Read Online Inferno by Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle - Free Book Online
Authors: Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle
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couldn’t have improved his disposition. He had a desk like a woodcut from the Scrooge story, a tall thing he stood at. There wasn’t a chair or a stool in the room. We waited at the counter.
And waited, and waited, getting warmer and warmer, while the clerk fussed with papers on his desk. He seemed to be reading every line on an enormous form a dozen pages thick. Every now and then he used a red pencil to mark something. When he continued to turn the pages and scrawl notes without even looking at us, I pounded on the counter.
“Are we invisible?” I demanded.
“A moment, sir. Just a moment, please. We’re very shorthanded here, sir. You’ll have to wait, sir.” He made each “sir” a curse.
“You would be well advised to attend us.” Benito’s voice had that edge to it, a note of warning. The clerk looked around uneasily. He obviously didn’t recognize either of us. Hardly surprising.
“Your papers, please.”
“We have none,” Benito answered.
“Oh my, oh my, one of these days,” the clerk muttered. “Well, if you haven’t any papers, you can’t come in. The rules are very strict. You’ll have to go back for papers.” He turned back to his desk and started looking over the files on it.
“We have an errand inside,” Benito said. “You do not help your records by delaying us.”
The clerk looked back nervously. He examined us closely again, noting the slime on our gowns and the stench of our sandals. That seemed to cheer him. “What is your station inside?” he asked.
“No fixed post,” Benito answered.
“I can’t help you, sir. I’m only record-keeper for the Sixth Circle. Next window, please.” He turned back to his desk. We waited. Benito whistled something monotonous. Finally the clerk turned back. “You still here, sir? I told you, next window, please.”
“It is to the Sixth Circle that we must go now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me,” the clerk complained. “Very well.” He reached into a cabinet and produced what looked like manuscript books and short stubs of pencil. “If you don’t have the proper papers, you’ll have to fill out these forms.”
They were twenty pages long, covered with small blanks, and there were nine copies. Not only wasn’t there any carbon paper, but the blanks were arranged differently on each copy, although they all asked for the same information.
“I think we will not bother,” Benito said.
I flared up. “What the hell do you want all this for? Great-grandmother’s blood type! Why should I fill this out?”
“You have to.” The clerk was getting more and more irritated. “You can see they’re all blank. You can see they have to be filled out. Right at the top, see, it says, ‘Replacement for lost papers, application for, D-345t-839y-4583, to be submitted in nine copies.’ I can’t do anything for you without that information.”
“Aren’t there exceptions?”
“Of course there are exceptions, sir . One was made over two thousand years ago. Before my time, but they still talk about it.” He shuddered. “But you are obviously not Him. Is either of you a living man? Can either of you summon angels? Those are in the book too.” He glanced at the shelf of loose-leaf folios above his desk. “Volume sixty-one, page eight ninety-four, paragraph seventy-seven, point eighty-two—I’m glad we changed to the decimal system, but most of us didn’t like it—it says very plainly, anyone who can summon angels may pass. But if you’re applying under that ruling you’ll have to go to the main gate. Don’t prove you can do it. Just go to the main gate, and they’ll take care of you.”
“But you will not let us pass,” Benito said. “Not even if I tell you that if you do not you will be in grave trouble?”
“I know my duty. You will not come through.”
“Very good. You have done well,” Benito said. “If you had let us in, we would have reported it. Now you have a favorable report coming. Who is your
And waited, and waited, getting warmer and warmer, while the clerk fussed with papers on his desk. He seemed to be reading every line on an enormous form a dozen pages thick. Every now and then he used a red pencil to mark something. When he continued to turn the pages and scrawl notes without even looking at us, I pounded on the counter.
“Are we invisible?” I demanded.
“A moment, sir. Just a moment, please. We’re very shorthanded here, sir. You’ll have to wait, sir.” He made each “sir” a curse.
“You would be well advised to attend us.” Benito’s voice had that edge to it, a note of warning. The clerk looked around uneasily. He obviously didn’t recognize either of us. Hardly surprising.
“Your papers, please.”
“We have none,” Benito answered.
“Oh my, oh my, one of these days,” the clerk muttered. “Well, if you haven’t any papers, you can’t come in. The rules are very strict. You’ll have to go back for papers.” He turned back to his desk and started looking over the files on it.
“We have an errand inside,” Benito said. “You do not help your records by delaying us.”
The clerk looked back nervously. He examined us closely again, noting the slime on our gowns and the stench of our sandals. That seemed to cheer him. “What is your station inside?” he asked.
“No fixed post,” Benito answered.
“I can’t help you, sir. I’m only record-keeper for the Sixth Circle. Next window, please.” He turned back to his desk. We waited. Benito whistled something monotonous. Finally the clerk turned back. “You still here, sir? I told you, next window, please.”
“It is to the Sixth Circle that we must go now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me,” the clerk complained. “Very well.” He reached into a cabinet and produced what looked like manuscript books and short stubs of pencil. “If you don’t have the proper papers, you’ll have to fill out these forms.”
They were twenty pages long, covered with small blanks, and there were nine copies. Not only wasn’t there any carbon paper, but the blanks were arranged differently on each copy, although they all asked for the same information.
“I think we will not bother,” Benito said.
I flared up. “What the hell do you want all this for? Great-grandmother’s blood type! Why should I fill this out?”
“You have to.” The clerk was getting more and more irritated. “You can see they’re all blank. You can see they have to be filled out. Right at the top, see, it says, ‘Replacement for lost papers, application for, D-345t-839y-4583, to be submitted in nine copies.’ I can’t do anything for you without that information.”
“Aren’t there exceptions?”
“Of course there are exceptions, sir . One was made over two thousand years ago. Before my time, but they still talk about it.” He shuddered. “But you are obviously not Him. Is either of you a living man? Can either of you summon angels? Those are in the book too.” He glanced at the shelf of loose-leaf folios above his desk. “Volume sixty-one, page eight ninety-four, paragraph seventy-seven, point eighty-two—I’m glad we changed to the decimal system, but most of us didn’t like it—it says very plainly, anyone who can summon angels may pass. But if you’re applying under that ruling you’ll have to go to the main gate. Don’t prove you can do it. Just go to the main gate, and they’ll take care of you.”
“But you will not let us pass,” Benito said. “Not even if I tell you that if you do not you will be in grave trouble?”
“I know my duty. You will not come through.”
“Very good. You have done well,” Benito said. “If you had let us in, we would have reported it. Now you have a favorable report coming. Who is your
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