Wyoli looked baffled. "What do you mean by 'correct organization'?"

"Functional organization. How does one design an electric motor? Would you attach a bathtub to it, simply because one was available? Would a bouquet of flowers help? A heap of rocks? No, you would use just those elements necessary to its purpose and make it no larger than needed--and you would incorporate safety factors. Function controls design.

"So it is with revolution. Organization must be no larger than necessary--never recruit anyone merely because he wants to join. Nor seek to persuade for the pleasure of having another share your views. He'll share them when the times comes... or you've misjudged the moment in history. Oh, there will be an educational organization but it must be separate; agitprop is no part of basic structure.

"As to basic structure, a revolution starts as a conspiracy therefore structure is small, secret, and organized as to minimize damage by betrayal--since there always are betrayals. One solution is the cell system and so far nothing better has been invented.

"Much theosizing has gone into optimum cell size. I think that history shows that a cell of three is best--more than three can't agree on when to have dinner, much less when to strike. Manuel, you belong to a large family; do you vote on when to have dinner?"

"Bog, no! Mum decides."

"Ah." Prof took a pad from his pouch, began to sketch. "Here is a cells-of-three tree. If I were planning to take over Luna. I would start with us three. One would be opted as chairman. We wouldn't vote; choice would be obvious--or we aren't the right three. We would know the next nine people, three cells... but each cell would know only one of us."

"Looks like computer diagram--a ternary logic."

"Does it really? At the next level there are two ways of linking: This comrade, second level, knows his cell leader, his two cellmates, and on the third level he knows the three in his subcell--he may or may not know his cellmates' subcells. One method doubles security, the other doubles speed--of repair if security is penetrated. Let's say he does not know his cellmates' subcells--Manuel, how many can he betray? Don't say he won't; today they can brainwash any person, and starch and iron and use him. How many?"

"Six," I answered. "His boss, two ceilmates, three in sub-cell."

"Seven," Prof corrected, "he betrays himself, too. Which leaves seven broken links on three levels to repair. How?"

"I don't see how it can be," objected Wyoh. "You've got them so split up it falls to pieces."

"Manuel? An exercise for the student."

"Well... blokes down here have to have way to send message up three levels. Don't have to know who, just have to know where."

"Precisely!"

"But, Prof," I went on, "there's a better way to rig it."

"Really? Many revolutionary theorists have hammered this out, Manuel. I have such confidence in them that I'll offer you a wager--at, say, ten to one."

"Ought to take your money. Take same cells, arrange in open pyramid of tetrahedrons. Where vertices are in common, each bloke knows one in adjoining cell--knows how to send message to him, that's all he needs. Communications never break down because they run sideways as well as up and down. Something like a neural net. It's why you can knock a hole in a man's head, take chunk of brain out, and not damage thinking much. Excess capacity, messages shunt around. He loses what was destroyed but goes on functioning."

"Manuel," Prof said doubtfully, "could you draw a picture? It sounds good--but it's so contrary to orthodox doctrine that I need to see it."

"Well... could do better with stereo drafting machine. I'll try." (Anybody who thinks it's easy to sketch one hundred twenty-one tetrahedrons, a five-level open pyramid, clear enough to show relationships is invited to try!)

Presently I said, "Look at base sketch. Each vertex of each triangle shares self with zero, one, or two other triangles. Where shares one, that's its link, one direction or both--but one is enough for a multipli-redundant communication net. On corners, where sharing is zero, it jumps to right to next corner. Where sharing is double, choice is again right-handed.

"Now work it with people. Take fourth level, D-for-dog. This vertex is comrade Dan. No, let's go down one to show three levels of communication knocked out--level E-for-easy and pick Comrade Egbert.

"Egbert works under Donald, has cellmates Edward and Elmer, and has three under him, Frank, Fred, and Fatso... but knows how to send message to Ezra on his own level but not in his cell. He doesn't know Ezra's name, face, address, or anything--but has a way, phone number probably, to reach Ezra in emergency.

"Now watch it work. Casimir, level three, finks out and betrays Charlie and Cox in his cell, Baker above him, and Donald, Dan, and Dick in subcell--which isolates Egbert, Edward, and Elmer. and everybody under them.

"All three report it--redundancy, necessary to any communication system--but follow Egbert's yell for help. He calls Ezra. But Ezra is under Charlie and is isolated, too. No matter, Ezra relays both messages through his safety link, Edmund. By bad luck Edmund is under Cox, so he also passes it laterally, through Enwright... and that gets it past burned-out part and it goes up through Dover, Chambers, and Beeswax, to Adam, front office....ho replies down other side of pyramid, with lateral pass on E-for-easy level from Esther to Egbert and on to Ezra and Edmund. These two messages, up and down, not only get through at once but in way they get through, they define to home office exactly how much damage has been done and where. Organization not only keeps functioning but starts repairing self at once."

Wyoh was tracing out lines, convincing herself it would work--which it would, was "idiot" circuit. Let Mike study a few milliseconds, and could produce a better, safer, more foolproof hookup. And probably--certainly--ways to avoid betrayal while speeding up routings. But I'm not a computer.

Prof was staring with blank expression. "What's trouble?" I said. "It'll work; this is my pidgin."

"Manuel my b-- Excuse me: Señor O'Kelly... will you head this revolution?"

"Me? Great Bog, nyet! I'm no lost-cause martyr. Just talking about circuits."

Wyoh looked up. "Mannie," she said soberly, "you're opted. It's settled."

Did like hell settle it.

Prof said, "Manuel, don't be hasty. Here we are, three, the perfect number, with a variety of talents and experience. Beauty, age, and mature male drive--"

"I don't have any drive!"

"Please, Manuel. Let us think in the widest terms before attempting decisions. And to facilitate such, may I ask if this hostel stocks potables? I have a few florins I could put into the stream of trade."

Was most sensible word heard in an hour. "Stilichnaya vodka?"

"Sound choice." He reached for pouch.

"Tell it to bear," I said and ordered a liter, plus ice. It came down; was tomato juice from breakfast.

"Now," I said, after we toasted, "Prof, what you think of pennant race? Got money says Yankees can't do it again?"

"Manuel, what is your political philosophy?"

"With that new boy from Milwaukee I feel like investing."

"Sometimes a man doesn't have it defined but, under Socratic inquiry, knows where he stands and why."

"I'll back 'em against field, three to two."

"What? You young idiot! How much?"

"Three hundred. Hong Kong."

"Done. For example, under what circumstances may the State justly place its welfare above that of a citizen?"

"Mannie," Wyoh asked, "do you have any more foolish money? I think well of the Phillies."