take over."

She shook her head in despair at him. "That's the point the others were
trying to make to you. We have no intention of taking over. We don't
want to and probably couldn't even if we did want to. What we're
advocating is a new type of government based on a new type of
representation."

He noticed the faint touch of freckles about her nose, her shoulders--to
the extent her dress revealed them--and on her arms. Her skin was fair
as only the northern races produce.

Paul said, "All right. Now we get to this third base of government. The
first was the family, the second was property. What else is there?"

"In an ultramodern, industrialized society, there is your method of
making your livelihood. In the future you will be represented from where
you work. From your industry or profession. The parliament, or congress,
of the nation would consist of elected members from each branch of
production, distribution, communication, education, medicine--"

"Syndicalism," Paul said, "with some touches of Technocracy."

She shrugged. "Your American Technocracy of the 1930s I am not too
familiar with, although I understand power came from top to bottom,
rather than from bottom to top, democratically. The early syndicalists
developed some of the ideas which later thinkers have elaborated upon, I
suppose. So many of these terms have become all but meaningless through
sloppy use. What in the world does Socialism mean, for instance?
According to some, your Roosevelt was a Socialist. Hitler called himself
a National Socialist. Mussolini once edited a Socialist paper. Stalin
called himself a Socialist and the British currently have a Socialist
government--mind you, with a Queen on the throne."

"The advantage of voting from where you work rather than from where you
live doesn't come home to me," Paul said.

"Among other things, a person knows the qualifications of the people
with whom he works," Ana said, "whether he is a scientist in a
laboratory or a technician in an automated factory. But how many people
actually know anything about the political candidates for whom they
vote?"

"I suppose we could discuss this all day," Paul said. "But what I was
getting to is what happens when your outfit takes over here in
Leningrad? Does Leonid become local commissar, or head of police, or ...
well, whatever new title you've dreamed up?"

Ana laughed at him, as though he was impossible. "Mr. Koslov, you have a
mind hard to penetr