Ryan shrugged. “He’s quite the productive one. He’s got a lot of enterprise rolling. He keeps me thinking; I like the competition…,” adding, as if thinking aloud, “within reason.”
Fontaine had worked with Peach Wilkins to develop a way to do Rapture’s fishing more discreetly—underwater. A few simple adaptations to the smaller subs, refitting them to drag nets, and they had purely subaquatic fishing.
But the fishery gave Fontaine a potential access to something that Bill knew made Ryan nervous—the outside world. His subs left Rapture on business of their own—and they might be contacting anyone out there. Every year Ryan cut more ties with the surface world, liquidating his properties, selling factories and railroads.
“You think maybe Fontaine’s using the subs to bring in contraband, guv?” he asked suddenly.
“I’m monitoring that possibility. I warned him—and it seemed to me he took the warning seriously.”
“Some smuggling’s going on, Mr. Ryan,” Bill pointed out. “A Bible turned up in the workers’ quarters.”
“Bibles…” Ryan said the word with loathing. “Yes—Sullivan told me. The man says he bought it from ‘a fellow I didn’t know over to Apollo Square.’”
Bill had no love for religion himself. But privately he thought some people probably needed it as a safety valve. “All I can tell you, Mr. Ryan, is that I’ve never trusted that bugger Fontaine. He talks all silky, like—but none of it feels like real silk.”
“We can’t assume anything, you know. Come along…”
Bill sighed. Sometimes he got tired of being ‘Come Along Bill.’
An electric eye triggered the semicircular Securis door to slide open. They strode along corridors decorated with posters extolling the glories of Rapture’s commerce, down a curving stairway, to a bathysphere station where a banner declared COMMERCE, INDEPENDENCE, CREATIVITY. Ryan remained silent, brooding as they went.
Bill expected to take the Atlantic Express, but Ryan ignored the train station and continued to the Rapture Metro. They passed a party of maintenance workers who tipped their hats at Ryan. He paused and shook hands all around. “How’s it going, boys? Patching up the ceiling? Good, good … don’t forget to invest some part of your paychecks in one of Rapture’s new businesses! Keep it growing, fellas! You working for Bill here? If he isn’t treating you right—don’t tell me about it!” They laughed all around at that. “Start a competing plumbing business, give ol’ Bill here a run for his money, eh! How do you like that new park of ours, by the way. Seen it yet? Fine place to take the ladies…”
When he was in the mood, Ryan could be quite convivial, even chummy, with the workingman. He seemed almost to be performing for Bill today.
Ryan put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels as he reflected, “When I was a young boy, my father took me to a park in … well, it was in a foreign capital … the czar was still alive then, but my father’s business was faltering, and that park lifted his spirits! ‘This is where I met your mother!’ he said. So boys—if you want to meet the right young miss, we’ve got just the place! Plenty of privacy for sparking the ladies, eh?”
The workmen laughed; he clapped two of them on the shoulders, wished them a profitable day’s work, and sent them on their way. The men went away beaming—they’d be able to boast of chatting with the great Andrew Ryan.
Ryan led Bill into the waiting bathysphere. When its hatch lowered into place, Ryan tapped the selector for their destination and hit the GO lever. The bathysphere dropped neatly into its passageway and then set out horizontally with a bubbling whoosh.
The two men sat back, riding in companionable quiet till they were halfway to the nearest air lock for Arcadia, when Ryan said, “Bill—have you heard residents whining about not being permitted to leave Rapture?”
“Here and there,” Bill admitted reluctantly. He didn’t want to snitch on anyone.
“You know we cannot trust anyone outside Rapture, Bill. We’d have American intelligence agents down here, or the jackals from the KGB, fast as…” He snapped his fingers.
“It can be hard for some down here, sir. There’s some as wonder if they made the right choice immigrating to Rapture…”
“I have no respect for quitters! You don’t visit Rapture—it’s a way of life!” He shook his head bitterly. “They are spineless! They were told, before they came, that there were certain inviolable rules. No one leaves! There is no place for men like us on the surface.”
Bill was in awe of Ryan; he knew it, and Ryan knew it. But maybe it was time to give Ryan some guff about this lockdown. Because he was afraid that if Ryan stuck to this policy, it could be explosive. “It’s human nature, guv’nor, to want freedom to come and go. People get stir-crazy, like, when you pen them up. You believe a man should make a choice—but how can the poor sod choose to stay in Rapture? We took that choice away!”
“A man has thousands of choices in Rapture. But that one he gave up when he came to this world—a world that I created. I built it with money and resources earned with my sweat! It’s all a lot of absurd whining! In time we will expand Rapture across the seabed and there will be far more room to move about.” He flicked his hand in a gesture of contemptuous impatience. “They entered into a contract coming here! In the end, our choices make us what we are. A man chooses, Bill! They chose—and they must accept the responsibility.”
Bill cleared his throat. “Natural enough for some blokes to want to change their minds…”
The bathysphere reached its destination, clunking into place, and the hatch creaked open—but Ryan made no move to get out. He remained in his seat, looking at Bill with a new solemnity. “Have you changed your mind, Bill?”
Bill was taken by surprise. “No! This is my home, Mr. Ryan. I built this place with my bare hands.” He shrugged. “You asked what I’ve heard…”
Ryan looked at him for a long moment, as if peering into Bill’s soul. Finally, he nodded. “Very well, Bill. But I’ll tell you something. The residents of Rapture will be purged of the habits of ant society! They must learn to stand up beside us, like men—and build! I plan to start a new program of civic education. Banners, a great many more of them—educational announcements on televisions and public address, and billboards! I’m bringing in someone to help us train them to see that the world outside Rapture is the real prison … and Rapture is the real freedom.” Ryan climbed out of the bathysphere. “Come along, Bill. Come along…”
0 Comments