Free The Fracas Factor by Mack Reynolds Page A

two men looked at her.
    She said, “I’ve heard of them several times. An organization that wants to make basic changes.”
    He looked over at the younger man and wound it up. “So that’s how we got into the current rut, Max. We’ve become a nation of cloddies.”
    Max, looking very unhappy, got up and went over to the autobar for another beer. “What another one?” he said.
    “No. I’ve got to keep a clear head.”
    Max came back, still disgruntled. He said, “Well, maybe most of us are in a rut, but what can you do? With, like you said, all this here automation, there just aren’t no jobs.”
    Joe explained to him that work connected with production and distribution of necessities wasn’t the only kinq. There was education and the sciences, such things as the space program, ecology and the environment, and the arts. How much of it Max assimilated, Joe didn’t know.
    The identity screen on the door buzzed. He looked over and it was Nadine, as expected. Joe got up and hurried over.
    Nadine smiled brightly as she entered, “Hello, Max,” she said. “Hello darling.”
    Max shot to his feet. “Hi, Doctor Haer,” he said. “Gosh, you look all shiny.”
    “Thanks, Max,” she said. She looked at Joe in amusement from the side of her eyes. “I feel all shiny.”
    “So do I,” Joe said, “but I didn’t know it showed. How about a drink, darling?”
    “I’ll have a Cooler,” she said.
    Max excused himself and went on into his own room, probably thinking that they wanted to be alone. He knew that they were engaged, but thus far Joe hadn’t told him the wedding had been put off indefinitely. Max would have welcomed the news. He didn’t like the idea of giving up his shared apartment with his friend.
    Joe brought her the drink and one for himself and sat on the couch next to her.
    He shook his head in despair and said, “I’ve just been talking to Max about the organization. Frank Hodgson is of the opinion that we’re going to have to start recruiting Lowers. They number some ninety percent of the population. It’s hard for them to identify with even a Middle, not to speak of an Upper. Max was born a Low-Lower and he’s now a Middle-Lower, so he’s right on their level.”
    “Frank is undoubtedly right,” Nadine said. “How did Max respond?”
    “I’m not really sure, but I got the feeling that he was shocked to find that I was speaking against the government.”
    “Zen!” she said. “Do you mean to tell me that after all this time, after our trip to Budapest, after your expedition down into Mexico, Max didn’t even know about our organization and what it stands for?”
    “Evidently not. He finds the words and the concepts a little hard. After about the third sentence that he can’t understand, he turns off listening.”
    She stared at him, frustration in her face.
    “Max is above average as Low-Lowers go. But he probably had no more school than the minimum to teach him how to read and write a little, and how to add and subtract. I don’t know. Possibly he can even divide—at least short division. As a kid he undoubtedly cut school as often as possible to watch the fracases on telly. And from what he’s said about his home life, his parents couldn’t have cared less. I doubt if he’s ever read a book in his life.”
    She took a sip of her Cooler. “And it’s your belief that he’s more than average?” she asked.
    Joe shook his head. “I’m in a better position than you are to know the workings of the Lower mind. I was born a Lower myself. I’m one of the few I’ve ever heard about that had any push, any ambition. On top of that, as a member of the Category Military, I had Lowers under me, after I’d achieved noncom and then officer rank. In short, I’ve associated with Lowers all of my adult life. I know them.”
    “Ninety percent of our population,” she said in continued despair.
    “Yes.”
    Nadine took a deep breath and finished her drink. “How did your morning’s