Summary

C. M. Kornbluth The Psychological Regulator

The day that Clark Stevens dies I shall rest from my labors, but until then it must and shall be my only thought—and not mine alone but all the people in the city. And those who say otherwise shall be crushed!"
Winters stared him in the eye. "If you're not mad," he said, "you're giving a very accurate imitation of megalomania. But, for the sake of the record, I assure you that I shall never be a Rightman, and that many others have told me the same. Alfreed, you'll never get a majority in any election, so why continue a futile opposition?"
Source: Gutenberg

C. M. Kornbluth The Psychological Regulator

At one time, I thought you were all fit for scrapping, but now I see that the city needs you as much as it does me. I think that's the answer: we need all kinds of people; no one kind can be permitted to dominate, but no one kind can be suppressed, either."
"Of course," said Markett. "After that one big burst of violent battle, you worked the ego of Roald the Viking almost completely out of your psychology. Only the part that I like, that I love, is left—and I think that will stay put."
Stevens reached out and took her hand.
Source: Gutenberg

C. M. Kornbluth The Psychological Regulator

He clenched his right fist, and felt the hilt of Al Azaaf, his scimitar. Slowly Roald stood up from the grass and settled his greaves about his thighs. "Rouse up, sons of Yggdrasil," he hissed fiercely, and his men—his terrible Norse, scourge of the coast—appeared from bushes and brakes, drawing axes from belts and fitting pikes to shafts.
"Seventy-and-nine of us there be," growled Roald without preamble, "and of them an hundred and eighty or more. Who complains?"
Source: Gutenberg

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