Read Online Polymath by John Brunner - Free Book Online

they come.”
    Heads turned in the seated crowd. Arbogast was approaching, and with him, talking volubly, tall stout Nanseltine and his florid graying wife. The captain clearly was taking no notice, just enduring what was said.
    “How did Nanseltine manage to retain so much flesh during the winter?” Jerode muttered.
    “The rest of us lost some of it by sweating it off, not just by going hungry,” Lex replied. “There’s an exception.”
    “Yes, I guess so…. Well, here we go.” Jerode sighed, and moved to welcome the captain.
    The first fuss was over chairs for the Nanseltines. Two had been set on the verandah of the headquarters hut for Arbogast and Jerode—no one objected to these two being privileged—but everyone else was agreeable to using the ground. Then people behind the chairs which were brought for the Nanseltines complained their view was blocked, and a minor argument developed. Arbogast made no attempt to quiet it, simply sat staring at nothing.
    That wasn’t altogether without advantages, Lex thought. Leaning against the corner of the hut, careful not to dislodge any of its timbers, he studied the faces of the crowd. Yes, there were factions. On the useful side, those like Cheffy, Aldric, possibly Delvia: willing to face reality and work hard. Many of them were ringed around Bendle, with pens and scraps of “paper” ready to take notes. Others were grouped close to Fritch; these were members of his building team. Not for the first time Lex was grateful for the statistical accident which had produced a majority of people under forty and yet so few children. Of course, that had been due to the season. Nine out of every ten children in Zara’s northern hemisphere had been on life-adaptation courses away from home at the time of the disaster.
    Now Naline was the baby of them all, at sixteen. Bendle’s son had been a few months younger, and there had been four infants. But they had all succumbed to a lung infection….
    Present, not past, he reminded himself sternly. On the useless side then—no, correction: the less useful side,because everyone here had to count—the Nanseltines and their cronies; you could spot them now, the ones complaining because they didn’t have chairs too or because they didn’t see why the Nanseltines should when they didn’t. Also the fawners, like Rothers, of whom a cluster centered on Nanseltine’s wife, saying of
course
MANAGER Nanseltine should have a chair.
    And in the middle of these categories, almost half the total number: category undecided.
    The arguments ended when Cheffy, with his characteristic tact, suggested moving the chairs to one side of the crowd where they would obstruct no one’s view. With a sigh of relief Jerode turned to Arbogast. An expectant hush fell.
    Slowly Arbogast drew himself to his feet. He looked dreadfully old, as though the past day had aged him fifty years. But his voice was firm, and carried across the crowd.
    He said, “Fellow… castaways! Up till now you have in a sense been—well, under my command. I have not objected. In space, and directly following our arrival, I was fitted for it, I think. But all I know is space and spaceships. On a planet’s surface, I think it better for everyone if I relinquish this unenviable position to someone suited to the new circumstances.”
    Lex looked at Nanseltine to see if he realized what was coming. Nanseltine didn’t react, but his wife did.
    The corners of Lex’s mouth turned down sharply.
Might have guessed….
    “I propose therefore,” Arbogast went on, “that this assembly should be presided over by someone we all respect and admire for his invaluable work. Dr. Jerode, will you…?”
    He made a quick flourish; then he picked up his chair and carried it to the side of the crowd distant from Nanseltine. Finally catching on, the latter looked startled—and his wife, furious. A buzz of comment rose and faded.
    Jerode looked at Lex and shrugged. He tinned and called across the