“Another question. If the wirr is worth more—that must mean that an individual can work less for the same return.”

“Exactly.”

“Then there is no forty-hour week or such. How many hours would an individual have to work a week to keep alive?”

“For simply shelter, food, clothes—1 would say about two hours of work every seven days.”

“I want to move here,” Morton said firmly and I nodded agreement and froze in half-nod. An idea was glimmering at the edge of my consciousness. I muttered and chiseled at it and expanded it until I saw it large and clear and possibly workable. In a little while. But first we had to do something about the hostages. I rejoined the real world and called for attention.

“Time is passing and dawn approaching. I have enjoyed the lecture, thank you, and I now know a bit more about IM. Enough at least to ask a question. What do you do in an emergency? Say there is a flood, or a dam bursts or something. A catastrophe that threatens the group not the individual.”

The doctor stepped forward, finger raised and a sparkle of enthusiasm in his eye. “A good question, a marvelous question!” He grabbed at the shelves and pulled down a thick book. “It is here, all here. Mark Forer did consider a situation like this and made allowances for it. Here is what he wrote. . . ‘at all times passive resistance will be your only weapon, never violence. But until the perfect stateless state is established there will be those of violence who will force their violence upon you. Individual Mutualism cannot be established by the dead. Until the day of true liberation comes you will have to coexist with others. You may leave their presence but they may follow and force themselves upon you. In which case you and all of the others must look upon those of violence as they might look upon any natural catastrophe such as a volcano or a hurricane. The intelligent person does not discuss ethics with hot lava but instead flees its presence, does not preach morals to the wind but seeks shelter from it.’ “ Dr. Lum closed the book and raised a triumphant finger again. “So we are saved, saved! Mark Forer has foreseen our predicament and given us the guidance we need.”

“Indeed!” Stirner agreed enthusiastically. “I shall go at once and tell the others.” He rushed to the door and out of the house. I gaped after him. Morton spoke my thoughts before I could.

“I heard what you said—but haven’t the slightest idea of what your Mark Four was talking about.”

“Clarity!” the doctor said. “Clarity and wisdom. If we all persist in noncompliance we are in a sense killing ourselves. So we comply and withdraw.”

“I am still not sure what you are talking about,” I said.

“The electricity will be turned back on, the markets will reopen. The invaders will seize food and some farmers will work longer hours if they wish to, because that will avert the natural disaster. Others will not and will stop bringing food to the city. As the supply diminishes people will leave the city and the process will accelerate. With less call for electricity, generating plants will shut down, work-

ers will leave. In a very short time the soldiers will have the city to themselves because we will all be gone.”

“They can enslave you—make you work at gunpoint.”

“Of course, but only on a one-to-one basis. One armed man can force another to work, possibly, it is of course up to the individual. But the man with the gun is essentially doing the work himself because he must be there every moment or the work will not get done. I don’t think your General Zennor will like this.”

“You can say that again!”

“I don’t think your General…”

“No, not really say it again, I meant it as an expression of agreement. You people are too literal, too much IM I imagine. A question then, a hypothetical one.”

“Those are the best kind!”

“Yes, indeed. If I should walk into a distant city and look for work—would I be accepted?’’ “Of course. That is a basic tenet of IM.”

“What if there are no jobs going?”

“There always are—remember the value of the rising wirr. Theoretically as it gets larger and larger, the working hours will get fewer and fewer, until in the long run a few seconds’ work will suffice…”

“All right, great, thanks—let’s just stick with the application of theory for a moment. If one of these invading soldiers should walk away from the army…”

“Which is of course his right!”

“Not quite what the army thinks. If he walks away to a distant town and gets a job and meets a girl and all the usual good things happen—is this possible?”

“Not only possible, but inescapable, a foundation-of IM inherent in its acceptance.”

“Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking!” Morton shouted, jumping to his feet with elation.

“You bet your sweet chunk I’m thinking that! Leaving aside the officers and the career noncoms, this is a draftee army and a good number of them were draft evaders. If we make the opportunity available for them to walk away from it all, why then Zennor might have to give a war that nobody will come to.”

The front door opened and Morton and I dived for cover. But it was Stimer leading the triumphal return of the released captives. Morton rushed to Sharia and took her hand to see if it had been hurt during her incarceration. “That’s pretty fast work,” I said.

“I used the TV phone across the street,” Stirner said. “I purchased national access and told them what we had discovered. The electricity was turned on instantly, the first food shipped. The prisoners were released.”

“Zfinnnr miist thinlf that lip lia

tell you what we have just discovered. The way to guarantee that he loses his war—even if the Navy never gets here.”

“I am encouraged by your enthusiasm but miss your meaning.”

“I will explain—but first a drink to celebrate.” This seemed like a good idea to all concerned. We poured and drank, then Morton and I listened with some interest as the others sang a song about Individual Mutualism freeing mankind from the yoke of oppression and so forth. While the theory was“fine the lyric was as bad as all other anthems I had ever heard, though I took considerable interest in the great efforts made to rhyme Individual Mutualism. I also took the time to organize my thoughts so when they had finished, and sipped a bit more wine for dry throats, I took the floor.

“I must first tell you kind people about the uniformed mob of thugs who have invaded your fair planet. A large group like this is called an army. An army is a throwback

– to the earliest days of mankind when physical defense was needed against the rigors of existence. The combative gene was the successful gene. The primitive who defended his family group passed on this gene. This gene has caused a lot of trouble since that time, right down through the ages. It is still causing trouble as you now have cause to understand. When all of the threatening animals were killed, the gene caused mankind to turn upon itself to kill each other. With shame I admit we are the only species that kills its own kind on a very organized basis. The army is the last gasp of the combative gene. In charge are old men, and they are called officers. They do nothing except issue orders. At the bottom are the soldiers who follow these orders. In between are the noncommissioned offi-

cers who see that this is done. The interesting thing to us now is that the soldiers are all drafted and a good number of them are draft dodgers.”

It took some time to explain what these last two terms meant and there was horrified shock on all sides when understanding finally penetrated, I waited until the cries of disbelief and despair had simmered down, then signaled for silence.

“I am cheered by your reaction. Do you think your people would volunteer, without payment in wirrs, to free these young men from bondage?”