"Get Tyko," he bellowed.
"Sorry," a robot said tonelessly. "No calls are going through till the end of the emergency."
Heydrick swore wildly. He and Ria ran through the building and out onto the huge terrace in front. The vast bowl of the city was in tumult. Fires were raging on all the lower levels, and several of the towers of the 7th level had crashed down in ruins. Mobs roared through the streets, killing, burning, and looting. It was revolution. Security police, trying to stem the outbreak, were caught in the maelstroms, overwhelmed, and submerged. The lower levels had gone mad with hate. Wildings were everywhere, organizing, leading, destroying.
Heydrick commandeered an empty flier, got Ria aboard and set the automatic pilot for Tyko's tower in West 21.
In Tyko's tower, the old man stood watching the end of the grim spectacle in the streets below. Walls of white fire moved out in ever-widening circles from the experimental domes, moved through the city, quieting the mobs, herding them back to their homes. Dead lay in windrows.
A bell rang behind him. He turned. "Oh, come in," he said. It was Thorsan, Feyjak's assistant.
"It's almost over," Tyko told him. "Order is being restored now. After this, we'll keep the Blues in power and give the people a government they can like. It's a sad thing, to govern people. Herding them about like animals. Men should be free. I'm an anarchist myself ... out of hours."
"How about my people?" Thorsan asked, an odd expression on his face.
"Your people? Oh, the Red Scientists. Don't worry. We knew this revolt was coming, even if you Reds didn't. We've had our eye on the Wildings for some time. You Reds are safe enough. When order is restored, perhaps a joint government...."