The screen was wild with excitement. Faces blinked on and off; scenes shifted with bewildering rapidity. The history of Verrick's ten years was shown: shots of the massive, thick-browed ex-Quizmaster and summaries of what he had accomplished. And vague reports on Cartwright.
He laughed in a nervous aside that made the others start. Nothing was known about him, only that he was somehow connected with the Preston Society. The newsmachines had dug up as much as possible on the Society: it wasn't much. The story of John Preston himself, of the frail man creeping from the Information Libraries to the observatories, writing his books, collecting facts, arguing futilely. Finally, death in obscurity. The first meeting of the Society. The printing of Preston's half-crazy, half-prophetic books...
That was all they knew (he hoped). Cartwright kept his eyes on the screen.
He was now the supreme power in the nine-planet system. Quizmaster, surrounded by a telepathic Corps, with a vast army and warfleet and police force at his disposal. He was unopposed administrator of the whole structure, of the vast apparatus of classification, Quizzes and lotteries and training schools.
On the other hand, there were the five Hills, the industrial framework that supported the social and political system.
"How far did Verrick get?" he asked Major Shaeffer.
"He did fairly well. By August he would have eliminated most of the things he wanted eliminated."
"Where is Verrick now?"
"He left Batavia for the Chemie Hill, where he's strongest. He'll operate from there; we got some of his plans."