October 31, 2025 • 24 mins
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:36):
Mind Way. Welcome to a half hour of mind Waves
short stories from the world, speculative sections, all artical re
(02:04):
This is Michael Hanson who the Mindweb story that comes
from the collection edited by Judith Merrill England Swings s
f Stories of speculative fiction. This is the run by
Chris Priest. As he left the basse Senator Robins heard
(02:25):
the alarm began its screaming warning. For most of the morning,
he'd toured the base. With the pan Asians agitating and
an election due, he couldn't afford to substantiate his anti
pacifistic claims with anything less than a well publicized tour.
Behind his car, he could see the VID crews following
their equipment into their transports. He drove at a leisurely
(02:49):
pace towards the main gate in its attendant barrage of
security checks. These days, driving was the only way he
could relax. He's scoring. The idea of the chauffeur security
was suspiciously officious. He'd half expected them to wedding through
the most cursory of examinations, but they insisted on a
complete checkover his identifications. These fact finding touris stirred up
(03:14):
the military after all. As he left the security lodge
and approached the main gates, the last of the rockets fired,
and that was something he'd investigated today. The constant total
readiness practices cost more than they were perhaps worth. He
made a mental note to get his secretary to prepare
a report. The rocket was the usual manned sort of
(03:37):
sliver of dusty metals, scarcely visible in the overcast. It
disappeared quickly, its afterglow illuminating small patch of the clouds.
Through the thick classic of his car's body, Robins could
feel the sonic throb of the rocket's huge motors. He
(04:00):
turned out of the base under the gray slip road
that led his later freeways. As his car accelerated silently
along the aluminum strip under the point of rockets, presumably
when some of the nearby base swept over her head.
They were flying low these days, the new defense pattern
had been killed by a wash of noise seemed to
make his cars shake on its plates. He closed the
(04:23):
windows and turned the air condition of full love. He
came eventually to the freeway and followed the filtery strip
onto its with it looked like a photograph Robins had
seen once of one of the old railway marshaling yards.
Tracks crossed and recrossed, merged and divided. He filtered until
he was in the medium fast lane and pushed his
(04:46):
speed up to the maximum. Aloud. He leaned forward against
the restraint of his safety webbing and raised his secretary
on the call kit. Anderson, Robin's here. His secretary's voice
came through sound being strained. Boss, get back in here
as quick as you can't, Big trouble. What is it?
What's going on? Can you tell me over the line?
(05:07):
Code E? Boss, cod E? The kit went dead. His
secretary had switched off. He made to recall him and
then stopped. Anderson never acted like that unless something was
seriously wrong. He'd worked out a private series with Anderson
in Trouble with the pan Asians at first blown up.
Code E was national scale, and that was all he
(05:30):
drove on his mind. Working hard overhead, another low flight
of silver rockets added weight to his forebodings. Five kilometers
up the freeway, Robins took another filtery strip and followed
it as it bounded into a minor side track. His
speed dropped away, compensating for the sharper bends he'd encountered.
(05:52):
He caught a glimpse of the Session's hall O blaque,
modern building, sawing into the sky over the surrounding forest.
These rised government seemed fruitless when housed in the building
as prominent as that, Or perhaps there was something more
subtle about it, something he hadn't realized. The track began
to climb a little, and the trees became thicker along
(06:14):
its side. Very soon he came to the junction, a
single track dipping down through the trees, losing itself between
wooded banks. He approached the turn carefully, waiting for the
signal to flash green. The pole barrier raised itself automatically,
and his car slipped through. He switched off the identifying beam,
(06:34):
and behind him the pole dropped back into place. He
accelerated quickly, impatient to get back to his office. Anderson's
cryptic message meant war at worst, crisis at best. Either way,
he needed to be at hand. The government's foreign policy,
in Robin's opinion, was flaxied. It listened to public opinion
(06:56):
too much and varied with the currency of popular ideals.
The Pacifists had had their way now for seven years,
allowing the Panasians do and filtrate every civilized country they'd
bordered on. The time had come to show a little strength.
Pull a few triggers, push a few buttons. They'd give
way soon enough. Shown a few strong arm tactics, Robins
(07:19):
found he'd unconsciously pushed his speed too far, and he
let it drop away a little. This was low speed strip,
not stressed for fast. Cornering ahead of him, the aluminum
track wound over the undulating countryside. About two kilometers ahead.
Had disappeared around the sharp turn at Packer's Mill, a
(07:41):
movement caught his eye. He saw a human figure for
a brief moment, disappearing behind one of the many trees.
He looked again at the spot, then saw the youth.
He was a thin followed dressed in the drab gray
coverall long hair flopping over his face behind him, standing
amongst the trees, the Senator could see many of dressed identically.
(08:02):
What were they doing in the forest. It was supposed
to be patrolled from the air, warning off any strays.
They were probably part of the game of Juvie's Robins
had heard that several had been seen in the vicinity lately.
He looked on the other side of the track, and
noted with a sudden, unaccountable twinge that there were many
on that side too. Instinctively, he slowed the car a little,
(08:23):
hesitating as he did so, several of the juvis levered
themselves away from the trees they were leaning against and
walked purposefully towards the track. Robins drove on cautiously. He
began to see more and more youth some of them
clustering in bunches near the track. As he passed one
(08:45):
of these bunches, a juvie spat deliberately at the car's
spittles playing across the wind screen. The first trace of
real alarm nudged at Robin's mind, and he looked into
his rear view screen. The track behind him was crowded
juvies walking easily along behind him. Some of the youths
were running, as if trying to pace the car. He
(09:08):
increased his speed again, a little nervously. The car surged forward,
its blunt nose thrusting. As the lineal plates increased their field,
hugging the aluminum strip on either side of the track,
the numbers grew. Most of the jewvies just watched, but
some of them the younger one's Robin's guest. Some of
them were shouting insults and waving sticks. The track before
(09:31):
him streamed away in a gray curve of dull ribbon,
disappearing around Packers. At the bends, Robins could see a
crowd of the youths looking towards his car expectantly. There
must be a hundred in that part alone, he guessed.
The little knot of alarm had grown inside him, swollen
by an unreasoned certainty that they had been waiting for him.
(09:53):
He found he was still accelerating, and glanced at his
speed meter that showed one hundred twenty kilometers per hour
and rising. Another look at the screen showed him more
juvis climbing down behind him. He looked around everywhere it
seemed he could see the drably dressed youths flowing on
to the track. His car shot silently towards the bend
(10:16):
at Packers, standing out like a promontory, the tree lined
bank unvexed down to the edge of the track, bearing
its cargo of young humanity, jeering and cheering as the
Senator plowed down towards them. He was going too fast
for the bend, he'd have to slow. He jabbed at
his reverse floe, and the speed dropped away a little.
(10:37):
The cheering rose as his momentum died and the Juvies
pressed nearer to the track. He went into the corner
too fast. He grappled with the emergency, breaking fighting against
the violent shuddering the tour through the cabin, bucking and pitching.
The plates ground against the strip, threatening to leave their guides.
As he came out of the bend, something metallic and
(10:59):
heavy cut the roof of the cabin, and the roar
of approval came from the perilously balanced crowd of Julie's.
In his screen, he saw a great iron girder roll
against the aluminum strip, and then he was round the corner,
whose car righted itself immediately, its gyrow holding its level
again I had The track was empty, straight and true.
(11:23):
It ran for a full kilometer, slipping gently down the
long incline bed Ahead, he could see the tall shape
of the session's hall standing like a beacon on the horizon.
A strange flash caught his eye, then another. Twin streaks
of flame shot upwards from near the base of the
hall and lost themselves in the cloud. Two more followed them,
(11:46):
and Robins realized what they were. The anti missile sight,
unmanned and fully automatic, was being brought against something. It
very much looked as if the Senator's worst fears were
justified immediately. It was all the more imperative that he
got back to the hall. He looked into his wear
(12:07):
view screen. Behind him, the bend was crowded with juvis.
They were making no attempt to follow him, evidently preferring
to watch his progress. He checked his speed and saw
that he had almost halted. What had happened there? Had
they been trying to kill him on the corner, It
seemed unlikely. From what little he knew of juvie habits.
(12:30):
The Senator was certain that whatever they did, they would
make sure would work, and with the biggest gang he'd
ever seen or heard of, he would expect something a
little more positive and terror tactics. He sweated at the thought.
If that was so, then they hadn't finished with him yet.
He craned forward against the restraining pull of his safety webbing.
(12:52):
At the end of the slope, he caught a movement.
Even as he watched, hundreds of juvis wormed out of
the trees, pushing and jostly when they fought for position
along the edge of the track. There was nothing orderly
about their movement. It was as if they'd been released
from the stockade all at once. They fought and shoved,
several of them stumbling under the track and over the
(13:13):
aluminum strip. With horror, Robin saw that those that fell
stayed there, making no effort to move any more, were
throwing themselves against the strip, deliberately placing their bodies in
his path. Torn with indecision, he looked desperately around. What
were they doing? Did they want to kill themselves? An
(13:36):
idea struck him, and he reached across for the call kit.
As he waited for a reply, he saw that the
Julies by the corner were walking down towards him. The leaders,
five rangy youths and ill fitting overalls were near the car,
and he could see now that they were carrying weapons.
He turned back to the call kit and held his
finger down on the button. No reply. What the hell
(14:02):
was going on? Then he remembered the girder that had
hit the roof. It must have damaged the aerial. There
was a crash, and his rear window starred into opacity.
The screen showed some of the youths throwing stones. He'd
have to move. Reluctantly, he started the car, moving again
(14:23):
down the slope towards the others. A great cheer rose
as he began to move, a taunting ovation of derision
and scorn. It died away, to be replaced by a chant,
an insidious and growing beat, a pounding, droning, throbbing drum
of voices, frightening and stimulating. The mocking hymn grew and grew,
(14:47):
and suddenly he caught the words. At last he understood
what the whole thing was about. The chant was one word,
one whose semantic roots lay far into the past, whose
meaning had grown and swollen with the years, and one
that now meant a semi religious cult of suicidal magnitude.
(15:08):
And all around the Senator Robins, the whole world shouted
the word chicken chicken. They screamed chicken, chicken, chicken' chicken,
And this was a run. The full implication struck Robins
(15:30):
as his car reached the fifty kph mark. He had
unwittingly let himself in for a run, something that only
happened to other people. He allowed his speed to build
up a little more. His mind worked frantically. What was
he going to do? Rather, what could he do? There
(15:51):
seemed little choice. Behind him was a hard knot of
Julie's running. Now he could see ahead of him the
pressing mob and over flown right onto the track, the
aluminum strip flying into their bodies like a gray arrow.
All along the track. The juvis stared at his car,
watching defiantly as he accelerated towards them. Robin's fear suddenly evaporated,
(16:17):
to be replaced by a strident wave of anger. These
damned juvis couldn't push him around. Who sided with drugs,
drunk with unwonted power, These unemployed and unemployable delinquents thought
they ruled the earth. Thought that was ironic, Robins reflected
as he encouraged more and more speed out of his car.
(16:40):
They practically did rule some parts of the country. He
shuddered as he thought of a world ruled by aging louts,
the ignorant and cowardly, the weak minded and strong bodied.
Every year's new unemployment figures added millions to their ranks.
Another flash on the horizon worried the corner of his
(17:02):
vision somewhere in another world, it seemed a war had started.
He glanced at his speed meter and saw that he
still had plenty of speed in hand. He wasn't far
from the nearest Jewvies, and he began to imagine that
he could see their faces. In fact, all he could
see was a blur of white and brown, an untidy
(17:25):
heap of humanity testing their bravery against his. He held
his speed at a study one hundred and embraced himself
nearer ever nearer. All around him, the chanting screamed and throbbed,
urging and pushing him to hold his speed. What was
(17:45):
he doing? What was there to prove? He wasn't a coward?
He knew that. Why did he have to test himself
in front of these morons? There was no bravery in
throwing a ton of plastic and steel at a mouth
than the human bodies, mangling and maiming, killing, to prove
himself he wasn't a Jewvie. He wasn't ruled by any mob.
(18:08):
He was a civilized person in a civilized community, a
respected person in a position of trust. He was a
senator and had the faith of twenty thousand voters behind him.
Trusting his dignity and discrettion, and most important, he was human.
It was abhorrent to his very nature to kill for
its own sake, to plow through a hundred bodies, destroying
(18:29):
life and making it a pleasure. He was one hundred
meters from the mound of juvies. The chanting throbbed into
his consciousness, exciting and stimulating him, beating like the jungle
drums of primitive peoples. It seemed to get faster and
faster in crescendo of hate, mounting and spiraling. As he
(18:51):
sped ever closer. He could see their faces, now pink
and white and gray, all of them staring fixedly at
his car, waiting for him to He could see their
mouths opening and closing as they chanted. They'd never break,
there were too many of them. They'd sit there until
(19:11):
he killed them all. They'd sit there, watching him, watching
as he rammed them. He made his decision, grabbed the
emergency brake and applied full reverse thrust. He slammed forward
into the webbing of straps, seeming to hang there as
the great plates fought against the momentum. No scream of brakes,
(19:32):
no squeal of rubber, A silent, steady, remorseless pull of power,
acting like a barrier of unyielding cotton wool. He felt
as if he hung there for an eternity. His reactions nill,
eyes blinded by a sudden fireball, and then he was free.
(19:52):
He slumped into a seat as the car stopped a
bare meter from the nearest Chuvi. He lulled forward, sliding
downside the strap, eyes still blind from the sun white
glare outside. A hot wind blew and a great hand
lifted his car. There was a terrible silence when he
(20:19):
came round. The first thing he saw was his watch,
still ticking and apparently undamaged. He'd been unconscious only a
few minutes. There was something wrong with his vision, as
if he were seeing everything through a maze of retinal shadow.
He moved experimentally. There was a pain in his side,
(20:40):
but nothing else seemed to be damaged. Automatically, he reached
where the webbing release and freed himself. The car, with
most of its windows smashed, was lying on its side
a long way from the track. He climbed up through
what had been the windscreen, treading cautiously in the broken
remains of the controls. Outside, there was inferno. The Sessions
(21:06):
Hall had vanished, replaced instead by a great trunk of cloud.
On all sides of the trees had been flattened and
stripped of their leaves. Many were burning their smoke, adding
to the desolate cloud of nuclear release. And all around
the bodies of the juvies lay. All had been burned,
all were now dead. Robin stood there for a long time.
(21:33):
Presently he began to cough, and blood trickled to his lips.
He turned his back on what had once been the
hall and walked erratically up the way he had come
so recently. Overhead, a low flight of yellow rockets skimmed
away from the black cloud its instants. That was the run,
(23:10):
A story written by Chris Priest. It comes from an
anthology edited by Judith Merrill titled England Swings s F.
I'm Michael Hanson. Technical operation for this program by Dan Schmidt.
Mind webs is a production of WHA Radio in Madison,
(23:31):
the service of the University of Wisconsin Extension
Mind Way. Welcome to a half hour of mind Waves
short stories from the world, speculative sections, all artical re
(02:04):
This is Michael Hanson who the Mindweb story that comes
from the collection edited by Judith Merrill England Swings s
f Stories of speculative fiction. This is the run by
Chris Priest. As he left the basse Senator Robins heard
(02:25):
the alarm began its screaming warning. For most of the morning,
he'd toured the base. With the pan Asians agitating and
an election due, he couldn't afford to substantiate his anti
pacifistic claims with anything less than a well publicized tour.
Behind his car, he could see the VID crews following
their equipment into their transports. He drove at a leisurely
(02:49):
pace towards the main gate in its attendant barrage of
security checks. These days, driving was the only way he
could relax. He's scoring. The idea of the chauffeur security
was suspiciously officious. He'd half expected them to wedding through
the most cursory of examinations, but they insisted on a
complete checkover his identifications. These fact finding touris stirred up
(03:14):
the military after all. As he left the security lodge
and approached the main gates, the last of the rockets fired,
and that was something he'd investigated today. The constant total
readiness practices cost more than they were perhaps worth. He
made a mental note to get his secretary to prepare
a report. The rocket was the usual manned sort of
(03:37):
sliver of dusty metals, scarcely visible in the overcast. It
disappeared quickly, its afterglow illuminating small patch of the clouds.
Through the thick classic of his car's body, Robins could
feel the sonic throb of the rocket's huge motors. He
(04:00):
turned out of the base under the gray slip road
that led his later freeways. As his car accelerated silently
along the aluminum strip under the point of rockets, presumably
when some of the nearby base swept over her head.
They were flying low these days, the new defense pattern
had been killed by a wash of noise seemed to
make his cars shake on its plates. He closed the
(04:23):
windows and turned the air condition of full love. He
came eventually to the freeway and followed the filtery strip
onto its with it looked like a photograph Robins had
seen once of one of the old railway marshaling yards.
Tracks crossed and recrossed, merged and divided. He filtered until
he was in the medium fast lane and pushed his
(04:46):
speed up to the maximum. Aloud. He leaned forward against
the restraint of his safety webbing and raised his secretary
on the call kit. Anderson, Robin's here. His secretary's voice
came through sound being strained. Boss, get back in here
as quick as you can't, Big trouble. What is it?
What's going on? Can you tell me over the line?
(05:07):
Code E? Boss, cod E? The kit went dead. His
secretary had switched off. He made to recall him and
then stopped. Anderson never acted like that unless something was
seriously wrong. He'd worked out a private series with Anderson
in Trouble with the pan Asians at first blown up.
Code E was national scale, and that was all he
(05:30):
drove on his mind. Working hard overhead, another low flight
of silver rockets added weight to his forebodings. Five kilometers
up the freeway, Robins took another filtery strip and followed
it as it bounded into a minor side track. His
speed dropped away, compensating for the sharper bends he'd encountered.
(05:52):
He caught a glimpse of the Session's hall O blaque,
modern building, sawing into the sky over the surrounding forest.
These rised government seemed fruitless when housed in the building
as prominent as that, Or perhaps there was something more
subtle about it, something he hadn't realized. The track began
to climb a little, and the trees became thicker along
(06:14):
its side. Very soon he came to the junction, a
single track dipping down through the trees, losing itself between
wooded banks. He approached the turn carefully, waiting for the
signal to flash green. The pole barrier raised itself automatically,
and his car slipped through. He switched off the identifying beam,
(06:34):
and behind him the pole dropped back into place. He
accelerated quickly, impatient to get back to his office. Anderson's
cryptic message meant war at worst, crisis at best. Either way,
he needed to be at hand. The government's foreign policy,
in Robin's opinion, was flaxied. It listened to public opinion
(06:56):
too much and varied with the currency of popular ideals.
The Pacifists had had their way now for seven years,
allowing the Panasians do and filtrate every civilized country they'd
bordered on. The time had come to show a little strength.
Pull a few triggers, push a few buttons. They'd give
way soon enough. Shown a few strong arm tactics, Robins
(07:19):
found he'd unconsciously pushed his speed too far, and he
let it drop away a little. This was low speed strip,
not stressed for fast. Cornering ahead of him, the aluminum
track wound over the undulating countryside. About two kilometers ahead.
Had disappeared around the sharp turn at Packer's Mill, a
(07:41):
movement caught his eye. He saw a human figure for
a brief moment, disappearing behind one of the many trees.
He looked again at the spot, then saw the youth.
He was a thin followed dressed in the drab gray
coverall long hair flopping over his face behind him, standing
amongst the trees, the Senator could see many of dressed identically.
(08:02):
What were they doing in the forest. It was supposed
to be patrolled from the air, warning off any strays.
They were probably part of the game of Juvie's Robins
had heard that several had been seen in the vicinity lately.
He looked on the other side of the track, and
noted with a sudden, unaccountable twinge that there were many
on that side too. Instinctively, he slowed the car a little,
(08:23):
hesitating as he did so, several of the juvis levered
themselves away from the trees they were leaning against and
walked purposefully towards the track. Robins drove on cautiously. He
began to see more and more youth some of them
clustering in bunches near the track. As he passed one
(08:45):
of these bunches, a juvie spat deliberately at the car's
spittles playing across the wind screen. The first trace of
real alarm nudged at Robin's mind, and he looked into
his rear view screen. The track behind him was crowded
juvies walking easily along behind him. Some of the youths
were running, as if trying to pace the car. He
(09:08):
increased his speed again, a little nervously. The car surged forward,
its blunt nose thrusting. As the lineal plates increased their field,
hugging the aluminum strip on either side of the track,
the numbers grew. Most of the jewvies just watched, but
some of them the younger one's Robin's guest. Some of
them were shouting insults and waving sticks. The track before
(09:31):
him streamed away in a gray curve of dull ribbon,
disappearing around Packers. At the bends, Robins could see a
crowd of the youths looking towards his car expectantly. There
must be a hundred in that part alone, he guessed.
The little knot of alarm had grown inside him, swollen
by an unreasoned certainty that they had been waiting for him.
(09:53):
He found he was still accelerating, and glanced at his
speed meter that showed one hundred twenty kilometers per hour
and rising. Another look at the screen showed him more
juvis climbing down behind him. He looked around everywhere it
seemed he could see the drably dressed youths flowing on
to the track. His car shot silently towards the bend
(10:16):
at Packers, standing out like a promontory, the tree lined
bank unvexed down to the edge of the track, bearing
its cargo of young humanity, jeering and cheering as the
Senator plowed down towards them. He was going too fast
for the bend, he'd have to slow. He jabbed at
his reverse floe, and the speed dropped away a little.
(10:37):
The cheering rose as his momentum died and the Juvies
pressed nearer to the track. He went into the corner
too fast. He grappled with the emergency, breaking fighting against
the violent shuddering the tour through the cabin, bucking and pitching.
The plates ground against the strip, threatening to leave their guides.
As he came out of the bend, something metallic and
(10:59):
heavy cut the roof of the cabin, and the roar
of approval came from the perilously balanced crowd of Julie's.
In his screen, he saw a great iron girder roll
against the aluminum strip, and then he was round the corner,
whose car righted itself immediately, its gyrow holding its level
again I had The track was empty, straight and true.
(11:23):
It ran for a full kilometer, slipping gently down the
long incline bed Ahead, he could see the tall shape
of the session's hall standing like a beacon on the horizon.
A strange flash caught his eye, then another. Twin streaks
of flame shot upwards from near the base of the
hall and lost themselves in the cloud. Two more followed them,
(11:46):
and Robins realized what they were. The anti missile sight,
unmanned and fully automatic, was being brought against something. It
very much looked as if the Senator's worst fears were
justified immediately. It was all the more imperative that he
got back to the hall. He looked into his wear
(12:07):
view screen. Behind him, the bend was crowded with juvis.
They were making no attempt to follow him, evidently preferring
to watch his progress. He checked his speed and saw
that he had almost halted. What had happened there? Had
they been trying to kill him on the corner, It
seemed unlikely. From what little he knew of juvie habits.
(12:30):
The Senator was certain that whatever they did, they would
make sure would work, and with the biggest gang he'd
ever seen or heard of, he would expect something a
little more positive and terror tactics. He sweated at the thought.
If that was so, then they hadn't finished with him yet.
He craned forward against the restraining pull of his safety webbing.
(12:52):
At the end of the slope, he caught a movement.
Even as he watched, hundreds of juvis wormed out of
the trees, pushing and jostly when they fought for position
along the edge of the track. There was nothing orderly
about their movement. It was as if they'd been released
from the stockade all at once. They fought and shoved,
several of them stumbling under the track and over the
(13:13):
aluminum strip. With horror, Robin saw that those that fell
stayed there, making no effort to move any more, were
throwing themselves against the strip, deliberately placing their bodies in
his path. Torn with indecision, he looked desperately around. What
were they doing? Did they want to kill themselves? An
(13:36):
idea struck him, and he reached across for the call kit.
As he waited for a reply, he saw that the
Julies by the corner were walking down towards him. The leaders,
five rangy youths and ill fitting overalls were near the car,
and he could see now that they were carrying weapons.
He turned back to the call kit and held his
finger down on the button. No reply. What the hell
(14:02):
was going on? Then he remembered the girder that had
hit the roof. It must have damaged the aerial. There
was a crash, and his rear window starred into opacity.
The screen showed some of the youths throwing stones. He'd
have to move. Reluctantly, he started the car, moving again
(14:23):
down the slope towards the others. A great cheer rose
as he began to move, a taunting ovation of derision
and scorn. It died away, to be replaced by a chant,
an insidious and growing beat, a pounding, droning, throbbing drum
of voices, frightening and stimulating. The mocking hymn grew and grew,
(14:47):
and suddenly he caught the words. At last he understood
what the whole thing was about. The chant was one word,
one whose semantic roots lay far into the past, whose
meaning had grown and swollen with the years, and one
that now meant a semi religious cult of suicidal magnitude.
(15:08):
And all around the Senator Robins, the whole world shouted
the word chicken chicken. They screamed chicken, chicken, chicken' chicken,
And this was a run. The full implication struck Robins
(15:30):
as his car reached the fifty kph mark. He had
unwittingly let himself in for a run, something that only
happened to other people. He allowed his speed to build
up a little more. His mind worked frantically. What was
he going to do? Rather, what could he do? There
(15:51):
seemed little choice. Behind him was a hard knot of
Julie's running. Now he could see ahead of him the
pressing mob and over flown right onto the track, the
aluminum strip flying into their bodies like a gray arrow.
All along the track. The juvis stared at his car,
watching defiantly as he accelerated towards them. Robin's fear suddenly evaporated,
(16:17):
to be replaced by a strident wave of anger. These
damned juvis couldn't push him around. Who sided with drugs,
drunk with unwonted power, These unemployed and unemployable delinquents thought
they ruled the earth. Thought that was ironic, Robins reflected
as he encouraged more and more speed out of his car.
(16:40):
They practically did rule some parts of the country. He
shuddered as he thought of a world ruled by aging louts,
the ignorant and cowardly, the weak minded and strong bodied.
Every year's new unemployment figures added millions to their ranks.
Another flash on the horizon worried the corner of his
(17:02):
vision somewhere in another world, it seemed a war had started.
He glanced at his speed meter and saw that he
still had plenty of speed in hand. He wasn't far
from the nearest Jewvies, and he began to imagine that
he could see their faces. In fact, all he could
see was a blur of white and brown, an untidy
(17:25):
heap of humanity testing their bravery against his. He held
his speed at a study one hundred and embraced himself
nearer ever nearer. All around him, the chanting screamed and throbbed,
urging and pushing him to hold his speed. What was
(17:45):
he doing? What was there to prove? He wasn't a coward?
He knew that. Why did he have to test himself
in front of these morons? There was no bravery in
throwing a ton of plastic and steel at a mouth
than the human bodies, mangling and maiming, killing, to prove
himself he wasn't a Jewvie. He wasn't ruled by any mob.
(18:08):
He was a civilized person in a civilized community, a
respected person in a position of trust. He was a
senator and had the faith of twenty thousand voters behind him.
Trusting his dignity and discrettion, and most important, he was human.
It was abhorrent to his very nature to kill for
its own sake, to plow through a hundred bodies, destroying
(18:29):
life and making it a pleasure. He was one hundred
meters from the mound of juvies. The chanting throbbed into
his consciousness, exciting and stimulating him, beating like the jungle
drums of primitive peoples. It seemed to get faster and
faster in crescendo of hate, mounting and spiraling. As he
(18:51):
sped ever closer. He could see their faces, now pink
and white and gray, all of them staring fixedly at
his car, waiting for him to He could see their
mouths opening and closing as they chanted. They'd never break,
there were too many of them. They'd sit there until
(19:11):
he killed them all. They'd sit there, watching him, watching
as he rammed them. He made his decision, grabbed the
emergency brake and applied full reverse thrust. He slammed forward
into the webbing of straps, seeming to hang there as
the great plates fought against the momentum. No scream of brakes,
(19:32):
no squeal of rubber, A silent, steady, remorseless pull of power,
acting like a barrier of unyielding cotton wool. He felt
as if he hung there for an eternity. His reactions nill,
eyes blinded by a sudden fireball, and then he was free.
(19:52):
He slumped into a seat as the car stopped a
bare meter from the nearest Chuvi. He lulled forward, sliding
downside the strap, eyes still blind from the sun white
glare outside. A hot wind blew and a great hand
lifted his car. There was a terrible silence when he
(20:19):
came round. The first thing he saw was his watch,
still ticking and apparently undamaged. He'd been unconscious only a
few minutes. There was something wrong with his vision, as
if he were seeing everything through a maze of retinal shadow.
He moved experimentally. There was a pain in his side,
(20:40):
but nothing else seemed to be damaged. Automatically, he reached
where the webbing release and freed himself. The car, with
most of its windows smashed, was lying on its side
a long way from the track. He climbed up through
what had been the windscreen, treading cautiously in the broken
remains of the controls. Outside, there was inferno. The Sessions
(21:06):
Hall had vanished, replaced instead by a great trunk of cloud.
On all sides of the trees had been flattened and
stripped of their leaves. Many were burning their smoke, adding
to the desolate cloud of nuclear release. And all around
the bodies of the juvies lay. All had been burned,
all were now dead. Robin stood there for a long time.
(21:33):
Presently he began to cough, and blood trickled to his lips.
He turned his back on what had once been the
hall and walked erratically up the way he had come
so recently. Overhead, a low flight of yellow rockets skimmed
away from the black cloud its instants. That was the run,
(23:10):
A story written by Chris Priest. It comes from an
anthology edited by Judith Merrill titled England Swings s F.
I'm Michael Hanson. Technical operation for this program by Dan Schmidt.
Mind webs is a production of WHA Radio in Madison,
(23:31):
the service of the University of Wisconsin Extension
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