Free The Past Through Tomorrow by Robert A. Heinlein

the car was closed. The face of a female operator at the relay station showed on the screen.
    “Get me Davidson—Senior Watch Office!”
    “Oh! It’s Mr. Gaines! The Mayor wants to talk to you, Mr. Gaines.”
    “Refer him—and get me Davidson. Move!”
    “Yes, sir!”
    “And see here—leave this circuit hooked in to Davidson’s board until I tell you personally to cut it.”
    “Right.” Her face gave way to the Watch Officer’s.
    “That you, Chief? We’re moving—progress O.K.—no change.”
    “Very well. You’ll be able to raise me on this circuit, or at Subsector Ten office. Clearing now.” Davidson’s face gave way to the relay operator.
    “Your wife is calling, Mr. Gaines. Will you take it?”
    Gaines muttered something not quite gallant, and answered, “Yes.”
    Mrs. Gaines flashed into facsimile. He burst into speech before she could open her mouth. “Darling I’m all right don’t worry I’ll be home when I get there I’ve got to go now.” It was all out in one breath, and he slapped the control that cleared the screen.
    They slammed to a breath-taking stop alongside the stair leading to the watch office of Subsector Ten, and piled out. Three big lorries were drawn up on the ramp, and three platoons of cadets were ranged in restless ranks alongside them.
    A cadet trotted up to Gaines, and saluted. “Lindsay, sir—Cadet Engineer of the Watch. The Engineer of the Watch requests that you come at once to the control room.”
    The Engineer of the Watch looked up as they came in. “Chief—Van Kleeck is calling you.”
    “Put him on.”
    When Van Kleeck appeared in the big visor, Gaines greeted him with, “Hello, Van. Where are you?”
    “Sacramento Office. Now, listen—”
    “Sacramento? That’s good! Report.”
    Van Kleeck looked disgruntled. “Report, hell! I’m not your deputy any more, Gaines. Now, you—”
    “What the hell are you talking about?”
    “Listen, and don’t interrupt me, and you’ll find out. You’re through, Gaines. I’ve been picked as Director of the Provisional Control Committee for the New Order.”
    “Van, have you gone off your rocker? What do you mean—the ‘New Order’?”
    “You’ll find out. This is it—the functionalist revolution. We’re in; you’re out. We stopped strip twenty just to give you a little taste of what we can do.”
    Concerning Function: A Treatise on the Natural Order in Society , the bible of the functionalist movement, was first published in 1930. It claimed to be a scientifically accurate theory of social relations. The author, Paul Decker, disclaimed the “outworn and futile” ideas of democracy and human equality, and substituted a system in which human beings were evaluated “functionally”—that is to say, by the role each filled in the economic sequence. The underlying thesis was that it was right and proper for a man to exercise over his fellows whatever power was inherent in his function, and that any other form of social organization was silly, visionary, and contrary to the “natural order.”
    The complete interdependence of modern economic life seems to have escaped him entirely.
    His ideas were dressed up with a glib mechanistic pseudo-psychology based on the observed orders of precedence among barnyard fowls, and on the famous Pavlov conditioned-reflex experiments on dogs. He failed to note that human beings are neither dogs, nor chickens. Old Doctor Pavlov ignored him entirely, as he had ignored so many others who had blindly and unscientifically dogmatized about the meaning of his important, but strictly limited, experiments.
    Functionalism did not take hold at once—during the ’thirties almost everyone, from truckdriver to hatcheck girl, had a scheme for setting the world right in six easy lessons; and a surprising percentage managed to get their schemes published. But it gradually spread. Functionalism was particularly popular among little people everywhere who could persuade themselves that