Short Fiction, Poul Anderson [simple e reader .TXT] 📗

prepared to offer you twenty thousand a year to start.”

Arch sat without moving.

“After taxes,” said Gilmer.

“How about this⁠—capacitite, I call it?”

“Naturally, development and marketing would be in the hands of the company, or of several companies,” said Gilmer. “You wouldn’t want to waste your time on account books. You’d get proper payment for the assignment, of course⁠—”

Elizabeth entered, looking stunning. Gilmer rose with elaborate courtesy, and the discussion veered to trivialities for awhile.

Then the girl lit a cigarette and watched them through a haze of smoke. “Your time is valuable, Mr. Gilmer,” she said abruptly. “Why don’t you make an offer and we’ll talk about that?”

“Oh, no hurry, Mrs. Arch. I was hoping you would be my guests tonight⁠—”

“No, thanks. With all due regard for you, I don’t want to be put under a moral obligation before business is discussed.”

Gilmer chuckled amiably and repeated the idea he had broached.

“I like Westfield,” said Elizabeth. “I don’t like New York. It isn’t fit for human consumption.”

“Oh, I quite agree,” said Gilmer. “Once a year I have to break loose⁠—cabin up in Maine, hunting, fishing, back to Nature⁠—you really must come up sometime soon. Your objection can be answered easily enough. We could set up a laboratory for you here, if you really insist. You see, we’re prepared to be very generous.”

Arch shook his head. “No,” he said harshly. “No, thanks. I like being independent.”

Gilmer raised his brows. “I understand that. But after all, the only difference would be⁠—”

Arch grinned. He was enjoying himself now. On a dark day some years ago, he had tried to raise a bank loan and had failed for lack of collateral and credit rating and his refusal to subject any friend to cosigning. Ever since, he had indulged daydreams about having finance come crawling to him. The reality was intoxicating.

“No,” he repeated. “That’s all I want to say about it, too. The income from capacitite will be quite enough for us. If you want to discuss a license to manufacture, go ahead.”

“Hrm! As you wish.” Gilmer smoothed the coldness out of his voice. “Maybe you’ll change your mind later. If so, feel free to call on me anytime. Now, for an assignment of rights, I think a sum of fifty thousand dollars could be arranged⁠—”

Elizabeth drooped lids over startlingly blue eyes. “As an initial payment, perhaps,” she said gently. “But think what a royalty of, say, ten cents a pound would add up to even in a year.”

“Oh, yes, that would be negotiated too,” said Gilmer. “However, you realize manufacture could not start immediately, and would in any case be on a smaller scale than you perhaps think.”

“Eh?” Arch sat bolt upright. “What do you mean? Why, this stuff is going to revolutionize not only electronics, but all power⁠—dammit, everything!”

“Dr. Arch,” said Gilmer regretfully, “you must not have considered the matter of capital investment. Do you know how many billions of dollars are sunk in generators, dams, lines, motors⁠—”

“Gasoline,” said Elizabeth. “We’ve thought of that angle too.”

“We can’t throw all that in the discard!” went on Gilmer earnestly. He seemed more human, all at once. “It may take twenty years to recover the investment in, say, a local transmission network. The company would go broke overnight if that investment were suddenly made valueless. Millions of people would be thrown out of work. Millions more would lose their savings in stocks and bonds⁠—”

“I always said stocks were a mug’s game,” interrupted Arch. “If the two or three shares owned by the widow and orphan you’re leading up to go blooey, it won’t break her. For years, now, I’ve had ads dinning the wonders of the present economic system into my ears. One of its main features, I’m told, is progress. All right, here’s a chance to leap a hundred years ahead. Let’s see you take it.”

Gilmer’s pink cheeks reddened. “I’m afraid you still don’t understand,” he replied. “We have a responsibility. The world is watching us. Just imagine what those British Socialists would say if⁠—”

“If you’re against socialism,” said Elizabeth with a laugh, “why not start at home? Public schools and federal highways, for instance. I fail to see where personal liberty is necessarily tied to any particular method of distribution.”

Gilmer seemed, for a moment, to lose his temper. “This is no place for radicals,” he said thickly. “We’ve all got to have faith and put our shoulders to the wheel. We⁠—” He paused, swallowed, and smiled rather stiffly. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to get worked up. There are a lot of stories about wonderful new inventions which the greedy corporations have bought up and hidden away. They simply are not true. All I’m after is a gradual introduction of this material.”

“I know those wonderful inventions are pure rumor,” said Arch. “But I also know that just about everything I buy is made to wear out so I’ll have to buy some more. It’s cheaper, yes, but I’d rather pay twice as much to start with and have my purchase last ten times as long. Why can’t I buy a decent kitchen knife? There’s not one that keeps its edge. My wife finally made eyes at the butcher and got one of his old knives; it lasts.

“A big thing like capacitite represents a chance to change our whole philosophy into something more rational. That’s what I’m after⁠—not just money. There needn’t be any unemployment. Capacitite makes increased production possible, so why not⁠—well, why not drop the work day to four hours for the same wages? Then you can employ twice as many people.”

“It is not your or my place to make carping criticisms,” retorted Gilmer. “Fundamental changes aren’t as easy as you think. Dr. Arch, I’m sorry to say that unless you’ll agree to proper terms, none of the companies I represent will be interested in your material.”

“All right,” snapped Arch. “I can make it myself. Make it by the ton if I like, and sell it for a dollar a pound.”

“You may find yourself undersold.”

“My patent⁠—”

“It hasn’t gone through yet.