Anyone too young to have heard the announcement that night certainly has read about it in school. But I must summarize it to show how it affected me and my odd life. This so-called "Council for Survival" claimed to be a secret society of "just men" dedicated to correcting all the myriad wrongs of Earth and of all the many planets and places where mankind lives. To this they pledged their lives.

But first they planned to dedicate quite a few lives of other people. They said that they had made lists of all the real movers and shakers everywhere, all over the globe and off it-separate lists for each territorial state, plus a grand list of world leaders. These were their targets.

The Council claimed credit for the initial killings and promised to kill more-and more-and more-until their demands were met.

After listing the world leaders the voice that reached us started reciting the British Canadian list. From their expressions and thoughtful nods I saw that my hosts and hostess agreed with most of the choices. The deputy to the Prime Minister was on the list but not the Prime Minister herself-to my surprise and perhaps more so to hers. How would you feel if you had spent your whole life in politics, scrambled all the way to the top, then some smart yabber comes along and says you aren't even important enough to kill? A bit like being covered up by a cat!

The voice promised that there would be no more killings for ten

days. If conditions had not then been corrected, one in ten of the remaining names would be selected by lot for death. The doomed would not be named; they simply would be killed. Ten days later another one in ten. And so on, until Utopia was achieved by the survivors.

The voice explained that the Council was not a government and that it would not replace any government; it was simply the guardian of morals, the public conscience of the powerful. Those in power who survived would remain in power-but they would survive only by doing justice. They were warned not to attempt to resign.

"This is the Voice of Survival. Heaven on Earth is at hand!" It shut off.

There was a long pause after this tape ran out before a live communicator appeared on the terminal's screen. Janet broke the silence with: "Yes, but-"

"Yes but what?" Ian asked.

"There's no question but what that list names most of the really powerful people in the country. Suppose you're on that hit list and are so scared silly that you are willing to do anything not to risk being killed. What do you do? What is justice?"

("What is truth?" asked Pontius Pilate, and washed his hands. I had no answers, so I kept quiet.)

"My dear, it is simple," Georges answered.

"Oh, fiddle! How?"

"They have made it simple. Every owner or boss or tyrant is assumed to know what ought to be done; that's his job. If he does what he should, all is well. If he fails, his attention is invited to his error

by Dr. Guillotine."

"Georges, do be serious!"

"Dear one, I have never been more serious. If the horse can't jump the hurdle, shoot the horse. Keep on doing this and eventually you will find a horse that can clear the jump-if you don't run out of horses. This is the sort of plausible pseudo-logic that most people bring to political affairs. It causes one to wonder if mankind is capable of being well governed by any system of government."

"Government is a dirty business," Ian growled.

"True. But assassination is still dirtier."

This political discussion might still be going on if the terminal had not lighted up again-I have noticed that political discussions are never finished; they simply get chopped off by something outside. A live, real-time communicator filled the screen. "The tape you have just heard," she announced, "was delivered by hand to this station. The PM's office has already repudiated this tape and has ordered all stations that have not yet broadcast it to refrain from doing so under penalties of the Public Defense Act. That the precensorship claimed by this order is unconstitutional is self-evident. The Voice of Winnipeg will continue to keep you advised of all developments. We urge you to keep calm and stay indoors unless you are needed to preserve essential public services."

Then came replays of news tapes heard earlier so Janet cut the sound and put news streamers on the screen. I said, "Ian, assuming that I am to stay here until things quiet down in the Imperium-"

"That's not an assumption; that's a fact."

"Yes, sir. Then it becomes urgent for me to call my employer. May I use your terminal? My credit card, of course."

"Not your card. I'll place the call and we'll charge it here."

I felt somewhat vexed. "Ian, I do appreciate the lavish hospitality that you-that all of you-are showing me. But, if you are going to insist on paying even those charges that a guest should pay herself, then you should register me as your concubine and publish your responsibility for my debts."

"Reasonable. What salary do you expect?"

"Wait!" Georges demanded. "I pay better. He's a stingy Scot."

"Don't listen to either of them," Janet advised me. "Georges might pay more but he would expect posing and one of your eggs all for one salary. Now I've always wanted a harem slave. Luv, you will make a perfect odalisque without so much as a jewel in your navel. But do you do back rubs? How's your singing? Now we come to the key question: How do you feel about females? You can whisper in my ear."

I said, "Maybe I had better go out and come back in and start all over again. I just want to make a phone call. Ian, may I use my credit card to place a call to my boss? It's MasterCard, triple A credit."

"Issued where?"

"The Imperial Bank of Saint Louis."

"From what the dog did in the night I deduce that you did not hear an earlier announcement. Or do you want your credit card canceled?"

"Canceled?"

"Is that an echo? BritCanBanCredNet announced that credit cards issued in the Imperium and in Québec were void for the duration of the emergency. So just stick it in the slot and learn the wonders of the computer age and the smell of burning plastic."

"Oh."

"Speak up. I thought you said, 'Oh.'"

"I did. Ian, may I eat humble pie? Then may I call my boss on your credit?"

"Certainly you may... if you clear it with Janet. She runs the household."

"Janet?"

"You haven't answered my question, dear. Just whisper it into my ear."

So I whispered into her ear. Her eyes got wide. "Let's place your call first." I gave her the call code and she did it for me, using the terminal in her room.

The streamers stopped and a procedural sign flashed on: SECURITY INTERDICT-NO CIRCUITS TO CHICAGO IMPERIUM

It flashed for ten seconds, then cut out; I let out a very sincere damn and heard Ian's voice behind me. "Naughty, naughty. Nice little girls and ladies don't talk that way."

"I'm neither one. And I'm frustrated!"

"I knew you would be; I heard the announcement earlier. But I also knew that you would have to try it before you would believe it."

"Yes, I would have insisted on trying. Ian, I'm not only frustrated; I'm stranded. I've got endless credit through the Imperial Bank of Saint Louis and can't touch it. I have a couple of dollars Ennzedd and some change. I have fifty crowns Imperial. And a suspended credit card. What was that about a concubinage contract? You can hire me cheap; it's become a buyer's market."

"Depends. Circumstances alter cases and now I might not want to go higher than room and board. What was it you whispered to Janet? Might affect things."

Janet answered, "She whispered to me, 'Honi soit qui mal y pense,' "-I hadn't-"a sentiment I commend to you, my good man. Marjorie, you aren't any worse off than you were an hour ago. You still can't go home until things quiet down... and when they do, the border will be open, and so will be the comm circuits, and your credit card will be honored again... if not here, then just across the border less than a hundred kilos away. So fold your hands and wait-"