Snow was coming down thick and fast in Jokkmokk, Sweden, and the people waiting in the lineup at the town hall doors were increasingly loud in their disapproval of Stefan Sonberg, mayor and governor of the Jokkmokk district.
"It's now over half an hour," a man announced, after glancing at his watch.
"What the hell are they doing in there? It shouldn't take more than a few minutes!"
"They are good pals, those two," said a woman in a fake leopard fur coat who was the third in line. "The mayor is very good friends with a career criminal. I, for one, will not be voting for him in the next election."
"You'd better keep quiet," the man in front of her advised. "He might not be the mayor any more, but he'll still be the governor."
"What do you mean? One goes with the other!"
"No it doesn't. Governors aren't elected, they're nominated. He became governor by default because everything was done in such a rush. But he'll stay on as governor even if he ceases to be the mayor. He'll be the governor here until the governor over him decides otherwise."
"But this is totally undemocratic!"
"Welcome to the colonial world," said the man.
"I'm going to start a petition to the regional governor to have Sonberg removed from his post. Who is the regional governor?"
"I don't know. And I wouldn't ask Sonberg if I were you. He might take it the wrong way."
"This is outrageous," said the woman in the fake fur coat. Her outrage was doubled by the fact that the falling snow flakes clung to the fur, and obscured the splendor of the leopard spots. She kept brushing the snow off until she realized it made her appear undignified.
"This is completely outrageous," she repeated.
Her sentiments were shared by Sven Holm, who was locked in a bitter battle of wills with Stefan Sonberg.
"This is outrageous," he told Sonberg. "You promised me two hundred licenses. You told me I'd be need to buy twenty colonizer licenses, because each entitles a colonizer only to a maximum of ten colonist licenses. Three million eight hundred thousand crowns! It wasn't easy to get all this money together. But I did it. I got it here. And now you're saying I can only get a single colonizer's license!"
"I already told you twice," said Sonberg. "It's not my decision. It came down all the way from above. You want to change it, you'll have to go to New York, and convince the Colonial Council that you're right and they're wrong."
"I must have those licenses," Holm snapped. "Otherwise, I'll have to rethink the other deal we made."
The deal he was referring to was his promise to pay the tax on his mint with food imported from the New World. Jokkmokk had ten thousand inhabitants, and whatever food Holm supplied wouldn't be more than a drop in the bucket. But it was a very important drop, because it gave the hungry Jokkmokk citizens hope. It made them believe colonizing the New World would solve their Old World problems.
Sonberg was very much aware of that. Even a trickle of New World food would make a huge difference - the difference between a peaceful town and a hotbed of unrest and violence. He said:
"Sven, be reasonable. I told you how it works. I have instructions to issue just a single colonizer's licence per no less than four square kilometers of my territory here. That's four hundred in the New World, enough for a colony of decent size. Based on that, I can issue a maximum of sixteen licenses. Sixteen! And you want twenty just for yourself. Can't you see that's impossible?"
Holm snorted derisively, but remained silent otherwise. Sensing an advantage, Sonberg continued:
"I would fiddle things to accommodate you if I could. But I can't. The powers that be are watching my every move. Someone told them there was a cube on your farm. And I'd reported that the only cube in my area was the one south of Vajmat. They're also upset with me because I haven't set up a proper capital in the New World."
"What the hell does that mean?" said Holm.
"I don't like the New World, Sven. It's just too uncomfortable. So I hired a couple of deputies to run things and they, well, they didn't do a very good job. See, I'm being totally honest with you."
Sven Holm sighed, and said:
"So I'm getting a single license, and that's it?"
"Yes."
"Because you only have sixteen to give?"
"Correct."
"You've got several hundred people lined up to see you, Stefan. You'll have to turn almost all of them away."
"Oh, no, that's different. Almost all of them want to purchase a colonist's license. You know, a single implant kit and no license to trade New World goods."
"I want to purchase two hundred of those."
"You can only get ten, counting the two you get with your colonizer's license."
"What if I sent a hundred and ninety people your way?" asked Sven. "You're obliged to sell each of them an implant kit - let's stop this license bullshit, what you're doing here is selling implant kits. Correct?"
"If the people you send are local residents, yes. They have the right to a single license, okay, okay! A single implant kit."
"They are all residents within your district," said Sven, fixing Sonberg with a heavy stare. "I want you to reserve a thousand kits for people I'll be sending your way."
"A thousand? What will you do with a thousand kits? A thousand colonists? That's crazy. Half of them will die within a couple of weeks."
"That's my problem. Besides, you're wrong. They won't die. They will thrive."
"But where are you going to find a thousand people who - "
"That's my business," said Sven. "Do we have a deal?"
Sonberg hesitated. It went against his nature to agree to a deal without wringing out a final concession from the other party. He said:
"You know, you've given me an extra worry the other day. Some people my deputies had sent out in the New World came across yours. And your guys weren't nice to them at all. Very threatening and intimidating. And now I have to report there are illegal colonists in my district. I have to, the word is out. And they'll want me to do something about it."
"Who exactly is 'they'?"
"My area governor, my regional governor, the provincial governor, the national governor, and the Colonial Council."
"You're joking."
"I'm not. We are to crack down very hard on illegal colonizing."
"But it's up to you what goes on in your district. You're the law."
"I am. But if my area governor doesn't like the way I'm running things, I'm gone. Just like that. Because in this area, HE is the law."
"All those words instead of telling me outright you want a favor," said Sven. "All right. What is it?"
"I... Well, I... I thought that maybe you could sell us some tools. And clothes, if possible. You know, in the New World. We've already made contact there, it seems my capital is right next to your colony. It shouldn't be hard to establish a route."
"I thought things worked the other way around," said Sven. "I thought governors were the ones helping colonists get a foothold over there."
Sonberg was silent.
"All right," said Sven. "But for obvious reasons, I can't help you for at least a year, maybe two. Two would be safer. Otherwise there'll be talk about those guys that arrived in the New World and started manufacturing metal tools practically the next day."
"A year? You mean a New World Year?"
"Of course."
"That will be the middle of April," mused Sonberg. "Okay. I might be able to work with that."
"I'll send out scouts to locate your capital," said Sven. "You'll need to give me some directions."
It was another ten minutes before they were done; the actual signing of the documents and payment took two minutes. When Sven emerged from the town hall, he was greeted by hostile stares and a muttering that resembled rumblings before an earthquake. Someone said very loud:
"Hey, asshole. What were you doing in there for so long? Giving fat Stefan a blowjob for your license?"
Sven stopped at the top of the front stairs and looked for the man who had spoken. He found him, and it wasn't someone he'd seen before. There were people coming over from all around Jokkmokk to buy a license, so it wasn't surprising. The guy in question was tall and heavily built and obviously felt his bulk made him more important. And he was from out of town, and didn't know who he was talking to.
"You're waiting to acquire a license?" Sven asked, smiling at him.
"Of course I am. Why the hell do you think I'm standing here in this fucking snow, moron. You think I like it?"
Sven smiled at him with extra warmth, and said:
"I'll remember you. See you in the New World."
He descended the stairs and walked away, surrounded by silence and the falling snow.
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