared for dancing. She looked back over her shoulder at Rex and grimaced hopelessly, as though she would rather have remained.
Rex Morris pursed his lips in a silent appreciative whistle as he looked after her. The sari dress of the Indian women is one of the most flattering feminine garments ever designed and the figure of Nadine Sims was already such that it needed very little flattery indeed.
A voice at his elbow said in a drawn out, "V-e-r-y bad, my dear boy."
Rex turned to his uncle, "What?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all, Rex. How are you enjoying yourself?"
"Fine. Lot of nice people, Uncle Bill."
"How do you like, ah, Teclma Sims?"
"Pretty girl, all right. Beautiful would be the better word."
"That she is. Ah, well… I understand she sometimes does chores for…" he hesitated.
"For the Security FS," Rex finished for him. "So they tell me."
His uncle cleared his throat. "Want you to meet some other friends of mine, my dear boy. Technician Marrison over here is a mucky-muck in the Textile F.S. Always looking for new blood, you know, especially with the early retirement ages we have now." ' Technician Marrison, a chubby, balding, red nosed executive type, was in the midst of what he evidently considered to be a hilarious affair when Rex and his uncle came up.
"… and then we switched to Hawaiians," he related. "Four parts gin, two of orange juice, one curacao. Served in a hollowed out pineapple, you know. By this time we were all kinked. Absolutely kinked. You should've seen Jeff. Jeff was kinked. And Martha…"
"Martha?" someone interrupted. "Not Martha. Martha has a capacity like a camel. I've never seen Martha…"
"Kinked," Technician Marrison insisted happily. "And then we all took off for the Hop House, carrying these pineapples, understand. Really hilarious. Each of us had a pineapple in each hand."
"Is that where the SFS effective stopped you?" somebody else laughed.
"Did we tell him where to head in," Marrison chuckled. "Imagine, there we were, two Prime Technicians and three Technicians and this numbskull tries to pull his authority on us."
Everyone laughed.
Uncle Bill interrupted ro say, "Fred, I wanted to introduce you to my nephew. This is Rex. Rex, Fredrick Marrison is Technician of the Textile Functional Sequence for the whole eastern seaboard."
Marrison visibly puffed. He shook hands condescendingly. "Your nephew?" he said to William Morris. And then, less jovially, "Not the son of your brother, Leonard?"
Rex Morris nodded. "Leonard Morris is my father."
Marrison made a face. "Well, I admire your father's researches into the viruses, of course, everybody does, however,.I could never appreciate his…"
Lizzy Mihm had swept up. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," she twittered, "we're not arguing anything over here, are we? Rex, you come along with me. I want you to meet a dear, dear friend of mine."
In view of the fact that his uncle could probably speak his case more effectively than he, Rex Morris allowed himself to be led off, after some routine banality to the textile potentate.
In fact, his head was still turned back to the last group, when Lizzy Mihm said, "Paula Klein, here is the dear boy I mentioned I was going to introduce you to. The nice, nice boy. Rex Morris from, how do you say it, Touse?"
"Taos," Rex said. "Rhymes with house, or mouse, or… well, hello."
Paula Klein frowned at him. He got the vague feeling that in this pretty girl's life meeting someone in her own age bracket could be considered a waste of time better devoted to more important matters. She must have been in her mid-twenties, he decided, but she had the serious, sincere air of the sophomore on ideals bent. A shame, he had decided already, since her brunette looks were exactly of the type he liked best. Hair so black as to be suspect, dark eyes, a creamy complexion almost as dark as the Indians of his native Taos. Her mouth was naturally red and generous, and her teeth were the most perfect he could remember having seen.
"… her mother," Lizzy Mihm was saying, "one of my dearest friends." She patted Rex on the arm with one beefy paw, Paula with the other. "Now you two get to know each other." She added, archly, "But mind yourselves. I'm afraid Rex's father has an unfortunate reputation for discussing politics, and, of course, Paula's grandfather and his religion…" She giggled to indicate how bold she was being and swept off.
Rex Morris pulled his thinking away from Paula's physical attributes, excellent as they might be, and said, "Grandfather's religion?"
Paula Klein said expressionlessly, "I believe Lizzy rather insists on no politics or religion, no sex, no criticism of current institutions, no race of other controversial subjects, and above all…"
Rex chimed in with her and together they chanted, "No criticism of the government."
They both laughed, but then both cast their eyes quickly about their vicinity. No one seemed close enough to have evesdropped. "Drink?" Rex said. "No thanks, I don't drink."
He looked at her, his eyebrows up. "These days? What in the world do you do with your time?"
Her eyes went over him musingly. She took in his complexion, deeply tanned from the mountain skies, his figure, obviously in excellent trim. It was the second time within the hour that Rex Morris had borne the critical scrutiny of a beautiful woman.
She said, "By your appearance, you don't look as though you do too much bottle belting yourself, Techno…"
"Morris. Rex Morris."
'fAnd you're from Taos? Good Howard, I wasn't listening, I'm afraid, when Lizzy introduced us. You must be the son of…"
He chimed in with her again and together they chanted, "Leonard Morris."
Rex said, "I'm beginning to get mighty tired of being my father's son."
She had new interest in her face and in her voice. "No, you're not," she said.
"No, I suppose not, really. He's not the sort of old boy that you can refrain from loving."
Paula Klein said, her voice little more than a whisper, "The question you asked. My grandfather was one of the very last to hold out against the religious amalgamations of the Temple."
"I see," Rex said uncomfortably.
She said, "He practiced one of the old religions until the end, though they demoted him to a common engineer." She added, her voice musing, "It takes time in our society today to live such a matter down."
