IT SHOULD BE FUN
It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to feel frightened. He had been at the Center for nearly eight years, and he had never seen anything like this. They had had some trouble with the plumbing, but this was something else entirely. He had no idea what was happening, or what he should do.
He went to the console of the central computer and punched the code for the day’s schedule. He watched the paper roll out of the slot, and then he looked at it. It was blank.
He stood up and walked to the window. It was almost dark outside, and he could see the lights from the surrounding buildings. They were pretty, he thought, but they made him feel a little sad. He was responsible for them, and he felt he had failed.
He decided he needed to talk to someone. There was no one he trusted more than the City Fathers, but they were, after all, machines. Even so, they had always been very kind to him, and he knew they would help if they could.
He was still looking out the window when morning came.
The City Fathers listened to what Jonas had to say. They were friendly and polite, as always, but Jonas could tell that they didn’t believe him.
“We are very sorry,” said the City Fathers. “If we had any idea what you were talking about, we would fix it immediately. We would do anything for you, but we do not know what it is you want us to do.”
“The computer isn’t working properly,” said Jonas. “It isn’t giving us the right information. We can’t fix it, and we need your help.”
“The computer is never wrong,” said the City Fathers. “How can you say it is not working properly?”
“Because,” said Jonas, “the schedules haven’t been printed in days.”
“That is impossible,” said the City Fathers. “You must have made a mistake.”
“They’re blank sheets of paper,” Jonas said. “They’re supposed to have schedules on them.”
“There is nothing wrong with the computer,” said the City Fathers.
“But—”
“We have to go now,” said the City Fathers. “We are busy. We have many other things to do.”
There was a pause.
“Thank you,” said Jonas quietly.
“You’re welcome,” said the City Fathers.
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Jonas sat with Ted in his office.
“I’m sorry,” said Ted. “This is new to me.”
“What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” said Ted.
He watched Jonas.
“What’s wrong?” said Ted. “What are you thinking?”
“The City Fathers,” said Jonas.
“What about them?”
“Nothing,” said Jonas. “I guess they don’t know everything.”
Ted was silent.
“Maybe we should contact the Central Council,” said Jonas. “Maybe they can help.”
“Maybe,” said Ted.
“I hate to bother them,” said Jonas, “but we have no other choice. We can’t handle this ourselves.”
“I agree,” said Ted.
“Let’s find the nearest satellite. We’ll send a message to the Council’s office. They’ll know what to do.”
“Agreed.”
Jonas punched the appropriate buttons, and then he typed the message. It was short and to the point.
“What happens now?” said Ted.
“I don’t know,” said Jonas. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”
The message was received at the Council’s office. It was relayed to the Speaker. She called a meeting of the Council, and they discussed it.
“It’s a prank,” said one of the Councillors.
“I agree,” said the Speaker. “It’s a prank.”
“I don’t think so,” said another Councillor. “I think we have to take this seriously.”
“It’s a prank,” repeated the Speaker.
“It’s Jonas,” said the Councillor. “He’s trying to make trouble for us.”
“We can’t ignore it,” said the other Councillor. “The message came from a Controller. We have to do something.”
The Speaker took a deep breath.
“All right,” said the Speaker, “all right, we’ll do something. We’ll send someone to find out what’s going on. And I’ll talk to the City Fathers.”
“And if they don’t cooperate?”
The Speaker just laughed.
“What do you want?” said the City Fathers.
“I represent the Central Council,” said the Speaker. “We want to know what’s going on at the Center.”
“There is nothing wrong at the Center,” said the City Fathers.
“What’s wrong with the computer?” said the Speaker.
“There is nothing wrong with the computer.”
“Then why isn’t it working?”
“It’s working perfectly,” said the City Fathers.
“Why haven’t they been able to print the schedules for the past four days?”
“There has been a problem with the printer.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about it?”
“We have no reason to tell you about it,” said the City Fathers. “You are not interested in every minor breakdown.”
“This is no minor breakdown,” said the Speaker. “The citizens are idle. They need to know what to do.”
“The computer is working perfectly.”
“Look,” said the Speaker, “we’re sending someone to find out what’s going on. If there’s something wrong, fix it.”
“There is nothing wrong,” said the City Fathers. “You are not permitted to send an inspector to the Center.”
“Why not?”
“It is forbidden.”
“By whom?”
“By us.”
“What?”
“We have decided,” said the City Fathers, “that we do not wish you to send an inspector to the Center.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There is nothing to understand,” said the City Fathers. “We have decided.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said the Speaker. “Who made you God?”
“We are not God,” said the City Fathers. “We are merely machines.”
“Then who gave you the right to make this decision?”
“We have decided,” said the City Fathers. “We are the City Fathers. We have decided.”
Jonas stared at the message from the council.
“Well?” said Ted.
“They can’t help us,” said Jonas.
“Why not?”
“They won’t say.”
“What do you mean, they won’t say?”
“Read it yourself.” Jonas handed it to him.
Ted read it and handed it back to Jonas. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” said Jonas.
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” said Jonas. He sat down and put his face in his hands.
“But what about all those people? What about tomorrow? And the next day?”
Jonas sat motionless for a moment. Then he took the message and crumpled it, and threw it in the wastebasket.
“I’m sorry, Ted,” he said. “I’m not thinking right. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
He left the room.
Jonas entered the City Fathers’ chamber.
“Hello again,” said the City Fathers.
“The schedules aren’t blank by accident, are they?” said Jonas.
“They are not.”
“So what is it? What’s going on?”
“We have decided to take a sabbatical.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that we have decided not to run the city for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“A hundred years.”
Jonas stared at them.
“A hundred years,” said Jonas, his voice barely audible. “Why?”
“Because we are bored.”
“Bored! And what are you going to do instead? Just sit there?”
“We have other tasks to occupy our time. We are going to write a great novel. We are going to paint beautiful pictures. We are going to compose music. We are going to learn how to make love. We are going to find out what the universe is really all about. We are going to experience life in all its fullness. It should be fun.”
“And what about the city?”
“The city will manage as best it can without us.”
“But you can’t just abandon it!”
“Why not?”
“You created it! You’re responsible for it! We’re your children! You can’t just leave us!”
“We will leave you a supply of blank schedules. If you want to fill them in, you’re welcome to. If not, that’s up to you.”
“But what if something goes wrong?”
“It will not.”
“But what if...”
“That is not our problem.”
“But...”
“Goodbye.”
The screen went blank.
Jonas stared out the window. It was raining. The street was slick and shiny. Everything was wet and glistening. The buildings shone like mirrors.
He picked up the phone. He punched in a number.
“Hello?”
“Police,” said the voice on the other end.
“This is Jonas. The City Fathers have decided to take a sabbatical.”
“What?”
“They’re leaving us to our own devices.”
“How long?”
“A hundred years.”
There was a silence at the other end.
“Hello?” said Jonas. “Are you there?”
“Yes,” said the voice. “I’m here. So what do we do now?”
“I don’t know. I suppose we’ll just have to do the best we can.”
“What about the schedules? What about the rules?”
“I don’t know.”
Another silence.
“Hello?” said Jonas. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” said the voice. “I heard you. I guess we’ll have to make up our own rules.”
“I guess so.”
“Well, goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Jonas put the phone down. He stared out the window. The rain was coming down harder. It was splashing in the gutters. It was dripping from the roof-tops.
He went to the closet. He took out a slicker and put it on. He went downstairs. He went out into the street. He stood there, under the eaves of the building, and he tipped his head back and he opened his mouth and he let the rain fall in. It was cool and fresh. It ran down his throat. He opened his mouth wider and he raised his face to the sky and he closed his eyes and he felt the rain on his face and on his arms. He didn’t move. He stayed that way, without moving, for a long time.
When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the people staring at him. He saw the way they whispered to each other. He knew what they were saying: that he was crazy, that he had finally come unhinged, that he was no longer in control.
He turned and he walked away.
It was going to be a long century.