Chapter 3 Saturday

The alarm went off at 6AM sharp. It did so seven days a week. As Joshua did not have a job to go to, week-days or week-ends were all the same. But he got up at 6AM regardless. He felt it built discipline. With his wealth, he didn't have to work, and money bought time. However for Joshua it bought too much time. He would dearly love to have a job; not a menial job of course, but one with authority. It would be good to be a general, or better still, a field marshal.

Joshua swung out of bed. This week-end, he had a lot to do. First though, he'd catch up on his diary. He donned a robe, sat at his desk, and proceeded to write in his calf-bound pocket journal. He documented yesterday's rehearsal but when he came to his treatment of Mickey, he paused. It was horrible what he did to that kid, but was it justified? Yes. For the greater good, he had to do what he did, but why did he enjoy it. Joshua wondered if he were a good man or not. He twiddled the pen in his fingers. 'Good or bad'. What a strange concept. It clearly depended on who was asking. Whether you're good or bad is up to the historians, the victors. But you could only be good or bad if you had beliefs. He had beliefs, not the majority beliefs of course. There was virtue in being in the minority.

Joshua cursed his introspection. It made him feel like merely an observer of his own life. He had things to do, and he was going to go do them.

First, he had to buy some expedition gear; pack, sleeping bag, dress khakis and dress whites, canteen. Joshua ticked off the items in his mind. He didn't need binoculars. He had those. As for the side arm, he supposed it would be the 9 millimeter Lugar, but he'd wait until he saw how it looked with dress khakis before making a final decision.

Joshua phoned for a cab and got dressed. He skipped breakfast of course. He always did. As he lived alone and didn't have the patience to cook, he ate all his meals out.

The cab dropped him at an up-scale store catering to wealthy, week-end fishermen and hunters. Joshua bought what he needed, but he hated it there. The store was for people with money and time, but little else. Joshua knew that until recently, he would have been in that category. Now though, he had a mission, and these dilettantes trying to act knowledgeable with the clerks made him sick. Joshua paid the extra money for an iron-clad guarantee that the gear would be delivered on Monday morning. Actually, he paid with plastic. All his bills went straight to his lawyer. He never paid for anything himself. The lawyer, his father's lawyer until the old man died, had handled his expenses this way ever since he was in college.

Next, he had to go to his barber. He went every two weeks and it was mixed pleasure. It was good to be able to share his ideas with someone, even someone who forgot them from one visit to the next, but Joshua hated to be under someone else's control. It reminded him of when he was seven and down with a serious illness. His doctors had total control of his life and did not exercise it well.

"I'm sorry you had to wait, but you are a few days early, Mr. Cave," said the Barber, "All these people are an example of the overpopulation you always talk about."

Joshua sat down in the chair. "It's no laughing matter. The population of the world is growing out of control."

"Yes," said the barber, (clip, clip).

"and the real problem is," said Joshua, "that the ignorant breed much faster than the intelligent. That's bound to weaken the gene pool."

"Yes, that's true." (clip, clip)

"You know, the future of humanity hinges on stopping the lower classes from out reproducing the more highly educated. We've got to stop it."

"I see. How would you manage that?" (clip, clip, clip)

"I don't know. Maybe war, or famine, or plague. Our government should do something about it, but none of our elected, so-called, leaders in congress have the courage."

"Perhaps you should run for the Senate, Mr. Cave." (clip, clip)

"I have money, but not that much money," said Joshua. "I tried running for the House once though?"

"Oh." (clip, clip)

"but my opponent distorted my ideas about overpopulation, the pig."

"That's too bad." (clip, whisk, whisk) "