the real trouble was that jorgenson saw things as a business man does. but also, and contradictorily, he saw them as right and just, or as wrong and intolerable. as a business man, he should have kept his mind on business and never bothered about ganti. as a believer in right and wrong, it would have been wiser for him to have stayed off the planet thriddar altogether. thriddar was no place for him, anyhow you look at it. on this particular morning it was especially the wrong place for him to be trying to live and do business.
he woke up thinking of ganti, and in consequence he was in a bad mood right away. most humans couldn't take the sort of thing that went on on thriddar. most of them wanted to use missile weapons—which the thrid did not use—to change the local social system. most humans got off thriddar—fast! and boiling mad.
jorgenson had stood it longer than most because in spite of their convictions he liked the thrid. their minds did do outside loops, and come up with intolerable convictions. but they were intelligent enough. they had steam-power and even steam-driven atmosphere fliers, but they didn't have missile weapons and they did have a social system that humans simply couldn't accept—even though it applied only to thrid. the ordinary thrid, with whom jorgenson did business, weren't bad people. it was the officials who made him grind his teeth. and though it was his business only to run the trading post of the rim stars trading corporation, sometimes he got fed up.
this morning was especially beyond the limit. there was a new grand panjandrum—the term was jorgenson's own for the supreme ruler over all the thrid—and when jorgenson finished his breakfast a high thrid official waited in the trading-post compound. around him clustered other thrid, wearing the formal headgear that said they were witnesses to an official act.
jorgenson went out, scowling, and exchanged the customary ceremonial greetings. then the high official beamed at him and extracted a scroll from his voluminous garments. jorgenson saw the glint of gold and was suspicious at once. the words of a current grand panjandrum were always written in gold. if they didn't get written in gold they didn't get written at all; but it was too bad if anybody ignored any of them.
the high official unrolled the scroll. the thrid around him, wearing witness hats, became utterly silent. the high official made a sound equivalent to clearing his throat. the stillness became death-like.
"on this day," intoned the high official, while the witnesses listened reverently, "on this day did glen-u the never-mistaken, as have been his predecessors throughout the ages;—on this day did the never-mistaken glen-u speak and say and observe a truth in the presence of the governors and the rulers of the universe."
jorgenson reflected sourly that the governors and the rulers of the universe were whoever happened to be within hearing of the grand panjandrum. they were not imposing. they were scared. everybody is always scared under an absolute ruler, but the grand panjandrum was worse than that. he couldn't make a mistake. whatever he said had to be true, because he said it, and sometimes it had drastic results. but past grand panjandrums had spoken highly of the trading post. jorgenson shouldn't have much to worry about. he waited. he thought of ganti. he scowled.
"the great and never-mistaken glen-u," intoned the official again, "in the presence of the governors and the rulers of the universe, did speak and say and observe that it is the desire of the rim star trading corporation to present to him, the great and never-mistaken glen-u, all of the present possessions of the said rim stars trading corporation, and thereafter to remit to him all moneys, goods, and benefactions to and of the said rim stars trading corporation as they shall be received. the great and never-mistaken glen-u did further speak and say and observe that anyone hindering this loyal and admirable gift must, by the operation of truth, vanish from sight and nevermore be seen face to face by any rational being."
the high official rolled up the scroll, while jorgenson exploded inside.
a part of this was reaction as a business man. a part was recognition of all the intolerable things that the thrid took as a matter of course. if jorgenson had reacted solely as a business man he'd have swallowed it, departed on the next rim stars trading-ship—which would not have left any trade-goods behind—and left the grand panjandrum to realize what he had lost when no off-planet goods arrived on thriddar. in time he'd speak and say and observe that he, out of his generosity, gave the loot back. then the trading could resume. but jorgenson didn't feel only like a business man this morning. he thought of ganti, who was a particular case of everything he disliked on thriddar.
it was not wise to be moved by such sympathetic feelings. the grand panjandrum could not be mistaken. it was definitely unwise to contradict him. it could even be dangerous. jorgenson was in a nasty spot.
the witnesses murmured reverently:
"we hear the words of the never-mistaken glen-u."
the high official tucked away the scroll and said blandly:
"i will receive the moneys, goods, and benefactions it is the desire of the rim stars trading corporation to present to the great and never-mistaken glen-u."
jorgenson, boiling inside, nevertheless knew what he was doing. he said succinctly:
"like hell you will!"
there was an idiom in thrid speech that had exactly the meaning of the human phrase. jorgenson used it.
the high official looked at him in utter stupefaction. nobody contradicted the grand panjandrum! nobody! the thrid had noticed long ago that they were the most intelligent race in the universe. since that was so, obviously they must have the most perfect government. but no government could be perfect if its officials made mistakes. so no thrid official ever made a mistake. in particular the great and never-mistaken glen-u could not conceivably blunder! when he said a thing, it was true! it had to be! he'd said it! and this was the fundamental fact in the culture of the thrid.
"like hell you'll receive moneys and goods and such!" snapped jorgenson. "like hell you will!"
the high official literally couldn't believe his ears.
"but—but the great and never-mistaken glen-u—"
"is mistaken!" said jorgenson bitingly. "he's wrong! the rim stars trading corporation does not want to give him anything! what he has said is not true!" this was the equivalent of treason, blasphemy and the ultimate of indecorous behavior toward a virgin pelean princess. "i won't give him anything! i'm not even vanishing from sight! glen-u is wrong about that, too! now—git!"
he jerked out his blaster and pulled the trigger.
there was an explosive burst of flame from the ground between the official and himself. the official fled. with him fled all the witnesses, some even losing their headgear in their haste to get away.
jorgenson stamped into the trading-post building. his eyes were stormy and his jaw was set.
he snapped orders. the hired thrid of the trading-post staff had not quite grasped the situation. they couldn't believe it. automatically, as he commanded the iron doors and shutters of the trading post closed, they obeyed. they saw him turn on the shocker-field so that nobody could cross the compound without getting an electric shock that would discourage him. they began to believe.
then he sent for the trading-post thrid consultant. on earth he'd have called for a lawyer. on a hostile world there'd have been a soldier to advise him. on thrid the specialist to be consulted wasn't exactly a theologian, but he was nearer that than anything else.
jorgenson laid the matter indignantly before him, repeating the exact phrases that said the trading company wanted—wanted!—practically to give itself to the never-mistaken glen-u, who was the grand panjandrum of thriddar. he waited to be told that it couldn't have happened; that anyhow it couldn't be intended. but the theologian's thriddish ears went limp, which amounted to the same thing as a man's face turning pale. he stammered agitatedly that if the grand panjandrum said it, it was true. it couldn't be otherwise! if the trading company wanted to give itself to him, there was nothing to be done. it wanted to! the grand panjandrum had said so!
"he also said," said jorgenson irritably, "that i'm to vanish and nevermore be seen face to face by any rational being. how does that happen? do i get speared?"
the trading-post theologian quivered. jorgenson made things much worse.
"this," he raged, "this is crazy! the grand panjandrum's an ordinary thrid just like you are! of course he can make a mistake! there's nobody who can't be wrong!"
the theologian put up feebly protesting, human-like hands. he begged hysterically to be allowed to go home before jorgenson vanished, with unknown consequences for any thrid who might be nearby.
when jorgenson opened a door to kick him out of it, the whole staff of the trading-post plunged after him. they'd been eavesdropping and they fled in pure horror.
jorgenson swore impartially at all of them and turned the shocker-field back on. he plugged in a capacity circuit which would turn on warning sirens if anything like a steam-driven copter passed or hovered over the trading-post. he put blasters in handy positions. the thrid used only spears, knives and scimitars. blasters would defend the post against a multitude.
as a business man, he'd acted very foolishly. but he'd acted even less sensibly as a human being. he'd gotten fed up with a social system and a—call it—theology it wasn't his business to change. true, the thrid way of life was appalling, and what had happened to ganti was probably typical. but it wasn't jorgenson's affair. he'd been unwise to let it disturb him. if the thrid wanted things this way, it was their privilege.
in theory, no thrid should ever make a mistake, because he belonged to the most intelligent race in the universe. but a local governor was even more intelligent. if an ordinary thrid challenged a local governor's least and lightest remark—why—he must be either a criminal or insane. the local governor decided—correctly, of course—which he was. if he was a criminal, he spent the rest of his life in a gang of criminals chained together and doing the most exhausting labor the thrid could contrive. if he was mad, he was confined for life.
