Time Will Run Back (12 page)

The record went on for about fifteen minutes. It ended in a rousing appeal for more work, more loyalty, more austerity, and more sacrifices.

“I have marked this Record X,” Stalenin said. “It is to be broadcast immediately on the entire Wonworld network... if I should get a stroke that incapacitates me. Here is the announcement to precede it.” He handed Peter a script. It began by declaring that His Supremacy, Comrade Stalenin, No. 1 Citizen and Leader and Dictator of Wonworld, had a most important announcement to make....

“And here,” said Stalenin, more solemnly, “is Record Z. It is to be broadcast immediately... in the event of my death. You would have to act quickly, before Bolshekov got the news.”

He put it on. It announced that his doctors had warned Stalenin that a continuation of his work would destroy his health; that he was therefore resigning as Wonworld Dictator, and that he had appointed Peter Uldanov to succeed him, under the title of Stalenin II. He urged all his supporters and every citizen of Wonworld, including every member of the Politburo, to rally round Stalenin II. He was glad to announce, he continued, that he had the loyal support of Bolshekov in this plan, and that it was, in fact, Bolshekov who had originally suggested to him that Peter Uldanov would be the ideal successor. “The next voice you hear,” concluded the record, “will be that of your new Dictator. The Dictator has abdicated; long live the Dictator!”

“Did Bolshekov really suggest that?” Peter asked, astonished.

Stalenin stared at him incredulously. “Of course not. That was put in to forestall any effort by him to unseat you.”

Peter looked at him admiringly. “You think of everything.”

Stalenin put the records back carefully in the drawer, locked it, and locked the safe. “Burn this combination into your memory,” he said to Peter. “You will be the only one to know it besides myself: 8—2—7—5...” He made Peter try it three times, first repeating the numbers to him as Peter turned the knob, then making Peter open the safe twice from memory. “Here is a duplicate key for the small safe drawer. Guard it with your life. I have left orders with Sergei that you are the first one, and the only one, to be notified in case either of these things happens to me. I think Sergei is trustworthy: I saved his mother from one of Bolshekov’s firing squads.

“And now,” he continued, “about your living quarters. The only safe place for you to live is right in this building. I have had the apartment below mine prepared for your occupancy. One room is being soundproofed, like this one, and in that you may have a piano.”

“That is wonderful of you, father—”

Stalenin cut him short. “You are never to use it for more than an hour a day. The room will be ready within a week.”

He took his pipe from his desk and began leisurely to fill it. “Tomorrow we have a hurdle to take. I am going to arrange your election to the Politburo. It may not be easy. The Politburo has to vote on it. You remember No. 7—Petrov? He is sixty nine; his health hasn’t been too good. I have persuaded him to hand in his resignation tomorrow on the promise that he can retire in grand style in the country. He is to propose you as his substitute. Of course he will vote for you. I will recommend that you be admitted only at the bottom—as No. 13. That means that everybody below Petrov would automatically be promoted one number. Counting mine, that ought to mean eight votes for you. And we can certainly count on Adams. Even Bolshekov may not think it good politics to vote against you....”

HIS election to the Politburo had a mixed effect on Peter. Though he felt guilty about it because he had done nothing to earn it, the deference now paid to him increased his confidence, even in his talks with Bolshekov. He became bolder in his questions.

“Though I have now inspected any number of factories and collective farms,” he said at their next meeting, “I am still not clear how our economic system as a whole works. For example, how do you decide—”

“Very simply, No. 13,” cut in Bolshekov. There was heavily sarcastic emphasis on the No. 13. “We decide everything on communist principles. These principles were laid down by Karl Marx. The chief one is:
From each according to his abilities; to each according to his needs.”

“Does everybody in Won world have what he needs?”

“Is that a hostile question?” asked Bolshekov sharply.

“But from what I’ve seen—”

“You’re interpreting Marx too literally. Of course everybody can’t have everything he needs unless we first collectively
produce
enough for everybody’s needs. That’s why we have to send so many Social Unreliables to concentration camps and shoot the rest—to force them to produce up to their abilities. Unless people produce up to their full ability they can’t have everything they need. But until then, of course, we try to distribute equally what there is. The great principle is that of no economic class differences. The great principle is that of equal distribution.”

“How do you get equal distribution?”

“Simple. First of all, the Commissar of Production—that’s
me
—determines how many calories people need to live on, how many yards of clothing they need, how many square feet of shelter, and how much and what kind of amusement. Then he gives orders for all that to be produced.
His
subordinates assign quotas of production to particular industries.
Their
subordinates assign quotas to particular factories.
Their
subordinates assign quotas to particular workmen. And then each industry, factory, manager and workman, down the line, is held responsible for producing its or his quota.”

“Suppose these quotas happen to be assigned unfairly?”

“Remember,
I
am in charge. That never happens.”

“But suppose your
subordinates
make mistakes? Suppose they try to be fair, but just don’t know what a particular industry, factory, or workman is capable of producing?”

“Of course we can’t
entirely
eliminate mistakes. But if a subordinate makes a serious mistake, he is sent to a concentration camp—or shot. That reduces mistakes to a minimum.”

Peter had seen this system in operation. He was still not convinced of its efficiency.

“Are you always sure,” he persisted, “that you are shooting the right man? For example, suppose one factory—not maliciously, or intentionally, but because somebody has made an honest mistake—is assigned twice as big a quota as it can possibly fulfill, and a second factory only half as much as it could easily fulfill? Even if you shoot the workers in the first factory for falling below their production quota, the Workers in the second factory will still be producing less than their best. Or, if they exceed a quota which has been fixed too low, they will be applauded when they do not deserve applause.”

“Even if you are a member of the Politburo, No. 13—in fact, precisely because you are now a responsible member of the Politburo—you will have to guard your tongue. Such things do not happen under our system.”

“My questions are purely hypothetical,” Peter hastened to say. “I’m just asking them to learn how you meet these problems—I must know how to answer subversive critics.”

There was just a touch of sarcasm in Peter’s voice. He smiled slyly. He was learning how to handle himself with Bolshekov.

“We have several ways of dealing with this problem,” said Bolshekov, less hostilely. “The quotas are usually based on the previous production record of each industry or factory or workman—”

“But that might mean, No. 2, that some factories and workmen were penalized for their own good production record in the past while other factories and workmen were rewarded for their bad past production records—”

“We are also guided by
averages
in assigning the production quotas. For example, if nail factories on the average turn out a thousand nails per man per—”

“But suppose one factory, with old machinery, turns out only 500 nails per man per—whatever period—while another factory, with new machinery, turns out 1500 nails per man in the same period? Then the average rate of the two factories is, say, 1000 nails per man. But it isn’t the individual worker’s or the individual manager’s fault in the old factory—”

“All these are questions of detail,” said Bolshekov impatiently. “My subordinates have mathematical formulae to deal with all these problems.”

Peter was not convinced, but decided to shift the subject. “Let’s assume, then, that you solve your production problem. How do you solve your distribution problem?”

“Simplicity itself. We issue ration tickets for everything we produce. People apply to the RTB—Ration Ticket Bureau—for ration books or individual coupons. And that’s that.”

“But suppose—”

“Suppose it’s suits or shoes. Each number is entitled to a new suit of clothes or a new pair of shoes every three years. He applies for and presents his ration ticket and gets outfitted.”

“But suppose a person—a number—tears or wears out his suit before the end of three years?”

“That’s his lookout. But in shoes he is entitled to one resoling a year—provided he can prove that the soles were worn out in the course of his regular work and not by abuse.”

“Why is proof necessary?”

“Why? The resoling is done for him at public expense; it’s a drain on collective resources. The shoes are merely a form of public property that he holds in trust, and—”

“What about food?”

“Food is handled the same way. In the ration books there are bread coupons, margarine coupons, potato coupons, bean coupons, and lamb or chicken coupons. In spite of Wonworld crop conditions, due to the worst drought in history, every number in Moscow still gets either lamb or chicken once a week.” There was a touch of pride in this announcement.

“What about coffee? Or cigarettes?” asked Peter.

“Coffee or cigarette coupons have to be applied for separately. Every proletarian adult is entitled to a package of cigarettes a month.”

“And if he doesn’t smoke?”

“He doesn’t apply.”

“If he doesn’t smoke cigarettes, can he get something else instead?”

“Why should he? He’s entitled to the cigarettes. If he doesn’t apply for them, Wonworld saves just that much diversion of productive resources.”

“What’s to prevent him from applying for cigarette coupons and exchanging these for, say, somebody else’s lamb coupons?”

“Only the concentration camp.” Bolshekov smiled grimly. “I’m astonished to learn that you didn’t know this. Every ration coupon has stamped upon it not only the number of the coupon itself but the number of the male or female to whom it is issued. Undetected exchanges are impossible.”

“But what would be the harm, say, in allowing one man to exchange his cigarette coupons for another’s margarine coupons?”

“All sorts of harm. One number would consume double the number of cigarettes he really needed. The other would consume twice as much margarine as he really needed. It would force us to increase production both of cigarettes and of margarine. It would create speculation in ration tickets. It would throw all our productive plans out of kilter. As it is, if X doesn’t smoke cigarettes, he doesn’t apply for ration tickets and we don’t have to make cigarettes for him. But if those tickets had an exchange value he would apply for them. We would have to make the additional cigarettes. And then he would exchange his cigarette ticket for a ticket for the coffee that Y didn’t drink. So we would have to make more coffee too and—”

“How do you decide how many cigarette coupons to print?”

“We base it on the last five years’ demand.”

“Suppose you make more cigarettes or grow more beans than are applied for?”

“That seldom happens. First of all, we usually issue just a few more ration coupons than the amount of goods we produce.”

“But then some persons must find that their ration coupons are no good!”

“True—but it’s better than having an unused surplus of something, which is sheer waste. However, the real problem is not surpluses; the real problem is always not having enough to go round. If we are to be able to give ‘to each according to his needs,’ there must be enough to go round. We can’t produce enough to go round unless each produces according to his ability.”

“What’s your system, No. 2, for insuring that each person does that?”

“First of all, he is taught from his earliest childhood that it’s his duty to do it. Every year, month, week, day—one might almost say every hour of his life—he has dinned into his ears this one message: Work!
Work!
WORK!
Production!
Production!
PRODUCTION!
He hears it in every speech. He hears it on every radio program. He reads it in every issue of the
New Truth.
He finds it in every novel and play. And he sees it on every billboard. WORK! THIS MEANS YOU! PRODUCTION DEPENDS UPON YOU! And there is a picture of Stalenin—or me—or even a picture of a pretty girl worker—with his, my or her finger pointing right at him!”

“And the net result?”

“Appallingly disappointing!” confessed Bolshekov. “No, we cannot depend upon exhortation alone. That is why we have to use threats and force. That is why we have to have enormous concentration camps, and why I have to have so many people hung, guillotined or shot. You don’t think I
like
to order people shot, do you?”

Peter was eloquently silent.

“And yet I can’t understand it,” Bolshekov went on. “I don’t know which baffles me most—the masses’ lack of mass consciousness or their lack of intelligence. With all the conditioning our people get from their earliest years, with all the exhortation, all the propaganda, you would think everybody without exception would
want
to produce to the peak of his ability. They no longer have any capitalist masters! The fruits of their labor are no longer expropriated by somebody else! They now collectively own everything! Won world and everything in it is their collective property! You would think they would want to increase this property. Everybody is now working for everybody else! And yet everybody complains about the bad quality of goods and about how little he gets! Why can’t he understand that it’s
his
shoddy work that makes goods bad, that it’s
his
lack of production that leaves so few goods to go around? Why can’t everybody understand that whether or not there is a great aggregate production to be distributed depends upon
his
contribution to that aggregate?”