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men also
gave us the Magna Charta and the Declaration of Independence.
"Now, in spite of a lunatic fringe in the Consolidated Illiterates'
Organization who want just that, Chester Pelton knows that we cannot
abolish Literacy entirely. Even with modern audio-visual recording,
need exists for some modicum of written recording, which can be
rapidly scanned and selected from--indexing, cataloguing, tabulating
data, et cetera--and for at least a few men and women who can form
and interpret the written word. Mr. Pelton, himself, is the owner of a
huge department store, employing over a thousand Illiterates; he must
at all times have the services of at least fifty Literates."
"And pays through the nose for them, too!" Pelton growled. It was
more than fifty; and Russ Latterman had been forced to get twenty
extras sent in for the sale.
"Now, since we cannot renounce Literacy entirely, without sinking to
fellahin barbarism, and here I definitely part company with Mr. Pelton,
he fears the potential power of organized Literacy. In a word, he fears a
future Literate Dictatorship."
"Future? What do you think we have now?" Pelton demanded.
"Nobody," Mongery said, as though replying to him, "is stupid enough,
today, to want to be a dictator. That ended by the middle of the
Twenty-first Century. Everybody knows what happened to Mussolini,
and Hitler, and Stalin, and all their imitators. Why, it is as much the

public fear of Big Government as the breakdown of civil power
because of the administrative handicap of a shortage of Literate
administrators that is responsible for the disgraceful lawlessness of the
past hundred years. Thus, it speaks well for the public trust in Chester
Pelton's known integrity and sincerity that so many of our people are
willing to agree to his program for socialized Literacy. They feel that
he can be trusted, and, violently as I disagree with him, I can only say
that that trust is not misplaced.
"Of course, there is also the question, so often raised by Mr. Pelton,
that under the Hamilton machine, the politics, and particularly the
enforcement of the laws, in this state, are unbelievably corrupt, but I
wonder--"
Mongery paused. "Just a moment; I see a flash bulletin being brought
in." The novice Literate came to his side and gave him a slip of paper,
at which he glanced. Then he laughed heartily.
"It seems that shortly after I began speaking, the local blue-ribbon
grand jury issued a summons for Chief Delaney to appear before them,
with all his records. Unfortunately, the summons could not be served;
Chief Delaney had just boarded a strato-rocket from Tom Dewey Field
for Buenos Aires." He cocked an eye at the audience. "I know Irish is
going to have a nice time, down there in the springtime of the Southern
Hemisphere. And, incidentally, the Argentine is one of the few major
powers which never signed the World Extradition Convention of
2087." He raised his hand to his audience. "And now, until tomorrow at
breakfast, sincerely yours for Cardon's Black Bottle, Elliot C.
Mongery."
"Well, whattaya know; that guy was plugging for you!" Ray said. "And
see how he managed to slide in that bit about corruption, right before
his stooge handed him that bulletin?"
"I guess every Literate has his price," Chester Pelton said. "I wonder
how much of my money that cost. I always wondered why Frank
Cardon sponsored Mongery. Now I know. Mongery can be had."

"Uh, beg your pardon, Mr. Pelton," a voice from the hall broke in.
He turned. Olaf Olafsson, the 'copter driver, was standing at the
entrance to the breakfast nook, a smudge of oil on his cheek and his
straw-colored hair in disorder. "How do I go about startin' this new
'copter?"
"What?" Olaf had been his driver for ten years. He would have been
less surprised had the ceiling fallen in. "You don't know how to start
it?"
"No, sir. The controls is all different from on the summer model. Every
time I try to raise it, it backs up; if I try to raise it much more, we won't
have no wall left on the landing stage."
"Well, isn't there a book?"
"There ain't no pictures in it; nothing but print. It's a Literate book,"
Olaf said in disgust, as though at something obscene. "An' there ain't
nothin' on the instrument board but letters."
"That's right," Ray agreed. "I saw the book; no pictures in it at all."
"Well, of all the quarter-witted stupidity! The confounded imbeciles at
that agency--"
Pelton started to his feet. Claire unlocked the table and slid it out of his
way. Ray, on a run, started for the lift and vanished.
"I think some confounded Literate at the Rolls-Cadipac agency did
that," he fumed. "Thought it would be a joke to send