Leo Frankowski

start producing. In most cases some conventional food was
available, much of it brought in on the broad backs of LDUs, but the
“survival of the fattest” became a standing worldwide joke.
    Once there was a
reasonable probability of personal survival, a serious attempt was made to
rescue as much as possible of the world’s cultural artifacts. Countless people
crawled through crumbling museums, libraries, and laboratories to haul out and store
artworks, books, and other artifacts. Much of the world’s art and virtually all of its
literature, down to the lowliest technical manual, were thus preserved.
    Other people, with
less noble motives, sought to preserve for themselves much of the world’s wealth.
One enterprising group found
that the steel vault doors at Fort Knox had crumbled after the nearby guard
units had disbanded. They made it inside
and onto the incredible piles of
gold ingots, lying free for the taking. Then the entranceway collapsed,
sealing them in. They kept their treasure
for the rest of their lives. About three days.
    Throughout the
western hemisphere, a million LDUs worked twenty-four hours a day, seven days a
week. They
hauled grain from crumbling elevators in Chicago and fought plagues in Georgia. They
taught people in New England which wild plants were edible and built a wooden bridge across
the Hudson to evacuate Manhattan and Long Island. It returned lost children and interrupted fourteen
attempts at human sacrifice.
    The nation-state had
relied on dependable transportation and communication for its survival.
These had ceased
to exist. It had depended on economics, billions of dollars, pounds, and rubles to pay
the millions of soldiers, politicians, and tax collectors that were the governments of two
hundred nations. Economics had also ceased to exist; a paper dollar couldn’t get
you a bite to eat, but a tree house would feed you for free. The world’s
nation-states had ceased to exist.
    Founded on a
bewildering array of political, religious, and philosophical premises, new political
organizations sprang up to fill the void, an incredible hodge-podge of societies, families,
companies, cooperatives, churches, fraternities, and gangs. It was rare for any
group to have more than a thousand members.
    Slowly, painfully, a
kind of order emerged as the food trees finally bore fruit.
    Patricia and Mona had
spent every day for two months traveling in Winnie, giving food, directions, and hope to
everyone they could find in the Southwest. They had spent every other night on the
road, and they were both physically and mentally exhausted.
    “Time we took a couple of days off,
Patty,” Mona said.
    Their passengers that
trip had included Lou von Bork and Senator Beinheimer. The women had dropped
them off in one of the new suburbs, and Winnie was trotting back to Pinecroft.
    “We certainly
need it. But there’s still so much to be done,” Patricia said.
    “The worst of
it’s over. We can send out Winnie and Bolo to pick up the stragglers and bring them
in.”
    Dirk had gone with
Guibedo, and Bolo, injured by a falling building, had taken on the guard
duty.
    “Suits
me.” Winnie dropped the girls off at the front door, and trotted
downstairs again to eat.
    Of all the tree
houses in the valley, Pinecroft was the only one that had not been turned into a
hotel for refugees. Oakwood had more than fifty people living in it and the last thing
Patricia needed was another crowd.
    “Okay if I spend
the night here, Mona?”
    “Sure. Take the
guest room off the kitchen,” Mona said. “Hey. Look at that. Heinrich
made a new elevator.”
    “I’m surprised
he took the time for it,” Patricia said. “He looked so tired last time I
saw him.”
    “He should.
Between his injury and worrying about the LDUs making another mistake, he hasn’t
slept in three
months.”
    “Mistake? What
do you mean?”
    “In the early
days, the LDUs were pretty naive. They didn’t understand human value systems, and
they tended to take orders too literally. Look, I’m bushed. I’ll see you in the morning.
Take the guest room off the kitchen,”
Mona said, heading upstairs. “I’m going to sleep till noon.”
     
    The next morning
Patricia was eating breakfast alone. A nagging determination came to her.
    “Telephone,”
Patricia said.
    “Yes, my
lady,” the I/O unit answered.
    “Uh… Where’s
Martin?”
    “I’m afraid your
request is in conflict with my ‘right to privacy’ programming, my lady. He is
well,