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do to reduce it even more.
Of course he was early, almost a full hour before he was due. The robot-
receptionist kept him seated in the outer office until the exact minute of his
appointment. When he heard the door lock finally click open he almost jumped
to it. Forcing himself to go slow, he entered the office.
Prisbi, the Sentence Advisor, looked like a preserved fish peering through the
bottom of a bottle. He was dumpy fat, with dead white skin and lumpy features
that had been squeezed up like putty from the fat underneath.
His eyes were magnified pupils that peered unblinkingly through eyeglass
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
lenses almost as thick as they were wide. In a world where contact lenses were
the norm, his vision was so bad it could not be corrected by the tiny lenses.
Instead he wore the heavy-framed, anachronistic spectacles, perched insecurely
on his puffy nose.
Prisbi did not smile or say a word when Carl entered the door. He kept his
eyes fixed steadily on him as he walked the length of the room. They reminded
Carl of the video scanners he had grown to hate, and he shook the idea away.
"My name is..." he began.
"I know your name, Tritt," Prisbi rasped. The voice seemed too coarse to have
come from those soft lips. "Now sit down in that chair-there." He jerked his
pen at a hard metal chair that faced his desk.
Carl sat down and immediately blinked away from the strong lights that focused
on his face. He tried to slide the chair back, until he realized it was
fastened to the floor. He just sat then and waited for Prisbi to begin.
Prisbi finally lowered his glassy gaze and picked up a file of papers from his
desk. He riffled through them for a full minute before speaking.
"Very strange record, Tritt," he finally grated out. Can't say that I
like it at all. Don't even know why Control gave you permission to be here.
But since you are-tell me why."
It was an effort to smile but Carl did. "Well you see, I was awarded a three
year reduction in sentence. This is the first I ever heard of sentence
reduction. Control sent me here, said you would give me more information."
"A complete waste of time," Prisbi said, throwing the papers down onto the
desk. "You aren't eligible for sentence reduction until after you've finished
your first year of sentence. You have almost ten months to go. Come back then
and I'll explain. You can leave."
Carl didn't move. His hands were clenched tight in his lap as he fought for
control. He squinted against the light, looking at Prisbi's unresponsive face.
"But you see I have already had sentence reduction. Perhaps that's why
Control told me to come-"
"Don't try and teach me the law," Prisbi growled coldly. "I'm here to teach it
to you. All right I'll explain. Though it's of absolutely no value now. When
you finish your first year of sentence-a real year of work at your assigned
job-you are eligible for reduction. You may apply then for other work that
carries a time premium. Dangerous jobs such as satellite repair, that take two
days off your sentence for every day served. There are even certain positions
in atomics that allow three days per day worked, though these are rare. In
this way the sentenced man helps himself, learns social consciousness, and
benefits society at the same time. Of course this doesn't apply to you yet."
"Why not?" Carl was standing now, hammering on the table with his still tender
hands. "Why do I have to finish a year at that stupid, made-work job?
It's completely artificial, designed to torture, not to accomplish anything.
The amount of work I do every night could be done in three seconds by a robot
when the truck returned. Do you call that teaching social consciousness?
Humiliating, boring work that-"
"Sit down Tritt," Prisbi shouted in a high, cracked voice. Don't you realize
where you are? Or who I am? I tell you what to do. You don't say anything to
me outside of yes, sir or no, sir. I say you must finish your primary year of
work, then return here. That is an order."
"I say you're wrong," Carl shouted. "I'll go over your head-see your
superiors-you just can't decide my life away like that!" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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