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Furth looked at the younger man for the first time in several minutes.  Are
you watching him? The elder
Watcher nudged his companion, causing Themus dictobox to bump unceremoniously
against his chest.
 Yes, yes, I m watching, answered Themus,  but what possible reason could
there be to watch a lunatic
picking his nose on a public street comer? Annoyance rang in his voice.
Furth swung on him, his eyes cold-steel.  You watch them, that s your job. And
don t ever forget that! And dictate it into that box strapped to your stupid
shoulders. If I ever catch you failing to notice and dictate what they re
doing, I ll have you shipped back to Central and then into the Mines. You
understand what I m saying?
Themus nodded dumbly, the attack having shocked and surprised him, so sudden
and intensive was it.
He watched the Crackpot.
His stomach felt uneasy. His voice quavered as he described in minute
detail, as he had been taught, the procedure. It made his nose itch. He
ignored it. Soon the Crackpot gave a little laugh, did a small
dance step, and skipped out of sight across the street and around the
corner.
Themus spoke into the Communicator-Attachment on his box:  Watcher, sector
seventy, here. Male, orange nightgown, red slumber-cap, coming your way. Pick
him up, sixty-nine. He s all yours. Over.
An acknowledging buzz came from the Attachment, Themus said,  Out here, and
turned the Attachment off.
Furth, who had been dictating the detailed tying of a can on the tail of a
four-legged Kyben dog by a tall, bald
Crackpot, concluded his report as the dog ran off barking wildly, muttered,
 Off,  into the dicto-box and turned once more to Themus. The younger Watcher
tightened inside.
Here it comes.
Unexpectedly, the senior Watcher s voice was quiet, almost gentle.  Come with
me, Themus, I want to talk with you.
They strode through the street of Valasah, capital of Kyba, watching the other
branch of Kyben. The native
Kyben, those who put light-tubes in their mouths and twisted their ears
in expectation of fluorescence, those who pulled their teeth with
adjusto-wrenches, those who sat and scribbled odd messages on the
sidewalks, called the armor-dressed Kyben  Stuffed-Shirts. The governing
Kyben, those with the armor and high-crested metal helmets bearing the
proud emblem of the eye-and-eagle, called their charges,  Crackpots,
They were both Kyben.
There was a vast difference.
Furth was about to delineate the difference to his new aide. The senior
Watcher s great cape swirled in a rain of black as he turned into the
Pub-crawler.
At a table near the front, Furth pulled his cape about his thighs and sat
down, motioning Themus to the other chair.
The waiter walked slowly over to them, yawning behind his hand, Furth dictated
the fact briefly. The waiter gave a high-pitched maniacal laugh. Themus felt
his blood chill. These people were all mad, absolutely mad.
 Two glasses of greth,  Furth said.
The waiter left. Furth recorded the fact. The waiter had kicked him before he
had gone behind the bar.
When the drinks arrived, Furth took a long pull from the helix-shaped glass,
slumped back, folded his hands on the table and said,  What did you learn at
Academy-Central?
The question took Themus by surprise.  Wh-what do you mean? I learned a great
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many things.
 Such as? Tell me.
 Well, there was primary snooping, both conscious and subconscious evaluation;
reportage-four full years of it-shorthand, applied dictology, history,
manners, customs, authority evaluation, mechanics, fact assemblage...
He found the subjects leaping to the front of his mind, tumbling from his
lips. He had been second in his class of twelve hundred, and it had all stuck.
Furth cut him off with a wave of his hand.  Let s take that history. Capsule
it for me.
Furth was a big man, eyes oddly set far back in hollows above deep
yellow cheeks, hair white about the temples, a lean and electric man,
the type who radiates energy even when asleep. Themus suspected this [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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