“When he saw government and big business closing in on everyone, he went underground. Rethrick Construction disappeared from the map. It took government quite a while to organize Maine, longer than most places. When the rest of the world had been divided up between international cartels and world-states, there was New England, still alive. Still free. And my grandfather and Rethrick Construction.

“He brought in a few men, mechanics, doctors, lawyers, little once-a-week newspapermen from the Middle West. The Company grew. Weapons appeared, weapons and knowledge. The time scoop and mirror! The Plant was built, secretly, at great cost, over a long period of time. The Plant is big. Big and deep. It goes down many more levels than you saw. He saw them, your alter ego. There’s a lot of power there. Power, and men who’ve disappeared, purged all over the world, in fact. We got them first, the best of them.

“Someday, Jennings, we’re going to break out. You see, conditions like this can’t go on. People can’t live this way, tossed back and forth by political and economic powers. Masses of people shoved this way and that according to the needs of this government or that cartel. There’s going to be resistance, someday. A strong, desperate resistance. Not by big people, powerful people, but by little people. Bus drivers. Grocers. Vidscreen operators. Waiters. And that’s where the Company comes in.

“We’re going to provide them with the help they’ll need, the tools, weapons, the knowledge. We’re going to ‘sell’ them our services. They’ll be able to hire us. And they’ll need someone they can hire. They’ll have a lot lined up against them. A lot of wealth and power.”

There was silence.

“Do you see?” Kelly said. “That’s why you mustn’t interfere. It’s Dad’s Company. It’s always been that way. That’s the way Maine people are. It’s part of the family. The Company belongs to the family. It’s ours.”

“Come in with us,” Rethrick said. “As a mechanic. I’m sorry, but that’s our limited outlook showing through. Maybe it’s narrow, but we’ve always done things this way.”

Jennings said nothing. He walked slowly across the office, his hands in his pockets. After a time he raised the blind and stared out at the street, far below.

Down below, like a tiny black bug, a Security cruiser moved along, drifting silently with the traffic that flowed up and down the street. It joined a second cruiser, already parked. Four SP men were standing by it in their green uniforms, and even as he watched some more could be seen coming from across the street. He let the blind down.

“It’s a hard decision to make,” he said.

“If you go out there they’ll get you,” Rethrick said. “They’re out there all the time. You haven’t got a chance.”

“Please—” Kelly said, looking up at him.

Suddenly Jennings smiled. “So you won’t tell me where the papers are. Where you put them.”

Kelly shook her head.

“Wait.” Jennings reached into his pocket. He brought out a small piece of paper. He unfolded it slowly, scanning it. “By any chance did you deposit it with the Dunne National Bank, about three o’clock yesterday afternoon? For safekeeping in their storage vaults?”

Kelly gasped. She grabbed her handbag, unsnapping it. Jennings put the slip of paper, the parcel receipt, back in his pocket. “So he saw even that,” he murmured. “The last of the trinkets. I wondered what it was for.”

Kelly groped frantically in her purse, her face wild. She brought out a slip of paper, waving it.

“You’re wrong! Here it is! It’s still here.” She relaxed a little. “I don’t know what you have, but this is—”

In the air above them something moved. A dark space formed, a circle. The space stirred. Kelly and Rethrick stared up, frozen.

From the dark circle a claw appeared, a metal claw, joined to a shimmering rod. The claw dropped, swinging in a wide arc. The claw swept the paper from Kelly’s fingers. It hesitated for a second. Then it drew itself up again, disappearing with the paper, into the circle of black. Then, silently, the claw and the rod and the circle blinked out. There was nothing. Nothing at all.

“Where—where did it go?” Kelly whispered. “The paper. What was that?”

Jennings patted his pocket. “It’s safe. It’s safe, right here. I wondered when he would show up. I was beginning to worry.”

Rethrick and his daughter stood, shocked into silence.

“Don’t look so unhappy,” Jennings said. He folded his arms. “The paper’s safe—and the Company’s safe. When the time comes it’ll be there, strong and very glad to help out the revolution. We’ll see to that, all of us, you, me and your daughter.”

He glanced at Kelly, his eyes twinkling. “All three of us. And maybe by that time there’ll be even more members to the family!”

The Great C

He was not told the questions until just before it was time to leave. Walter Kent drew him aside from the others. Putting his hands on Meredith’s shoulders, he looked intently into his face.

“Remember that no one has ever come back. If you come back you’ll be the first. The first in fifty years.”

Tim Meredith nodded, nervous and embarrassed, but grateful for Kent’s words. After all, Kent was the Tribe Leader, an impressive old man with iron-gray hair and beard. There was a patch over his right eye, and he carried two knives at his belt, instead of the usual one. And it was said he had knowledge of letters.

“The trip itself takes not much over a day. We’re giving you a pistol. There are bullets, but no one knows how many of them are good. You have your food?”

Meredith fumbled in his pack. He brought out a metal can with a key attached. “This should be enough,” he said, turning the can over.

“And water?”

Meredith rattled his canteen.

“Good.” Kent studied the young man. Meredith was dressed in leather boots, a hide coat, and leggings. His head was protected by a rusty metal helmet. Around his neck binoculars hung from a rawhide cord. Kent touched the heavy gloves that covered Meredith’s hands. “That’s the last pair of those,” he said. “We won’t see anything like them again.”

“Shall I leave them behind?”

“We’ll hope they—and you—come back.” Kent took him by the arm and moved even farther away, so that no one would hear. The rest of the tribe, the men and women and children, stood silently together at the lip of the Shelter, watching. The Shelter was concrete, reinforced by poles that had been cut from time to time. Once, in a remote past, a network of leaves and branches had been suspended over the lip, but that had all rotted away as the wires corroded and broke. Anyhow, there was nothing in the sky these days to notice a small circle of concrete, the entrance to the vast underground chambers in which the tribe lived.

“Now,” Kent said. “The three questions.” He leaned close to Meredith. “You have a good memory?”

“Yes,” Meredith said.

“How many books have you committed to memory?”

“I’ve only had six books read to me,” Meredith murmured. “But I know them all.”

“That’s enough. All right, listen. We’ve been a whole year deciding on these questions. Unfortunately we can ask only three, so we’ve chosen carefully.” And, so saying, he whispered the questions into Meredith’s ear.

There was silence afterward. Meredith thought over the questions, turning them around in his mind. “Do you think the Great C will be able to answer them?” he said at last.

“I don’t know. They’re difficult questions.”

Meredith nodded. “They are. Let’s pray.”

Kent slapped him on the shoulder. “All right, then. You’re ready to go. If everything goes right, you’ll be back here in two days. We’ll be watching for you. Good luck, boy.”

“Thanks,” Meredith said. He walked slowly back to the others. Bill Gustavson handed him the pistol without a word, his eyes gleaming with emotion.