STABILITY (Part 1 of 3)

STABILITY (Part 1 of 3)

Philip K. Dick- The Short Happy Life of the Brown Oxford and Other Stories

ROBERT BENTON slowly spread his wings, flapped them several times and sailed majestically off the roof and into the darkness.

He was swallowed up by the night at once. Beneath him, hundreds of tiny dots of light betokened other roofs, from which other persons flew. A violet hue swam close to him, then vanished into the black. But Benton was in a different sort of mood, and the idea of night races

did not appeal to him. The violet hue came close again and waved invitingly. Benton declined, swept upward into the higher air.

After a while he leveled off and allowed himself to coast on air currents that came up from the city beneath, the City of Lightness. A wonderful, exhilarating feeling swept through him. He pounded his huge, white wings together, flung himself in frantic joy into the small clouds that drifted past, dived at the invisible floor of the immense black bowl in which he flew, and at last descended toward the lights of the city, his leisure time approaching an end. Somewhere far down a light more bright than the others winked at him: the Control Office. Aiming his body like an arrow, his white wings folded about him, he headed toward it.

Down he went, straight and perfect. Barely a hundred feet from the light he threw his wings out, caught the firm air about him, and came gently to rest on a level roof.

Benton began to walk until a guide light came to life and he found his way to the entrance

door by its beam. The door slid back at the pressure of his fingertips and he stepped past it. At

once he began to descend, shooting downward at increasing speed. The small elevator suddenly

stopped and he strode out into the Controller's Main Office.

"Hello," the Controller said, "take off your wings and sit down."

Benton did so, folding them neatly and hanging them from one of a row of small hooks

along the wall. He selected the best chair in sight and headed toward it.

"Ah," the Controller smiled, "you value comfort."

"Well," Benton answered, "I don't want it to go to waste."

The Controller looked past his visitor and through the transparent plastic walls. Beyond

were the largest single rooms in the City of Lightness. They extended as far as his eyes could see, and farther. Each was --

"What did you want to see me about?" Benton interrupted. The Controller coughed and

rattled some metal paper-sheets.

"As you know," he began, "Stability is the watchword. Civilization has been climbing for

centuries, especially since the twenty-fifth century. It is a law of nature, however, that civilization

must either go forward or fall backward; it cannot stand still."

"I know that," Benton said, puzzled. "I also know the multiplication table. Are you going

to recite that, too?"

The Controller ignored him.

"We have, however, broken that law. One hundred years ago --"

One hundred years ago! It hardly seemed as far back as that when Eric Freidenburg of the

States of Free Germany stood up in the International Council Chamber and announced to the

assembled delegates that mankind had at last reached its peak. Further progress forward was

impossible. In the last few years, only two major inventions has been filed. After that, they had all watched the big graphs and charts, seen the lines going down and down, according to their

squares, until they dipped into nothing. The great well of human ingenuity had run dry, and then

Eric had stood up and said the thing everyone knew, but was afraid to say. Naturally, since it had

been made known in a formal fashion, the Council would have to begin work on the problem.

There were three ideas of solution. One of them seemed more humane than the other two.

This solution was eventually adopted. It was -- Stabilization!

There was great trouble at first when the people learned about it, and mass riots took place

in many leading cities. The stock market crashed, and the economy of many countries went out of control. Food prices rose, and there was mass starvation. War broke out. . . for the first time in

three hundred years! But Stabilization had begun. Dissenters were destroyed, radicals were carted off. It was hard and cruel but seemed to be the only answer. At last the world settled down to a rigid state, a controlled state in which there could be no change, either backward or forward.

Each year every inhabitant took a difficult, week-long examination to test whether or not

he was backsliding. All youths were given fifteen years of intensive education. Those who could

not keep up with the others simply disappeared. Inventions were inspected by Control Offices to

make certain that they could not upset Stability. If it seemed that they might --

"And that is why we cannot allow your invention to be put into use," the Controller

explained to Benton. "I am sorry."

He watched Benton, saw him start, the blood drain from his face, his hands tremble.

"Come now," he said kindly, "don't take it so hard; there are other things to do. After all,

you are not in danger of the Cart!"

But Benton only stared. At last he said,

"But you don't understand: I have no invention. I don't know what you're talking about."

"No invention!" the Controller exclaimed. "But I was here the day you entered it yourself!

I saw you sign the statement of ownership! You handed me the model!"

He stared at Benton. Then he pressed a stud on his desk and said into a small circle of

light, "Send me up the information on number 34500-D, please."

A moment passed, and then a tube appeared in the circle of light. The Controller lifted the

cylindrical object out and passed it to Benton.

"You'll find your signed statement there," he said, "and it has your fingerprints in the print

squares. Only you could have made them."

Numbly, Benton opened the tube and took out the papers inside. He studied them a few

moments, and then slowly put them back and handed the tube to the Controller.

"Yes," he said, "that's my writing, and those are certainly my prints. But I don't

understand, I never invented a thing in my life, and I've never been here before! What is this

invention?"

"What is it!" the Controller echoed, amazed. "Don't you know?"

Benton shook his head. "No, I do not," he said slowly.

"Well, if you want to find out about it, you'll have to go down to the Offices. All I can tell

you is that the plans you sent us have been denied rights by the Control Board. I'm only a

spokesman. You'll have to take it up with them."

Benton got up and walked to the door. As with the other, this one sprang open to his touch

and he went on through into the Control Offices. As the door closed behind him the Controller

called angrily, "I don't know what you're up to, but you know the penalty for upsetting Stability!"

"I'm afraid Stability is already upset," Benton answered and went on.

The Offices were gigantic. He stared down from the catwalk on which he stood, for below

him a thousand men and women worked at whizzing, efficient machines. Into the machines they

were feeding reams of cards. Many of the people worked at desks, typing out sheets of

information, filling charts, putting cards away, decoding messages. On the walls stupendous

graphs were constantly being changed. The very air was alive with the vitalness of the work

being conducted, the hum of the machines, the tap-tap of the typewriters, and the mumble of

voices all merged together in a quiet, contented sound. And this vast machine, which cost

countless dollars a day to keep running so smoothly, had a word: Stability!

Here, the thing that kept their world together lived. This room, these hard working people,

the ruthless man who sorted cards into the pile marked "for extermination" were all functioning

together like a great symphony orchestra. One person off key, one person out of time, and the

entire structure would tremble. But no one faltered. No one stopped and failed at his task. Benton walked down a flight of steps to the desk of the information clerk.

"Give me the entire information on an invention entered by Robert Benton, 34500-D," he

said. The clerk nodded and left the desk. In a few minutes he returned with a metal box.

"This contains the plans and a small working model of the invention," he stated. He put

the box on the desk and opened it. Benton stared at the contents. A small piece of intricate

machinery sat squatly in the center. Underneath was a thick pile of metal sheets with diagrams on them. "Can I take this?" Benton asked.

"If you are the owner," the clerk replied. Benton showed his identification card, the clerk

studied it and compared it with the data on the invention... (continued to STABILITY Part 2)