Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Vol. 60, No. 1. Whole No. 344, July 1972

The Forbidden Word by R. L. Stevens{© 1972 by R. L. Stevens.}

Can it happen here? Even in the future?...

Gregory had not visited Los Angeles since the summer of 1978, and the changes he now found were a bit unnerving. True, the reconstruction was almost complete, the signs of disaster had nearly vanished; but there was about the city a certain strangeness which he could not at first pinpoint.

Driving in from the airport in his rented electric car, he was aware that the freeway traffic was thinner than he had remembered. At one stretch, just before turning onto Slauson Avenue, he counted only five cars ahead of him — at a time of day when he used to see hundreds.

He asked Browder about it at the office and the grayhaired regional sales manager merely shrugged. “Oh, they’re trying to keep it quiet, but we all know it’s happening. This building is only half occupied and nearly all the houses on my block have For Sale signs out. People are leaving by the thousands.”

“But why?” Gregory, a stolid midwesterner, found it difficult to understand.

“The last one was the worst, really bad. People just decided they’d had enough.”

“You mean the earthquake?”

Browder held up a hand. “We don’t talk about it in public. God, Gregory, it’s been bad out here! Haven’t you read about the California Enabling Act back east?”

“I might have seen something in the newspapers,” Gregory said.

“They’re trying everything to minimize the danger, to get people to stay.” Browder chuckled dryly. “I’m old enough to remember the depression days when I was a boy. Then they put up roadblocks to keep people out of the state. Now they try to keep ’em in!”

“Times change,” Gregory agreed. “But what about business? The home office sent me out because sales have fallen off so badly. What’s been happening?”

The grayhaired man shrugged again. “You need people to buy things.”

“Surely it’s not that bad!”

“What have I just been telling you? Wait till the census in 1990. They can fake a lot of things, but they can’t fake that. That’ll tell the story. Some say it’ll show a population drop of close to fifty percent.”

“But the states back east are booming — they haven’t room for all the people!”

“That’s back east. This is out here. They have their problems and we have ours.”

Gregory glanced down at the sheet of sales figures. “What should I tell the home office?”

“Just that. I can’t sell to people who aren’t here.”

They talked longer, of many things, but when Gregory left the office he was troubled and unhappy. Los Angeles had always been one of their best markets, and if it really was dying as Browder believed, the company was in trouble.

It was the lunch hour, but the downtown streets were pleasantly uncrowded. Gregory found himself able to walk along easily without being pushed off the sidewalk — so unlike the midtown pedestrian jams in New York and Chicago. He almost wondered if this might be a good, uncluttered place to live — but then he remembered the people who were leaving, and the reason they were leaving.

“Hello, there,” a girl’s voice said at his side. He turned and saw a pretty blonde who seemed vaguely familiar. When she noted his uncertainty she explained, “I’m Mr. Browder’s secretary. You probably didn’t notice me in the outer office.”

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t. My name is Gregory.”

“I know. I’m Lola Miller. Are you going somewhere for lunch?”

“Do you know a good place?”

“The office girls usually eat at the Sunset Lounge. It’s only a block away.”

“Sounds good. Would you join me?”

“Glad to. I enjoy company while I eat.”

Lola Miller was in her midtwenties, with that sunny California beauty that recalled the movie queens of the 1950s. He liked her smile and the way she had of showing one dimple in her left cheek in a sort of lopsided grin.

“It’s nearly ten years since I’ve visited L.A.,” he said, seating himself opposite her at one of the little tables.

“It’s almost rebuilt now, isn’t it? You wouldn’t know anything had happened.”

“Apparently the people know. I understand they’re leaving.”

She nodded. “Terrible for business, isn’t it? Pretty soon we’ll be a ghost state. I suppose that’s why they had to pass all those laws.”

“The California Enabling Act? Browder mentioned it.”

“It’s terrible, but necessary. Something had to be done after the last disaster.” She pressed the button for the waitress. “All those scare headlines in the papers, everybody talking so much — that’s when the real panic started.”

“You mean after the earthquake?” he asked just as the waitress appeared. Across the table Lola Miller’s face suddenly drained of color. The waitress took their order and hurried back to the counter.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Lola cautioned him. “Not in public. She might turn you in.”

“Said what? The word earthquake? Well, that’s what it was, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but we’re forbidden to—”

She was cut off in midsentence by the appearance of a tall young man dressed in the style of the ’70s. There was no mistaking his appearance or the tone of his voice. “Would you step outside for a moment, sir?” he asked.

“What for?”

The newcomer gave a little frozen smile and pressed a button on his flipcase, showing the gold card. “California State Police, sir. I’ll have to ask you to come along quietly.”

“But what have I done?”

“Greg—” Lola began, trying to interrupt.

“Reported violation of Section 45431 of the Criminal Code, sir. The California Enabling Act.”

Gregory got shakily to his feet, still not believing it was really happening. “You’ll have to explain it more clearly than that.”

“You were heard to utter a word that it is forbidden to speak in public, sir.”

“Word? What word?”

A hand of steel closed around his wrist. “Just come along quietly, sir.”

Gregory looked back in despair at Lola. “I think I need a lawyer,” he said.

The officer in charge was a towering hulk of a man who came right to the point. “You’re in big trouble, Gregory. Conviction on a violation of 45431 carries a prison sentence of five years.”

“All because I used the word earthquake?”

“Exactly. You used it in a public place and thereby violated the law. The word cannot be used in any periodical printed within the state of California or uttered in any public place.”

“But that’s ridiculous! You can’t simply wipe a word out of the language!”

“Mr. Gregory, the future of our state is at stake here. Believe me, we’re not the only place that has passed laws about what can or cannot be said in public.”

“The Supreme Court—”

“The Supreme Court itself once stated that no one had the right to yell ‘Fire’ in a crowded theater. Likewise, during the airplane bombings and hijackings some twenty years ago, no one had the right to talk about bombs while flying on a plane. Men were arrested for joking about a bomb in their luggage or saying they were going to take the plane to Cuba.”

“But—”

The officer, whose name was Vitroll, cut him off with a wave of the hand. “It’s the same thing here. The state is in an emergency situation. The only way to control it is to blot out all mention of what happened a few years back. After a time people will forget, and start to return.”

“I’m from out of state,” Gregory argued. “I had only the vaguest idea of the law here.”

“Ignorance of the law has never been recognized as an excuse in a court of law. In fact, it might go harder on you being from the east. It’s all that eastern propaganda causing us the trouble in the first place. Eastern magazines and newspapers and television, always talking about things out here, about the disaster and how it’s sure to happen again.”

“I’m not exactly an easterner. I’m from a suburb of Chicago.”

“That’s east to us,” Vitroll said, moving his hulk from the edge of the desk. “I’ll have to book you.”

“How much will the bail be?”

“That’s up to the judge. In cases where it seems likely the offense will be repeated, no bail is granted.”

“All this for just saying a word?”

“These are troubled times, Mr. Gregory. The survival of the state is at stake.”

He went away then, leaving Gregory alone in the room. For a time there was nothing to do but ponder the position in which he found himself. Surely a call to the home office would bring him the best of legal aid. This sort of thing could not go on unnoticed.

The door opened and a uniformed guard said, “Follow me, sir.”

“Are you taking me to the judge?”

“No, sir. To a cell. You’ll have to wait there until it’s time for your hearing.”

Gregory followed reluctantly, noticing that a second guard had come up behind him. They were treating him exactly like a criminal, taking no chances. “I’m harmless,” he said. “Really.”

“In here.”

The cell door slid shut automatically behind him and he was left alone with the gray metal walls. He walked over to the bunk and tested its lumpy surface, wondering how many had occupied it before him and for how long. Sitting there, trying to collect his thoughts, he took out his pen to make a few notes. It slipped from his numb fingers, clattering on the steel floor, and he bent to retrieve it.

That was when he noticed the word scrawled under the bunk, where the guards would not see it. Though he might have expected some obscenity in such a place, the word was much more frightening.

There, beneath the bunk, some earlier prisoner had scrawled: earthquake.

They took him to the courtroom, between two guards, and he looked up at the frozenfaced judge who seemed almost unaware of his presence.

“Violation of Section 45431 of the Criminal Code, your Honor. California Enabling Act,” a voice behind him said.

The judge nodded slightly. “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, your Honor. I’m from out of state. I knew nothing of this law.”

“I would have thought it had been well publicized,” the judge commented dryly. “Will you waive your right to a trial?”

“No, sir, I will not! I haven’t even consulted a lawyer yet.”

“Very well. I’ll schedule the trial for October 15th — two weeks from today. Bail is set at five thousand dollars, and you are ordered not to leave the state.”

“Five thousand—”

Behind him Vitroll cleared his throat. “Bail has been raised by a friend of the defendant, your Honor.”

Gregory turned and saw Lola Miller standing behind the railing. He walked toward her, feeling at once the need for fresh outside air. “Thank you,” he said simply.

“The company put it up,” she explained, “but they didn’t want their name involved.”

“Thanks, anyway. I know you had a hand in it.”

“I was with you when it happened. I felt some responsibility. Come on, my car is outside.”

They drove back to the office where a distracted Browder was waiting. He rose as they entered and hurried over to shake Gregory’s hand. “My God, I’d thought we’d lost you! The. home office would never have forgiven me! When Lola told me what happened—”

“I wasn’t aware of the details of your laws out here. What happens now? I’m supposed to stay here for two weeks.”

“What happens?” Browder repeated. “Why, you’ll jump bail, of course! The company will stand the loss. Otherwise, believe me, it means a jail sentence.”

“They’ve actually sent people to prison for this?”

“Dozens of them, for terms up to five years. It’s not worth taking the chance, Gregory.”

“No, indeed,” he agreed. “I’ll catch the next plane out of here.”

“It might not be that easy,” Lola cautioned. “They watch the airports — they have electronic surveillance systems of all sorts. Your photograph is already stored in the memory bank.”

He turned to Browder. “Any suggestions?”

“Drive your rented car out of the state. To Las Vegas, maybe. Then get a plane from there.”

“They don’t watch the highways?”

“Only for people moving out of the state — furniture vans, things like that. You’d be safe, especially if Lola traveled with you.”

“Then that’s it,” Gregory decided.

An hour later they were headed out of Los Angeles in the little electric car.

“I know so little about you,” she said, once the car had cleared the city limits.

“There’s not much to know. I’m just a man who cried earthquake and got arrested for it.”

“I mean — well, are you. married?”

“I was once.” He gazed out at the passing landscape of cactus, thinking how little it had changed in the past hundred years. Civilization had not yet reached the back roads of eastern California. “But that was a long time ago.”

“You don’t like to talk about it.”

“Does anyone like to talk about failures?” He was silent for a time, then said, “You’re taking a chance traveling with me. If we’re caught you could end up in prison, too.”

“You’d never find your way alone on these back roads. Either you’d get lost or one of the copter patrol would spot you.”

“Copter patrol?”

She pointed to the sky. “There’s one now. They watch mainly for trucks and vans heading out of the state, but they could make trouble if they spotted you.”

The copter, painted gold, dipped low, catching the sun, as it came in for a closer look. Apparently it saw nothing amiss, for it headed away again at once. “How far to the state line?” he asked.

“Less than an hour.” Like all Californians, she gave distances in time rather than miles.

“You’re sure there’ll be no roadblocks?”

“Not on these back roads. And once you’re across it’ll be difficult for them to put their hands on you. Most states won’t grant extradition for crimes committed under the California Enabling Act.”

Some 45 minutes later, as they topped a rise of desert land, he saw the first billboard. “Settle here!” it proclaimed. “Free from earthquake danger!”

“That’s it,” Lola said, giving a little sigh. “We’re across the line — in Nevada now.”

“Will you be going back to California after you drop me in Vegas?”

She turned in her seat, looking at him, “You know something? I’m scared of those damned earthquakes, too. I was always afraid to admit it till now, but since I’m safely out of that place I don’t think I’ll be hurrying back.”

“Come east with me,” he j said.

“I’ve never been east.”

“All the more reason for you to go.”

“Could you get me a job at the home office?”

He considered that for a moment. “There’s too much of my past scattered around Chicago. Besides, they might just come looking for me for jumping bail. Maybe the company doesn’t think I’m worth five thousand.”

“Where, then?”

“Farther east — New York.”

“With all those people?”

“It’s not so bad. A lot of it is California propaganda.”

They passed more billboards and presently the gleaming towers of Las Vegas came into view, like some mythic kingdom in the desert. “All right,” she said finally. “I’ll go east with you.”

He took one hand off the steering wheel and touched her, lightly. “I’m glad.”

They turned in the rented car at the Vegas airport, even though he knew it would indicate the direction of his flight. He was not a criminal, and had not yet learned to act like one. He was merely a man in flight, with no reason for covering his tracks.

On the plane east they held hands like teenagers of some era of long ago, and he told her what he remembered of the crowded streets of Manhattan. “There are people, sure, and sometimes it’s difficult to stay on the sidewalk, but it’s all worth it. The last time I was there, New York really got to me. The smallest event brings out thousands of people. It’s a people’s town — people everywhere!”

“And they all drive cars.”

“Little electrics, smaller than in California. Traffic is still bad, though, I’ll admit that. With so many people in the New York area there are times when nothing moves.”

It was night when they landed at Kennedy International Airport, and close to midnight by the time they took the express subway into Manhattan. Lola was hungry, so they had something to eat in the hotel coffee shop before going up to their rooms.

“Tomorrow we’ll look for an apartment, and jobs,” he said.

“It’s good to be here with you.”

“Even with all the people?”

“Even with all the people. That other, in California — it seems like a nightmare now.”

“It does, in a way,” he agreed. “We’ve gone back a long way in this country when words can be so dangerous they have to be banned. And it’s no longer the obscenities that frighten people, but a simple word like earthquake. I feel like standing up and shouting it here. Earthquake! Earthquake!”

She took his hand. “You know, I think I could learn to love you.”

He was touched by her gentleness. “I guess I already do love you.”

Later, after they’d finished eating, they left the coffee shop and headed across the lobby to the elevators. Gregory saw the two men first, waiting for them, and he was reminded of Vitroll and the others in California.

“Lola, those men!”

“What?”

But then it was too late to run. “Sorry, sir, I’ll have to ask you and the lady to accompany us.”

“Not her,” Gregory said. “I’m the one you want.”

“It’s both of you we want.”

Lola tried to move away, but the second man seized her arm. “Will you take us back to California?” she asked, and her voice was close to a sob.

The first man frowned. “We don’t know anything about California. Here’s my identification. George Bates of the Population Control Board, New York City Police.”

“New York? But we—”

“You were overheard using a certain word that is not in keeping with the laws of this city. A word that could be harmful, or lead to harmful acts.”

“What word?” Gregory demanded, feeling his heart sink.

The man named Bates consulted a notebook. “I believe the word was... love.”