"So the next day, I did just a little bit more. Spent an extra fifteen minutes doing something I didn't have to do. Cleaned some old windows that hadn't been washed since Ronald Reagan was president. I found it was easy to give that extra five percent.
"It turned into a game. The next day, I gave another five percent. I was compounding my interest, to use an old phrase. In tiny little baby steps I was turning into a real dynamo. Jim Touchet, the guy who leaned his bike against a tree for a two-hour lunch, who always rode home on his route faster than he ever rode it while patrolling, was trying extra hard even when no one was looking.
"Vern was real happy with me. After a month, I took the job of his assistant. Within a year, I was old Vern's supervisor. I always gave that extra five percent no one else was giving. I always did more than my boss, and usually within two years I had his job.
"I said the same words to people under me. I asked for an extra five percent. That's all. An extra five percent, when you have a whole bunch of people doing it, can turn things around.
"Before I knew it, they were calling me 'Midas' Touchet. Everything I turned my hand to seemed to turn to gold. Me, the guy who never learned his multiplication tables as a kid, who couldn't stay upright on his bike, went from shit-shoveler to production senior supervisor. I'm responsible for farms from Rockford to Mount Vernon, Illinois. I answer to the Illinois Eleven. You think you have tough quotas? What are they called up here, reckonings? I've seen the figures; the Illinois Eleven are a lot more demanding than your Triumvirate up in Madison. And last year, we were over production. I know what you're thinking; we broke quota by five percent, right? Wrong. We doubled the quota. That's right, doubled. The New Universal Church is handing out brass rings to my best people like lemon drops. See mine?" Touchet asked, holding up his hand. The coppery-gold ring glinted on his thick pinkie. He passed it through his oiled hair, removed it, and flicked it into the crowd before the platform. A woman caught it, screamed, and almost fainted into her husband's arms.
"Oh my God, oh my God," she blubbered, shoving it onto her thumb as the audience gaped.
"It's no big deal, that ring. I'll get another one this fall. Not that I need it. If I could have your attention back, I'll let you in on a secret. I've already given you one secret, the secret of the extra five percent. I'm a generous man. I'll give you a twofer.
"The secret is that you don't need a brass ring. That's the beauty of the New Universal Order," he said, lowering his voice.
Valentine looked around, trying to shake the feeling of being almost as hypnotized as the young Mr. Sonderberg.
"All the Order demands is production. Efficiency. Good old hard work. The things that made this country great before the social scientists and lawyers took over. I see some old-timers out in the audience. How was it when the lawyers ran the show? Did they make things more efficient, or less?"
"Are you kidding? Anytime lawyers got involved, things got cocked-up," one old man shouted.
Touchet nodded happily. "In the old Order, how far you went depended on going to the right school. Getting the right job. Having the right degree. Living on the right side of the tracks. Being the right color. Ten percent of the people owned ninety percent of the wealth. Anyone want to disagree?"
No one did.
"And not just the society was sick. The planet was sick too. Pollution, toxic waste, nuclear contamination. We were like fruit flies in a sealed jar with an apple core. Ever done that little experiment? Put a couple flies in with some food, knock some tiny holes in the lid, and watch what happens. They eat and breed, eat and breed. Pretty soon you'll have ajar filled with dead fruit flies. Mankind removed every form of natural selection. The weak, stupid, and useless were breeding just as fast as the successful. That isn't in nature's plan. And there's only one penalty for a species that breaks the laws of Mother Nature.
"Now you can drink out of any river, and you fishermen know the streams are full of fish again. The air is clean. It sounds crazy to say, but I'm one of the people who believes the Kurians were a godsend. The scale is back in balance. We're a better people for it. The Kurians have winnowed out the useless mouths. They don't play favorites; they don't make exceptions. They keep the strong and productive and take the slackers."
A few, perhaps surprisingly few, murmured disagreement.
"I'm not asking you to agree with me. Just hear me out and go home and think about it. And do one more thing. Think about how you can give that extra five percent. I know you all work hard. But I bet each of you can do what I did: figure out some way to do another five percent. You'll feel better about yourself, and your life will be more secure. Like me, you'll find you've got a brass ring in your pocket and not even need it because you're going the extra mile. How many of you slaughter your best milker for steaks? None, right? The Kurians are the same way. They're here, they're staying, and we've got to make the best of it.
"You've heard my story. You know I wasn't born special. No great brain, not much drive. Not even good-looking. But I've got a beautiful house-I've got pictures if any of you want to see it afterwards-a real gasoline car, and a nice house picked out down south for when I retire. So I guess that brass ring is worth something after all. Napoleon used to say that every private of his carried a marshal's baton in his knapsack. Each of you should carry a brass ring in your pocket.
You can do it. Any of you out there spend ten hours a day shoveling shit? No? Then you've all got the jump on me. You're already way ahead of where I was when I decided to give that extra five percent. Whether you're sixteen or sixty, you can do what I did, believe me. Give the extra five, and it'll happen to you, too.
"Now, before I leave for the flatlands, as you call my home, I gotta do the usual recruitment drive. We're looking for young men and women, seventeen to thirty, who want to take some responsibility for public order and safety. I won't give the usual gung-ho speech or list all the perks: You know them better than I do. I will guarantee that you won't be mounted on a bicycle with no rubber on the tires. And don't forget, even if you go to boot camp and flunk out, you still get your one-year bond, no matter what. So who's going to be the first to come up on stage and get the bond? Okay, moms and dads, aunts and uncles, now's your chance to tell those kids to come up and get the bond."
Valentine listened to the forced applause as a few youths took to the main stage, then joined in. It seemed safest to do what everyone else was doing. He wondered how many in the audience believed the story, and how many were just going along to get along.
Touchet shook hands with the bishop who'd introduced him. The bishop patted his back and said something in his ear. Touchet returned to the microphone.
"Before you leave, I have a couple of announcements. The Triumvirate has changed your quotas, or reckoning, I mean. They'll be discussed individually with you by your local commissary officials."
The audience knew better than to groan at the news, but they did quiet down and stop filing out of the aisles.
"On the good news side, there's an exciting announcement from the New Universal Church and the Madison Triumvirate. Any couple that produces ten or more children in their lifetime automatically wins the brass ring."
Valentine and Molly Carlson exchanged a significant look, and she tweaked up the corner of her mouth at him.
"The New Order recognizes the importance of motherhood and family life," the snake oil salesman continued, "and wants to get the northern part of the state repopulated. Any children already born to the family count, so you big families with five or six children are already well on your way to the brass ring."
Some more applause broke out, probably from the bigger families.
"And finally, we've had some problems with insurgents and spies recently. The standard reward of a two-year bond has been upped to a ten-year bond in exchange for information leading to the capture of any undocumented trespassers in the Triumvirate's lands. Thank you for your cooperation."
"Thank you for your cooperation," Molly whispered. "Now go home and start making babies. God knows what you're going to feed them, since they are upping the reckoning."