rm's length, use different
terminology to say much the same thing. It need not be confusing, if
one digs below to find reality. Perhaps, for a moment, we four can
lower barriers enough for me to explain that whilst in the West-world
you hold your fracases to"--he began enumerating on his fingers--"One,
settle disputes between business competitors, or between corporations
and unions. Two, to train soldiers for your defense requirements.
Three, to keep bemused a potentially dangerous lower class...."

"I object to that, colonel," one of the lieutenants said hotly.

The Sov officer ignored him. "Four, to dispose of the more aggressive
potential rebels, by allowing them to kill each other off in the
continual combat."

"That, sir, is simply not true," the lieutenant blurted. Joe couldn't
remember if he was Andersen or Dickson, even their names were similar.

Joe said, evenly, "And your alternative?"

The Hungarian shrugged. "The Proletarian Paradise maintains two
armies, major. One of veterans, for defense against potential foreign
foes, and named the Glorious Invincible Red Army--"

"Or, the Red Army, for short," one of the lieutenants murmured dryly.

"... And the other composed of less experienced proletarians and their
techno-intellectual, and sometimes even Party, officers. This is our
Pink Army."

"Wait a moment," Joe said. "What's a proletarian?"

The lieutenant who had protested the Sov officer's summation of the
reasons for the West-world fracases, laughed dryly.

Kossuth stared at Joe. "You _are_ poorly founded in the background of
the Sov-world, major."

Joe said, "Deliberately, Colonel Kossuth. When I learned of my
assignment, I deliberately avoided cramming unsifted information. I
decided it would be more desirable to get my information at the
source, uncontaminated by our own West-world propaganda."

[Illustration]

One of the stiff-necked twins, both of whom Joe was beginning to find
a bit _too_ stereotyped West-world adherents, said, "Sir, I must
protest. The West does not utilize propaganda."

"Of course not," Kossuth said, taking his turn at a dry tone. He said
to Joe, "I admire your decision. Obviously, a correct one. Major, a
proletarian is, well, you could say, ah--"

"A Low-Lower," Andersen or Dickson said.

"Not exactly," the Sov protested. "Let us put it this way. Marx once
wrote that when true Socialism had arrived, the formula would be from
each according to his abilities and to