I DIDN’T know then that the Stronghold would run itself, all fixed in the tapes of “automatic administration,” and that my main function would be to war with neighborhood Strongholds, gun worldly at times (when required), enjoy the standard Joys of the ruling-class new-metal man and engage in such splinter other diversions as I might want to dream up on my own from time to time for kicks. Oh, no, I was a new King and a new King WILL be a King. I called them out, about as soon as I was “home,” for verbal head thumping, to let them know first-off that one King, and ONE King only, existed at Stronghold 10. YES!
“Men,” I said to my crew assembled, phfluggee-phflaggee voice on STERN, but still a little bit emotional, “you play ball with me and I’ll play ball with you.” (GOD! what a thing for a King to say.) I thumped the tapes. “Just an old expression,” I apologized and laughed, “Ha huk! Disregard it, and let’s start again. MEN! Don’t play ball with me and I’ll shove the bat up.” (GOD! so this was going to be one of THOSE days.) “MEN! Cooperate and all WILL be well. Do what I say and we’ll have a good life here, and maybe even a little bit of fun. OBEDIENCE is the first consideration. Respect for law is THE FIRST law. And your King, I, is THE LAW!” Did I hear a metal robot laughing? Or did I hear a long silence from my assembled crew resting on the laurels of their cold silent switches?
At any rate, with the newness of my metal ringing in my mechanized ears, and not just a little bit confused and unsure, I rambled on, saying the things I thought a new Commander should say to let the troops know that the new regime was HERE! gung ho and it was NO NONSENSE now and GO! GO!! GO!!! all the way. “When I find a man not pulling his weight,” I said, “when I find a man not giving ME one hundred and twenty-five percent, at least, effort, I’ve found an enemy. If that man IF THAT MAN, THAT RAT, cannot come to me and show me health reasons why he’s lagging, God help him to his grave. He’d better wish his father and mother, nay twenty-five hundred forebears farther back removed than that, had never been born, much less him. I’ll flay him clear back to Adam for his ancestry, if need be!” (And God, these were just little metal people, but I was off and running now.)
“I’ll ask my Corps of Engineers to install some of the most sophisticated snoop gear in the history of mankind. I’ll have them install signals and graphs and all kinds of metering devices. And as a fair little warning to you, let me say, and let it not be misunderstood, that I have never in all my life been fooled in my own personal estimate of an individual, his potential, his behavior, his overall utilization of self. Not that I’ll need it, but I’ll tell you ahead of time what I’m having put in to verify to all what I will know already. It will be called the ‘Beep for Record’ plan. When any man ANY MAN! is remiss in any one of the many categories in which a man can be remiss, throughout all this great new Stronghold a giant BEEP will sound, alerting all. Then that man’s name—you do have names, I trust, or numbers—anyway, that man’s designation will be loudmouthed throughout all this vast fort; his designation will reverberate from wall to wall, from hall to hall, from ceiling to floor, ALL EVERYWHERE, as a miscreant. Let each man EACH MAN, please, now make a silent vow to keep his personal part of the ‘Beep for Record’ silent. Then he’ll know he’s doing what he should be doing anyway, without this threat. That’s all. Just what he should be doing anyway. He can expect no prizes for his silent BEEP. It will only mean that he is functioning adequately. Is that understood?
“For prizes? Well, I have BIG plans for that, which we’ll go into at some better, later time. But for just right now, I’d much rather that you get clear that this is a no-nonsense place, and we mean business at this Stronghold. I’m King here and you are my subjects. I mean to be the greatest King in Moderan and that will mean that you will be the greatest subjects in Moderan. Let’s work hard. Our goals are simple. To be first First FIRST, those are our plans. Let no man shirk. Heaven HEAVEN help him if he does. Do I want a happy Stronghold? Ha phaw! Happy Strongholds are for old women warriors. I want a steel-driven Stronghold. I want a cold Stronghold. I want a Stronghold such that when the steel birds hit our air they’ll feel a chill along the very wings they flap to flee our space. I want no mollycoddles. And I’ll not be a mollycoddle’s nursemaid. I’ll take heads off; I’ll melt people down. It could well be that the most obedient man in all the Stronghold will inexplicably one bleak day find himself in the pot. He won’t know why; I won’t know why, except that these things work out. Strength answers to strength. Let no one feel secure. Yet let every man go at that special speed which leaves no room for acceleration. What I mean, you’ll be at MAX at all times and all the way. When you wear out I’ll replace you with no thought whatsoever concerning what you were. The GOAL of the overall effort is the ALL that counts. The little component parts mean nothing NOTHING, except they contribute. And then their meaning is only in their time of function. I HOPE I HAVE MADE MY POSITION PERFECTLY CLEAR.”
I was quite exhausted along my flesh-strips and tired around the rims of my loins as I thumbed the phfluggee-phflaggee to SILENT. Was I trying too hard? Is a speech from the heart ever “trying too hard”? Were the troops fired up? Had I impressed them? A silence greeted me in a stopped Stronghold, a complete cessation that could mean ANYTHING, EVERYTHING or NOTHING. I walked over and touched one of them and even through my steel hand such a coldness was transferred that I rejoiced and thought of a million acres of ice. I touched another and it was quite the same.