Free Red Rag Blues by Derek Robinson

to the kitchen.
    â€œOh, Christ,” Bonnie said. “Give me a drink.”
    Luis found half a bottle of Scotch. “No ice, I’m afraid. We forgot to plug in the fridge.”
    â€œThat’s classed as an Un-American Activity. Next thing, you’ll tell me you listen to
The Flight of the Bumblebee.”
    â€œShouldn’t I?”
    â€œRimsky-Korsakov, old sport. Russian.”
    â€œHe’s dead.”
    â€œDead means nothing. Nobody mentions Rimsky-Korsakov on Voice of America, unless they want to get canned.”
    â€œIs that the same as fired?” Luis stretched out on a settee. “I’ve been fired, several times. I don’t think Voice of America circulated in Venezuela.”
    â€œIt’s a radio station. In Europe. Beamed at the Iron Curtain. Paid for with US tax dollars.”
    â€œAh, I see. Propaganda.”
    â€œNo. Well, yes, some of it. The point is McCarthy and his sidekicks have got every government employee wetting himself in case someone tells McCarthy the guy prefers Prokofiev to Cole Porter, or he saw
The Battleship Potemkin
when he was in college in 1934, or he reads
War and Peace
in bed.” Bonnie ran out of breath.
    â€œTolstoy is vastly over-rated,” Luis said. “I would seriously question the judgment of anyone who wastes much time on
War and Peace”
    â€œThe hell with Tolstoy. This isn’t about Tolstoy.”
    â€œPotemkin
is different. I enjoyed the film enormously. The sequence of the baby-carriage bouncing down the steps is high comedy. Just thinking of it makes me hoot.”
    â€œEnjoy your thoughts, friend. I know guys who’ve been kicked out of their jobs for less. And believe me, nobody’s brave enough to screen
Potemkin
anywhere in the US”
    â€œAll governments are neurotic,” Luis said. He raised a foot to admire his new loafers. “I knew a British civil servant whose career was blighted when his wife said cricket was silly. Which it is. Of course, baseball is even sillier.”
    â€œEver seen a game?”
    â€œHeavens, no.”
    â€œThen you got no right to condemn it.”
    â€œGoodness! What an intolerant nation you are.” He smirked at Julie, who had come out of the kitchen to get a Scotch. “I think I’m doing rather well,” he said.
    â€œYou quit thinking in ’46,” she said, and went away.
    â€œForget baseball,” Bonnie said. “Take government of the people, by the people, for the people. Lincoln said it must never pass away. Well, buster, it’s gone, and Voice of America’s just one line on the tombstone.”
    â€œFor doing what, exactly?”
    â€œWho cares? Poor bastards aren’t accused of anything, so how can they defend themselves? What McCarthy says, goes. At Voice of America, half the staff went.”
    Luis eased his shoulders. “I never listen to radio,” he said. “All gabble, gabble, gabble,”
    â€œThat’s just an example. A symptom of the disease. Any level of government, McCarthy or HUAC just gives them a nasty look, and
kazaam!
Everyone’s running in circles to prove he’s loyal.”
    â€œYeah.” Julie was leaning on the kitchen door, listening. “And the best way to do that is fire the next guy.
He’s
the traitor. Now you’ve done your duty. Country’s safe. So are you.”
    Luis shrugged. “Maybe the next guy
was
a traitor.”
    â€œWho says?” Bonnie demanded.
    â€œYeah,” Julie said. “What if a guy went to a couple of Party meetings? Never joined, just listened. What if he had a dog called Molotov?” She went away again.
    â€œI would ban all dog-owners on sight,” Luis said. “The world would be a better place without dogs.”
    â€œYou’d probably ban radio, too,” Bonnie said.
    â€œSplendid idea. And shoot broadcasters on sight.”
    â€œForget it, Bonnie,” Julie called from the