A Matter For Men Part 23

"Well, of course, I understand that!" she snapped. "But I'm talking about the real world now. You have to give us back our money!"

"You don't understand." Whitlaw grinned at her. "This is the real world. Right here. And I don't have to. I am empowered by the federal government to do whatever is necessary to fulfill the course requirements. And that includes taxes-if I so deem it necessary."

She folded her arms. "Well, we don't have to cooperate."

Whitlaw shrugged. "Fine. I'll have you arrested."

"What? You'll send me to the princ.i.p.al's office?"

"No, I mean arrested, as in read you your rights and throw you in the slammer, the lockup, the hoosegow, durance vile, the Bastille, the Tombs, the Tower of London, Devil's Island and Alcatraz-do I make myself clear?"

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. Look it up."

"But that's not fair!"

"So what? You already agreed to it, so what are you complaining about?" He tapped two of his troops. "Throw her out of here-and that other fellow too, the one we executed earlier. They're automatically flunked." Whitlaw's army didn't look happy about it, but they started down the aisle.

Janice looked genuinely scared, but she scooped up her books and clipboard and went.

"You'll wait next door until the period is over," Whitlaw said. "Anyone else want to question the authority of this government?"

No. n.o.body else did.

"Good." Whitlaw sat down and put his feet up on his desk. "I'm flunking everyone who opens his mouth out of turn." He picked up a book and an apple, opened the book and started reading. Periodically, he would take a loud bite from his apple, audibly reminding us of his presence.

The army looked uncertain. "Should we sit down, sir?"

"Of course not. You're on duty."

The rest of us exchanged glances. What was the point of this? The fellow to whom Whitlaw had recommended joining the debate team leaned over and whispered to a friend, "He's daring us to try something."

"Well, you try. I don't want to get thrown out."

"But don't you see, if we all organize-"

Whitlaw stood up suddenly, glowering. "What's that? Sounds like subversion to me!" He stepped forward and grabbed the debater by his shirt, pulling him out of his seat. "I won't have that!" He dragged the boy out of the room.

In the brief moment that he was gone, there was bedlam. "The man's a loonie-"

"-This is crazy-"

"-Can't we do something?"

I stood up. "Listen! We outnumber him! We don't have to let him get away with this."

"Shut up, Jim! You're just gonna get us all in worse trouble!"

"Let him talk-"

"You got an idea, Jim?"

"Well, no ... but . . ."

Whitlaw came back in then, and I slid back into my seat fast enough to feel the heat.

Whitlaw turned to his troops. "What kind of army are you? I leave the room for less than a minute, and I come back to find rabble-rousers preaching sedition in the aisles! I want you to arrest and expel every one who complained-or you'll get thrown out too!"

There were five of us.

"Is that all?" Whitlaw bellowed. "If you missed anyone, I'll have your heads!"

The army looked scared. After a moment's whispered conference, they picked three more people and all eight of us trooped out.

"But I didn't even say anything!" Joey Hubre looked close to tears. "Tell him!" he appealed to his twin.

"You do," shouted Whitlaw, "and you go too. In fact, you'd better go anyway-you're probably both trouble!"

There were twelve of us in the next-door cla.s.sroom. We sat glumly looking at each other. Confused, puzzled and very hurt. We could hear Whitlaw bellowing. And then, abruptly, there was silence. A moment after that, three more exiles joined us. "What'd he do? Execute the cla.s.s?"

"Naw-he declared a national silence," said Paul Jastrow. "That's why he threw us out. I pa.s.sed a note. He said I was publishing treason."

"What's he trying to prove?" complained Janice.

"Tyranny, I guess. That's what started this, remember?"

"Well, what are we supposed to do about it?"

"Isn't it obvious? We're supposed to rebel!"

"Oh, sure! We can't even open our mouths to complain! How are we going to organize?"

"We can organize," I said. "In here. We'll form an army of liberation. The other cla.s.s members will support us."

"You sure of that? He's got them so terrified they're p.i.s.sing in their pants."

"Well, we've got to try," said Hank Chelsea, standing up. "I'm for it."

"Count me out," said Jastrow.

I stood up. "I think it's the only way."

Janice stood up. "I-I don't like this, but I'll go along with it because we've got to show him he can't do this to us."

Two of the other boys stood up, and one of the girls. "Come on, John. Joey?"

"Uh uh. I don't want to get yelled at anymore."

"Aren't you angry?"

"I just want my money back."

"Paul?"

"He'll just throw us out again."

"Wait a minute, Jim." That was Mariette. "Just what is it you want us to do anyway? What's your plan?"

"We go in there and declare the dictatorship over."

"Oh, sure, and then he yells at us some more and his army throws us out again. He's hired two more thugs."

"They're not thugs, they just look like it."

"All football players are thugs to me. Anyway, there's six of 'em now. So what are you gonna do about that?"

Six people started to answer her at once, but Hank Chelsea held up his hand and said, "No, wait-she's right! We need a plan! Look, try this. We open all three doors of the room at once-that startles everybody. Then, before he can say anything, the girls have got to go for the army-no, listen to me. I'm betting that they won't hit the girls. What you do is put one girl on each soldier. She gives him a big hug and a kiss and tells him to join us-"

"Yeah, and then what?"

"-and that we'll pay them double what he's paying them!"

"He's paying them three caseys each now."

"No, they'll join us. But only if each girl takes one boy. Grab his arm and start talking to him. Say whatever you have to, and don't let go until he agrees to join us."

"Yeah, right, Mr. Big Shot. So you get the women to do the dirty work. What are the men going to do?"

"We're going after the honcho and reclaiming the national treasury."

We debated the plan for a few more minutes, during which time two more exiles joined us. They agreed to join the revolution almost immediately and suggested some refinements to the attack. We were almost ready when Joey Hubre sniffled and said, "What if someone gets hurt? What about that?"

That stopped us for a moment, and we had to rethink our plan again. But Paul Jastrow said, "Well, what of it? This is war, isn't it?"

"No, he's right," said Hank. "Maybe Whitlaw wouldn't care if he hurt anyone, but we're supposed to be an army of liberation. We're not going to hurt anyone."

"Unless they ask for it," muttered Jastrow.

"No, not even then," snapped Hank.

"Who appointed you general? I didn't!"

"All right-" Hank put up his hands. "We'll take a vote-"

"No!" I said. "We have a plan. We're ready to go! Armies don't vote!"

"They do now!" said Jastrow.

"But not in times of war! Is there anyone who needs to vote?"

"Yeah, I want to go over this war plan again-"

"Oh, terrific! There goes the revolution! Let's have a parliamentary battle instead. Wait a minute, I've got a copy of Robert's Rules of Order here-"

"McCarthy, shut up! You're an a.s.shole!"

"Yeah? Then why are you the one who's giving us s.h.i.t?"

"Hey, wait a minute-we're being distracted from our goal by this! We're forgetting who the real enemy is." Hank Chelsea stepped between us. "Now, look, we've got a plan. Let's do it! All right?"

Jastrow looked at Chelsea's proffered hand skeptically. "I don't like this-"

"Aw, come on, Paul," said Mariette and Janice, and then everybody else said it too, and Paul looked embarra.s.sed and shrugged and said, "All right," and we went and invaded Mr. Whitlaw's Global Ethics course.

He was ready for us.

All the desks had been piled up to form a barricade across half the room. The kingdom of Myopia had built a Maginot Line. We stopped and looked at each other.

"I've heard of paranoia, but this is crazy!" said Janice. "Yeah. Well, I told you it wouldn't work," growled Paul. "Now what do we do?" said Mariette.

We stood there exchanging glances. "Can we pull it down?"

"We could try," I said. "But I don't think that's the way we're supposed to solve this problem."

"Okay, Mr. Megabyte," said Paul Jastrow. "What's your solution?"

"I don't have one. I just said, I didn't think the physical way is the answer. I think we're supposed to use our brains here." I shut up then. I realized I was looking straight through the barrier at Whitlaw. He was making notes on a clipboard, but he had paused and was looking at me with a slight smile. "Um . . ." I tried to continue, but my train of thought had disappeared. "Let's have a conference. In the hallway. I think I have an idea."

We trooped out to the hall. I said, "I think we should go in and try to negotiate a peace treaty."

"He's not going to negotiate with us."

"Yes, he is." I said.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because they can't get out of there unless they do. We have the side of the room with the doors. I don't think they're going to want to climb out of a third-story window."

There was a moment of appreciative silence. You could almost hear the smiles spreading.

"Yeah, let's go. Who's got a handkerchief? We need a white flag-"

We trooped back in and announced, "We come in peace. We want to negotiate a settlement."

"Why should I? You're a bunch of radicals and subversives who were thrown out of the system because you wouldn't cooperate with it."

"The system doesn't work," said Janice. "We want a better one."