Free Web of Everywhere by John Brunner Page A

scientist Frederick Satamori, Deputy Director of the Skelter Authority (what would he think if he knew he was face to face with a criminal?); ‘Ingrid dear, I hear you lost your cats! Does that mean thereare none left now?’ – and there he was commiserating with Dr Ingrid Castelnuovo the biologist who had just failed to rescue the domestic cat from extinction (and who was so much further along the Way of Life he was half-ashamed to admit his own adherence to the faith) …
    He had imagined these persons to be unreal, because unapproachable, heard of but never in contact with anyone he himself might have met. Yet that notion had to have been false. This dozen-odd of Aleuker’s closest friends, the winnowings of a vast acquaintanceship, these people with talents that would have been remarkable in any age, were mingling contentedly with the strangers who kept on pouring out of the unprivateered skelter – shy, plainly retiring men of advanced years who must have been through agonies of indecision before concluding that a chance to meet Chaim Aleuker made it worth taking advantage of the clues their scholarship enabled them to decipher; arrogant young student types clearly determined to prove they were a match for their elders; pretty un-bright girls, and a great many more pretty un-bright boys, who had ridden here on the shirt-tails of lovers with a higher IQ …
    Fantastic. And a lot of fun. Hans’s self-allotted hour was nearly up. He revised his deadline and decided to stay at least as long again.

INTERFACE I
    Who is my neighbor?
    The unknown inquired.
    The teacher replied with a parable
    Concerning one who was going a journey.
    Who is my neighbor?
    I am asking it again.
    Pharisees and Levites by the million
    Pass by the other side of my skelter door.
    – M USTAPHA S HARIF

Chapter 9

    Cheerfully adrift on stimulating conversation, first-class liquor and delicious food – down here in the far south the sea still bred safe fish and much of the ground could be farmed in the old-fashioned manner provided it was protected from rain – Hans gloated privately over his vision of the morrow.
    He was going to make Dany weep, actually weep, with his vivid description of the unique occasion she had cheated herself out of by ruining his precious film … not, of course, that she would have figured out the clues that led here. He would imply, in terms broad enough for her not to misconstrue, that he’d have been happy to escort her to the party, deftly link her into discussions beyond her range, help her to leave behind an impression that while that guy Dykstra’s wife might not be too much to look at she must be pretty bright behind that quiet façade … He’d had to undertake similar chores for her throughout their married life, and since he was finding these élite strangers so pleasant he was confident he could have worked the trick in unprecedentedly distinguished company. For his benefit, if not hers.
    He caught sight again of Frederick Satamori, on the farside of the patio as he orbited from one primary of conversation to the next, always welcome, and thought of the enormity of the offenses he was committing by the scientist’s standards.
    This event would certainly have to be recorded in his secret files. One day somebody would read his account of this party and laugh aloud.
    He had hoped for another chance to speak to Aleuker; he had an opening gambit ready, for the presence of many plants in tubs and pots on the broad patio hinted that the owner might follow the Way of Life. But the opportunity eluded him. Basking in adulation, the inventor seemed to be holding forth to a large group of admirers every time he passed within earshot of Hans: always a different group, but always the same subject – the privateer.
    ‘When I think of what would have happened to the world without it …!’ someone said loudly, and Hans cynically glossed: ‘What about what happened to the world in spite of it?’
    Not that he