Mind Webs - Moth Race

0:00Online viewing behind Welcome to a half hour of mind waves. Short stories from the worlds of speculative fiction. This is Michael Hanson with a mind web story from the collection edited by Harlan

2:27John Fruvi excitement they generated at once stimulated and disturbed by it. He saw medium cameras perched around the stadium ring and around the crack below and he knew that dwellings all over the world were followed that we created sensations of the stadium. Even those who could not go, he knew where he was synced in, hours before the race waiting. Those who had been before knew they could never go again. Those who hadn't hoped for a ticket next year and wondered what they could do to improve their chances. Only they, the government understood why some got tickets and others didn't. This year there had been a ticket for John, he did not know why. It was the one day of the year that nobody used easy pills. John Lowe and a customer who wilded his own problems. Probably they knew this would not work as well if you used easy pills.

3:28What because nobody used them, there was anxiety and dwellings where screens glowed and people sat and in the stadium itself where the lucky ones get. There were even a few fights impossible any other day of the year. They were brief, chiefly because the men fighting were not used to it and they were frightened by their own guns. One saw one such fights and one man's nose began to bleed, both men stopped and stared at each other in surprise for a moment and sat down. There was also the wine, something you could get only in the stadium and everyone took advantage of the chance to drink it. Sympatic of course, only the champion, as far as John knew, got to drink real wine. It came from dispensies at the end of each row and people passed it down to others with comrade Leach here. John raised his pouch and shot a stream of the delicious red stuff into his mouth. He was at the end of the row next to the dispenser and had only to reach for more. He was also almost directly below the dignitaries box and would be able to see what went on

4:31there. He filled his mouth again and thought as he slowly swallowed about those outside, watching him drink and wondering how it tasted. Or watching him and knowing they who had never tasted again. He didn't know why but the taste and the fact of a wine was never broadcasted with medium. John turned and looked at the dignitaries box and saw the champion. He must have just come and as the murmur of acknowledgement passed through the crowd, John thought, how close he is. I could walk five feet and touch him. Gray haired and imposing lined face. The champion looked fixately at the track ignoring the chatter of the unknown dignitaries seated around him. Some complained he was an unsatisfactory champion, too quiet or egotistical and reluctant to talk about himself. After all they argued was it not part of the champion's duties to share his experiences with others? At least that was the theory.

5:32But since there had never been another champion, comparisons were impossible. John could remember when there was no champion at all and very thinly, the times before the racists. The race had been held for five years before there was a champion and people whispered that they were thinking of stopping them because it appeared no one could win. Then the champion came and the rumours stopped. Like everyone else in the world, John had followed him on the median. For seven years now they had watched him hunt lions, fish from Marlon climb mountains, all in off-limits areas were none of them to go. They had shared his romance with Rita Landers, the beacon star, and only one in the world whose fame approached his. Of course there were government officials, some of them in the dignitaries boxed with him now, but nobody knew or cared about them. They were not the real government anyway, only its physical representatives. Or so at least, John suspected though he never spoke of it with anyone.

6:34He had once seen the champion on an iceberg and thought the government must be like that mostly out of sight and different from what it appeared. There was a rumor that Rita Landers, every man's idea of perfect beauty, was the result of an experiment in genetics which they had abandoned after creating her. Since they had her, the rumor went, they decided to make her the only medium star, a receptacle of men's desires. It was shortly after her rise to fame, the champion won. The people had all seen the champion they loved to other women, an endless string of them chosen from all over the world. They were not Rita Landers, but they were the best that accidental breeding could produce. And the people had experienced, as well as seen the champion's conquests through the medium. They had sex themselves but never with such variety. They had dined through him on food, none of them could ever have.

7:34They took their vitamin in which to yeast and algae pearls three times a day and waited to experience his meals. Shiny red lobsters with plump white meat, succulent roasts and steaks, checkings with shiny brown crusts and roasting them much more. All this was only part of the winner's prize. It was one of the reasons men raced. John would never race, although as a member of the audience he was eligible. Possibly some of the men around him would try, lured by the possibility of a life like the champions. Some always did. A man beside John asked, Eh, what do you think? About what? About the race. What do you think I'm talking about? His accent was difficult to identify. There are still many dialects of English despite the influence of the medium. Remnants, John gasped to the days before language unification. Influence of the original tongue in English.

8:35John hadn't heard many other dialects. He didn't think of his own speech as dialect. And he told the man, Yeah, of course it's exciting. Are you a race? No, no not me, I'm on the list to be married. Yeah, who isn't? But we got about as much chance of marrying as we do of winning this race. And then jabbed him in the ribs as he laughed with local custom, maybe, but that was how the fight started. Well, now you still have hope. I want a child. That world has enough children, but we could use another champion. Don't you like him? Sure, I admire him, but why can't he loosen up halts? It's undemocratic. What's the champion for if not to tell us what? The landers and those others are like, huh? But we all all headed on the medium. John said, remembering how aroused he and Betty had been afterward. Okay, good, but not good enough.

9:36Remember what he said afterward when reporters asked him, You saw for yourselves, That isn't the arrogance for you. I want to hear him talk about it. He did seem excited about that African girl. He said, John, remembering how strangely the champion had behaved in that interview. She must have been something. And sometimes, you know, it doesn't come across on the medium. Yeah, yeah, true love. And too bad they wouldn't let him stay with her for a man, but how about their rest? Imagine having all that stuff and being moved from one to another and having nothing more to say than that. And he clenched almost furfully at the champion again. Besides, I don't like the idea of him preferring that black. Did you take your pills today? Ah, of course not. Damien, nobody does on a day. He realized what John was asking him and looking berest. It was the first prejudice John had seen in years.

10:37The easy pills usually took care of that. I wouldn't be that way. Said a voice to John's left, he was younger than John really only a boy. I wouldn't be that way. I'd be a good champion. Ha, you wouldn't know what to do with Rita Landers. The boy was on his feet. Take that back. The man hesitated and dropped his eyes. Eh, what the hell? You won't race anyway. But I will. Said the boy as if he had just made up his mind. I'm going now. The boy began walking down the ramp. John had an impulse to stop him, but didn't. After all, without racers, there could be no race. Perhaps he wouldn't make it. After all, the champion had. Wow. How do you think of that? He's really going to do it. John looked away and did not answer. There were six racers on the track now. One more than last year. Perhaps there would be others, although it was rare for others to volunteer after the race

11:40had begun. A boy like this one who had just gone down might have been expected to live another 80 or 90 years before he failed his physical. He would never be ill, never hungry, never anxious, neither too hot, nor too cold, never without a sexual partner. If he wanted a child, he could get on the list like everyone else. And maybe before he was too old, he could get permission to have one. If he were exceptional, he might even go to college and do something really important like work in the undersea food farms or in a moon lab. He might be selected for one of the colonies or join the government if his tests indicated such an aptitude. Then he could have a travel permit, at least on a knee basis, and wouldn't have to wait like the shoppeople for the race and hope for a ticket just to leave his city. Yet he and others did it. They risked everything just to be heroes. If being a hero was all he wanted, that was the way.

12:43Even though it was a lost race, became famous and their pictures all over the world for a year. But it had never made sense to John. He had his moments of foolishness when it occurred to him, but then he would think of Betty's warmth and softness and smile. Why should he risk, was it that? Or he would think again of how hopeless it was to win, but the race was rigged in the thought of fighting. There was something about the spectacle that disturbed him, though he would never have been admitted to him. The six borough presented their inferred cassettes to the recorders so that everything about them could be adjusted before the race. The road it as the computer worked, he saw the boy move his feet nervously. Once the computer had you a percent, you had to go. The cars were lined up at the starting gates. They seemed smaller than a year's past when he'd seen them on the medium. They were bright colored aluminum machines with room for only the driver.

13:44The gates were buried in the track now, apparently under the control of the track computer. John realized with surprise that he was already sunburned and wine was working on him. He looked around the crowd noticing that the noise level had risen. And if the others too were affected, it was a strange feeling. Something like power and something like courage. So those words were just beginning to have meaning. The track was clear now and the cranes stood ominously in the infield. The sight of it sobered John somewhat. Ladies and gentlemen, the race will begin in five minutes. The announcer's voice surprised him. He hadn't realized race time was so close. The tension was heavy in the air and the crowd noise were suddenly hushed. The language of the program was simple, low key, nothing to detract from the serious purpose of the day. They would never have allowed this John thought vaguely if it were not serious and important.

14:45He didn't know where the idea had come from, though there had been rumors about that too. One was that the social engineers, or whoever controlled them, were worried about the easy things. They were not sure that undesirable behavior would not somehow come to the surface despite the easy feelings. Nor were they certain that everyone could be trusted to take them. Strict enforcement was possible but not desirable. They wanted some way to release the tension the fills merely covered up. Someone could come up with the race. The events here today are serious and have great magnitude for the world. We have gathered to admire the courage of those who race today and to praise once again our great champion. The crowd was immediately on its feet, despite the earlier grumbling, applauding wildly as the grizzled champion stood. All the wine reddened in some burnt faces grinned and there was even more noise.

15:46Wine skins popped to the floor. The other dignitaries with the champion were clapping and trying to shake his hand, trying to draw some of the glory to themselves. John realized that Rita Landers had arrived and was now standing beside the champion. It's though true to some ancient ritual she had arrived at the last minute. Champ, the crowd screamed. Rita, champ, Rita, champ, Rita, and John has caught up in their emotion. Surely there had never been too more desirable and admirable people he thought and his eyes were wet with tears crying. Yet somehow the champion seemed untouched by the crowd almost sad and bored. John chanted loud as though they would break the champion from the start mood. And the tears streamed down his son, Redden Cheeks, he yelled until he knew Dizzy and had us a down. Finally, the crowd's noise began to subside but not completely. There was now that frenzied undertone he remembered hearing from the media

16:50and that other races, this was what they had come for. The announcer knew it and moved them expertly before they could begin their chant again. Our first racer, Esadikichi Muramoto from Tokyo, is 25 years old and works in shop 13. The announcer went on using the computer-organized biography. By the time he had finished, John felt he knew the man from Tokyo. Then it was time for the first race. Esadikichi climbed into his car, a red one, and was pushed a few feet to the starting line. And officials stood by the button with his hand raised. There was as everyone knew, no controlling the speed. It was 60 miles an hour, calculated around the track in two minutes. If the driver could avoid the gates. The gates would rise as the gate would rise. The gates would rise as the computer determined at various places along the five lanes.

17:52At that speed, it was unrealistic to try to avoid them. Indeed, by the time the car reached one, it might well have snapped back into the track. It was all simply a matter of chance. There was no controlling once fate on the track. Yet almost every driver tried. Muramoto got almost a mile weaving from lane to lane before a gate rose in front of him. He swirled to avoid it and ran into another with shit risen where a moment before no gate had been. The gate he had swirled to avoid was already back in place by the time his car impacted. The car crumpled as it was designed to do, like in a courtian. Breathe the crowd as one, and then individual shots of... And he's hit it. All around him people were crying. John felt tears again in his own eyes. It was difficult to remember from year to year what it was like.

18:54The easy pills probably prevented that. But this was it all right. And much stronger than what you got through the medium. His head throbbed with a wine as he let his emotions be purged with the others. He was such a promising young man. Why couldn't he make it? She was comforted by a man said nice. Who said sadly. It's all right. You know they have to try. But you can't beat the gates, she said. And the man said without much conviction. Well, the chat room did. The crane moved slowly to the place on the track where the car had struck and lifted it. The gate snapped back into place unharmed. And the crane deposited crumpled car and driver into a vehicle waiting on the infield. There would be a collective burial of drivers and their cars after the race.

19:59Our next racer is a man from... And so it continued. John knew why it was better to be here at the stadium than to experience it at home. The crowd was as one sharing its collective sorrow and strength. There was no more hatred, no more separation. After the third racer, a woman named Cornsweiler from Buenos Aires, who barely got away from the starting line before a gate crushed her like a moth against moving transport window. He saw the man who had shown bigotry earlier walked down three rows to put his hand on a weeping black woman shoulder. Everyone was crying now. Everyone except the champion. John saw him above sitting impassively while Rita wept on his shoulder. The boy was last. They saw him hesitate and then climb into a yellow car.

20:59The officials hand came down and he was off, attaining top speed almost immediately. He too chose to dodge from lane to lane. The second hand moved on the stadium clock as he got farther around the track. You're from Jacksonville. John thought as the tiny car moved. You work in shop 36. Your name is Henry Matthews. All of that must count. Make it count. Then a gate caught the boy too. You can't beat the gates. It was the last race so the crowd released its pity and relaxed its fear for all the racers. The stadium was filled with it. The race was over now and they mourned their heroes well. But in the process they repaired themselves to carry on. We did not race. They thought. We must go on living.

22:02They felt a load had been lifted from them. They felt almost lighthearted. But suddenly there was a commotion. People turned to look. It was the wrong time for a disturbance and they resented it. And someone said, the champion. John too looked behind and saw the champion standing. His expression had not changed. He still looked bored. The champion did beat the gates. They remembered together. Was he going to speak? John wondered. He had never spoken voluntarily before. John stood and turned around to see better. Then he noticed Rita pulling on the champion's arm. She was screaming, no, no. The dignitaries tried to hold the champion back and we shrugged off. The champion began to walk down the ramp. John still could not understand until someone screamed. He's going to race. Yes, he thought as he watched the champion come down the ramp toward him.

23:05It could only mean that. But why, John wondered and heard voices in the crowd echo his question. The champion had everything in the world he could want. He had travel and women and food and adventure and fame. He had earned it already and did not have to earn it again. The champion looked at someone the crowd as he passed. John was one of those whose eyes met his. Over a long minutes had seemed and he felt drowned in sadness. He felt the champion was trying to tell him something. Was that it? Could the champion be tired of his life? Was there something about it none of them knew something to confirm John's nagging doubts that could make him do this? The wine had his head so hot so confused. It was a terrifying idea and John fought to put it from his mind. Surely that wasn't what the champion had tried to tell him. But the way he had looked at him.

24:06Then the champion was walking under the field. He spoke briefly with the announcer who appeared not to know what to do. The announcer disappeared for a few minutes and then we appeared at the microphone. The champion will defend his title. A silver grey car. The color of the champion's hair was rolled under the track. With no hesitation he climbed in and allowed it to be pushed to the line. The crowd was becoming hysterical. No, don't let him. John heard and turned to see Rita struggling with two of the dignitaries but the crowd they got up. Don't let him, don't let him. They began to chance. Don't let him. John chanted with them. But when he looked back the race had begun. The champion had won the first time by driving straight down the center lane. He knew the odds and didn't try to outman over the gates. Others had tried his system without success.

25:08But there was no doubt it had worked for him and he was using it again this time. Already he was beginning the second mile and still moving. Did he have some special charm? The champion made it with the luck that brought him through the first time bringing through again? Then suddenly the champion was gone and unseen but felt red explosion inside a silver grey lump of aluminum. The crane did not move as though it could not believe it's next task. There was a deep and long silence. Then there was a growing noise in the stadium. John realized part of it was coming from him. At first it was inarticulate like the cries of animals. Then it found words. He's gone. Someone screamed.

26:08There's no more champion. We've lost him. The champion didn't make it. A pounding grew in John's head and became a refrain with which he led the crowd. We made a champion. We made a champion. He did not know its origin. Not even really its meaning. But it was there, throbbing in his head overwhelming him completely. It had now been communicated to the others and the whole stadium shook with the sound. We made a champion. We made a champion. Then suddenly it was I will be the champion. I will be the champion. I will be the champion. And then John was running down the ramp toward the track, waving his arms and shouting.

27:14I will. I will. I will. And behind him came others. The story you've heard this time was morethrace written by Richard Hill. It appears in the collection again dangerous of visions volume two at a Diffaharlanawson. I'm Michael Hanson, technical operation for this program by Marsha Phillips. Mindwebs comes to you from WHA Radio and Madison, a service of University of Wisconsin Extension.