"I warn you, you're talking good Marxism," said Culquhoun with a grin. "The means of production determine the type of society."
"Which is pure hogwash," answered Arch. "Egypt and Assyria had identical technologies. So did Athens and Sparta. So do America and Russia. The means of production only determine the possible societies, and there are always many possibilities.
"I'd like to see the possibility of individualism available again to the American people. If they're too far gone to accept it, to hell with them."
The government can work fast when it wants to. It was just the following afternoon when the phone rang again. Elizabeth came out to the lab, where Arch and Bob Culquhoun were preparing a batch of capacitite, with a strained look on her face. "Come inside, dear," she said thinly. "I've got some bad news." When he was in the house, she added: "Two FBI men are on their way here."
"What the devil?" Arch felt a gulp of fear. It was irrational he told himself. The FBI was no Gestapo; on the whole, he approved of it. Maybe some friend had given his name as a security reference. "All right. We'll see what they want."
"I'm going to start some coffee," said Elizabeth. "Lucky we've got a cake too."
"Huh?"
"You'll see." She patted his cheek and managed a smile. "You're too innocent, sweetheart."
Sagdahl and Horrisford turned out to be hard young men with carefully expressionless faces. They introduced themselves very politely, and Arch led the way into the living room. Horrisford took out a notebook.