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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 place 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 pseudologic 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."

Posted 6 January 1997

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