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authorRoger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>2025-10-15 01:53:00 -0700
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bread Overhead, by Fritz Reuter Leiber
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Bread Overhead
+
+Author: Fritz Reuter Leiber
+
+Illustrator: Wood
+
+Release Date: September 11, 2007 [EBook #22579]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAD OVERHEAD ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ Bread
+ Overhead
+
+ By FRITZ LEIBER
+
+
+ _The Staff of Life suddenly and
+ disconcertingly sprouted wings
+ --and mankind had to eat crow!_
+
+
+ Illustrated by WOOD
+
+
+As a blisteringly hot but guaranteed weather-controlled future summer
+day dawned on the Mississippi Valley, the walking mills of Puffy
+Products ("Spike to Loaf in One Operation!") began to tread delicately
+on their centipede legs across the wheat fields of Kansas.
+
+The walking mills resembled fat metal serpents, rather larger than those
+Chinese paper dragons animated by files of men in procession. Sensory
+robot devices in their noses informed them that the waiting wheat had
+reached ripe perfection.
+
+As they advanced, their heads swung lazily from side to side, very much
+like snakes, gobbling the yellow grain. In their throats, it was
+threshed, the chaff bundled and burped aside for pickup by the crawl
+trucks of a chemical corporation, the kernels quick-dried and blown
+along into the mighty chests of the machines. There the tireless mills
+ground the kernels to flour, which was instantly sifted, the bran being
+packaged and dropped like the chaff for pickup. A cluster of tanks which
+gave the metal serpents a decidedly humpbacked appearance added water,
+shortening, salt and other ingredients, some named and some not. The
+dough was at the same time infused with gas from a tank conspicuously
+labeled "Carbon Dioxide" ("No Yeast Creatures in Your Bread!").
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Thus instantly risen, the dough was clipped into loaves and shot into
+radionic ovens forming the midsections of the metal serpents. There the
+bread was baked in a matter of seconds, a fierce heat-front browning the
+crusts, and the piping-hot loaves sealed in transparent plastic bearing
+the proud Puffyloaf emblem (two cherubs circling a floating loaf) and
+ejected onto the delivery platform at each serpent's rear end, where a
+cluster of pickup machines, like hungry piglets, snatched at the loaves
+with hygienic claws.
+
+A few loaves would be hurried off for the day's consumption, the
+majority stored for winter in strategically located mammoth deep
+freezes.
+
+But now, behold a wonder! As loaves began to appear on the delivery
+platform of the first walking mill to get into action, they did not
+linger on the conveyor belt, but rose gently into the air and slowly
+traveled off down-wind across the hot rippling fields.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The robot claws of the pickup machines clutched in vain, and, not
+noticing the difference, proceeded carefully to stack emptiness, tier by
+tier. One errant loaf, rising more sluggishly than its fellows, was
+snagged by a thrusting claw. The machine paused, clumsily wiped off the
+injured loaf, set it aside--where it bobbed on one corner, unable to
+take off again--and went back to the work of storing nothingness.
+
+A flock of crows rose from the trees of a nearby shelterbelt as the
+flight of loaves approached. The crows swooped to investigate and then
+suddenly scattered, screeching in panic.
+
+The helicopter of a hangoverish Sunday traveler bound for Wichita shied
+very similarly from the brown fliers and did not return for a second
+look.
+
+A black-haired housewife spied them over her back fence, crossed herself
+and grabbed her walkie-talkie from the laundry basket. Seconds later,
+the yawning correspondent of a regional newspaper was jotting down the
+lead of a humorous news story which, recalling the old flying-saucer
+scares, stated that now apparently bread was to be included in the mad
+aerial tea party.
+
+The congregation of an open-walled country church, standing up to recite
+the most familiar of Christian prayers, had just reached the petition
+for daily sustenance, when a sub-flight of the loaves, either forced
+down by a vagrant wind or lacking the natural buoyancy of the rest, came
+coasting silently as the sunbeams between the graceful pillars at the
+altar end of the building.
+
+Meanwhile, the main flight, now augmented by other bread flocks from
+scores and hundreds of walking mills that had started work a little
+later, mounted slowly and majestically into the cirrus-flecked upper
+air, where a steady wind was blowing strongly toward the east.
+
+About one thousand miles farther on in that direction, where a cluster
+of stratosphere-tickling towers marked the location of the metropolis of
+NewNew York, a tender scene was being enacted in the pressurized
+penthouse managerial suite of Puffy Products. Megera Winterly, Secretary
+in Chief to the Managerial Board and referred to by her underlings as
+the Blonde Icicle, was dealing with the advances of Roger ("Racehorse")
+Snedden, Assistant Secretary to the Board and often indistinguishable
+from any passing office boy.
+
+"Why don't you jump out the window, Roger, remembering to shut the
+airlock after you?" the Golden Glacier said in tones not unkind. "When
+are your high-strung, thoroughbred nerves going to accept the fact that
+I would never consider marriage with a business inferior? You have about
+as much chance as a starving Ukrainian kulak now that Moscow's clapped
+on the interdict."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Roger's voice was calm, although his eyes were feverishly bright, as he
+replied, "A lot of things are going to be different around here, Meg, as
+soon as the Board is forced to admit that only my quick thinking made it
+possible to bring the name of Puffyloaf in front of the whole world."
+
+"Puffyloaf could do with a little of that," the business girl observed
+judiciously. "The way sales have been plummeting, it won't be long
+before the Government deeds our desks to the managers of Fairy Bread and
+asks us to take the Big Jump. But just where does your quick thinking
+come into this, Mr. Snedden? You can't be referring to the helium--that
+was Rose Thinker's brainwave."
+
+She studied him suspiciously. "You've birthed another promotional
+bumble, Roger. I can see it in your eyes. I only hope it's not as big a
+one as when you put the Martian ambassador on 3D and he thanked you
+profusely for the gross of Puffyloaves, assuring you that he'd never
+slept on a softer mattress in all his life on two planets."
+
+"Listen to me, Meg. Today--yes, today!--you're going to see the Board
+eating out of my hand."
+
+"Hah! I guarantee you won't have any fingers left. You're bold enough
+now, but when Mr. Gryce and those two big machines come through that
+door--"
+
+"Now wait a minute, Meg--"
+
+"Hush! They're coming now!"
+
+Roger leaped three feet in the air, but managed to land without a sound
+and edged toward his stool. Through the dilating iris of the door strode
+Phineas T. Gryce, flanked by Rose Thinker and Tin Philosopher.
+
+The man approached the conference table in the center of the room with
+measured pace and gravely expressionless face. The rose-tinted machine
+on his left did a couple of impulsive pirouettes on the way and
+twittered a greeting to Meg and Roger. The other machine quietly took
+the third of the high seats and lifted a claw at Meg, who now occupied a
+stool twice the height of Roger's.
+
+"Miss Winterly, please--our theme."
+
+The Blonde Icicle's face thawed into a little-girl smile as she chanted
+bubblingly:
+
+ "_Made up of tiny wheaten motes
+ And reinforced with sturdy oats,
+ It rises through the air and floats--
+ The bread on which all Terra dotes!_"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"Thank you, Miss Winterly," said Tin Philosopher. "Though a purely
+figurative statement, that bit about rising through the air always gets
+me--here." He rapped his midsection, which gave off a high musical
+_clang_.
+
+"Ladies--" he inclined his photocells toward Rose Thinker and Meg--"and
+gentlemen. This is a historic occasion in Old Puffy's long history, the
+inauguration of the helium-filled loaf ('So Light It Almost Floats
+Away!') in which that inert and heaven-aspiring gas replaces
+old-fashioned carbon dioxide. Later, there will be kudos for Rose
+Thinker, whose bright relays genius-sparked the idea, and also for Roger
+Snedden, who took care of the details.
+
+"By the by, Racehorse, that was a brilliant piece of work getting the
+helium out of the government--they've been pretty stuffy lately about
+their monopoly. But first I want to throw wide the casement in your
+minds that opens on the Long View of Things."
+
+Rose Thinker spun twice on her chair and opened her photocells wide. Tin
+Philosopher coughed to limber up the diaphragm of his speaker and
+continued:
+
+"Ever since the first cave wife boasted to her next-den neighbor about
+the superior paleness and fluffiness of her tortillas, mankind has
+sought lighter, whiter bread. Indeed, thinkers wiser than myself have
+equated the whole upward course of culture with this poignant quest.
+Yeast was a wonderful discovery--for its primitive day. Sifting the bran
+and wheat germ from the flour was an even more important advance. Early
+bleaching and preserving chemicals played their humble parts.
+
+"For a while, barbarous faddists--blind to the deeply spiritual nature
+of bread, which is recognized by all great religions--held back our
+march toward perfection with their hair-splitting insistence on the
+vitamin content of the wheat germ, but their case collapsed when
+tasteless colorless substitutes were triumphantly synthesized and
+introduced into the loaf, which for flawless purity, unequaled airiness
+and sheer intangible goodness was rapidly becoming mankind's supreme
+gustatory experience."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"I wonder what the stuff tastes like," Rose Thinker said out of a clear
+sky.
+
+"I wonder what taste tastes like," Tin Philosopher echoed dreamily.
+Recovering himself, he continued:
+
+"Then, early in the twenty-first century, came the epochal researches of
+Everett Whitehead, Puffyloaf chemist, culminating in his paper 'The
+Structural Bubble in Cereal Masses' and making possible the baking of
+airtight bread twenty times stronger (for its weight) than steel and of
+a lightness that would have been incredible even to the advanced
+chemist-bakers of the twentieth century--a lightness so great that,
+besides forming the backbone of our own promotion, it has forever since
+been capitalized on by our conscienceless competitors of Fairy Bread
+with their enduring slogan: 'It Makes Ghost Toast'."
+
+"That's a beaut, all right, that ecto-dough blurb," Rose Thinker
+admitted, bugging her photocells sadly. "Wait a sec. How about?--
+
+ "_There'll be bread
+ Overhead
+ When you're dead--
+ It is said._"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Phineas T. Gryce wrinkled his nostrils at the pink machine as if he
+smelled her insulation smoldering. He said mildly, "A somewhat unhappy
+jingle, Rose, referring as it does to the end of the customer as
+consumer. Moreover, we shouldn't overplay the figurative 'rises through
+the air' angle. What inspired you?"
+
+She shrugged. "I don't know--oh, yes, I do. I was remembering one of the
+workers' songs we machines used to chant during the Big Strike--
+
+ "_Work and pray,
+ Live on hay.
+ You'll get pie
+ In the sky
+ When you die--
+ It's a lie!_
+
+"I don't know why we chanted it," she added. "We didn't want pie--or
+hay, for that matter. And machines don't pray, except Tibetan prayer
+wheels."
+
+Phineas T. Gryce shook his head. "Labor relations are another topic we
+should stay far away from. However, dear Rose, I'm glad you keep trying
+to outjingle those dirty crooks at Fairy Bread." He scowled, turning
+back his attention to Tin Philosopher. "I get whopping mad, Old Machine,
+whenever I hear that other slogan of theirs, the discriminatory
+one--'Untouched by Robot Claws.' Just because they employ a few filthy
+androids in their factories!"
+
+Tin Philosopher lifted one of his own sets of bright talons. "Thanks,
+P.T. But to continue my historical resume, the next great advance in the
+baking art was the substitution of purified carbon dioxide, recovered
+from coal smoke, for the gas generated by yeast organisms indwelling in
+the dough and later killed by the heat of baking, their corpses
+remaining _in situ_. But even purified carbon dioxide is itself a rather
+repugnant gas, a product of metabolism whether fast or slow, and forever
+associated with those life processes which are obnoxious to the
+fastidious."
+
+Here the machine shuddered with delicate clinkings. "Therefore, we of
+Puffyloaf are taking today what may be the ultimate step toward purity:
+we are aerating our loaves with the noble gas helium, an element which
+remains virginal in the face of all chemical temptations and whose slim
+molecules are eleven times lighter than obese carbon dioxide--yes, noble
+uncontaminable helium, which, if it be a kind of ash, is yet the ash
+only of radioactive burning, accomplished or initiated entirely on the
+Sun, a safe 93 million miles from this planet. Let's have a cheer for
+the helium loaf!"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Without changing expression, Phineas T. Gryce rapped the table thrice in
+solemn applause, while the others bowed their heads.
+
+"Thanks, T.P.," P.T. then said. "And now for the Moment of Truth. Miss
+Winterly, how is the helium loaf selling?"
+
+The business girl clapped on a pair of earphones and whispered into a
+lapel mike. Her gaze grew abstracted as she mentally translated flurries
+of brief squawks into coherent messages. Suddenly a single vertical
+furrow creased her matchlessly smooth brow.
+
+"It isn't, Mr. Gryce!" she gasped in horror. "Fairy Bread is outselling
+Puffyloaves by an infinity factor. So far this morning, _there has not
+been one single delivery of Puffyloaves to any sales spot_! Complaints
+about non-delivery are pouring in from both walking stores and sessile
+shops."
+
+"Mr. Snedden!" Gryce barked. "What bug in the new helium process might
+account for this delay?"
+
+Roger was on his feet, looking bewildered. "I can't imagine, sir,
+unless--just possibly--there's been some unforeseeable difficulty
+involving the new metal-foil wrappers."
+
+"Metal-foil wrappers? Were _you_ responsible for those?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Last-minute recalculations showed that the extra lightness of
+the new loaf might be great enough to cause drift during stackage.
+Drafts in stores might topple sales pyramids. Metal-foil wrappers, by
+their added weight, took care of the difficulty."
+
+"And you ordered them without consulting the Board?"
+
+"Yes, sir. There was hardly time and--"
+
+"Why, you fool! I noticed that order for metal-foil wrappers, assumed it
+was some sub-secretary's mistake, and canceled it last night!"
+
+Roger Snedden turned pale. "You canceled it?" he quavered. "And told
+them to go back to the lighter plastic wrappers?"
+
+"Of course! Just what is behind all this, Mr. Snedden? _What_
+recalculations were you trusting, when our physicists had demonstrated
+months ago that the helium loaf was safely stackable in light airs and
+gentle breezes--winds up to Beaufort's scale 3. _Why_ should a change
+from heavier to lighter wrappers result in complete non-delivery?"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Roger Snedden's paleness became tinged with an interesting green. He
+cleared his throat and made strange gulping noises. Tin Philosopher's
+photocells focused on him calmly, Rose Thinker's with unfeigned
+excitement. P.T. Gryce's frown grew blacker by the moment, while Megera
+Winterly's Venus-mask showed an odd dawning of dismay and awe. She was
+getting new squawks in her earphones.
+
+"Er ... ah ... er...." Roger said in winning tones. "Well, you see, the
+fact is that I...."
+
+"Hold it," Meg interrupted crisply. "Triple-urgent from Public
+Relations, Safety Division. Tulsa-Topeka aero-express makes emergency
+landing after being buffeted in encounter with vast flight of objects
+first described as brown birds, although no failures reported in
+airway's electronic anti-bird fences. After grounding safely near
+Emporia--no fatalities--pilot's windshield found thinly plastered with
+soft white-and-brown material. Emblems on plastic wrappers embedded in
+material identify it incontrovertibly as an undetermined number of
+Puffyloaves cruising at three thousand feet!"
+
+Eyes and photocells turned inquisitorially upon Roger Snedden. He went
+from green to Puffyloaf white and blurted: "All right, I did it, but it
+was the only way out! Yesterday morning, due to the Ukrainian crisis,
+the government stopped sales and deliveries of all strategic stockpiled
+materials, including helium gas. Puffy's new program of advertising and
+promotion, based on the lighter loaf, was already rolling. There was
+only one thing to do, there being only one other gas comparable in
+lightness to helium. I diverted the necessary quantity of hydrogen gas
+from the Hydrogenated Oils Section of our Magna-Margarine Division and
+substituted it for the helium."
+
+"You substituted ... hydrogen ... for the ... helium?" Phineas T. Gryce
+faltered in low mechanical tones, taking four steps backward.
+
+"Hydrogen is twice as light as helium," Tin Philosopher remarked
+judiciously.
+
+"And many times cheaper--did you know that?" Roger countered feebly.
+"Yes, I substituted hydrogen. The metal-foil wrapping would have added
+just enough weight to counteract the greater buoyancy of the hydrogen
+loaf. But--"
+
+"So, when this morning's loaves began to arrive on the delivery
+platforms of the walking mills...." Tin Philosopher left the remark
+unfinished.
+
+"Exactly," Roger agreed dismally.
+
+"Let me ask you, Mr. Snedden," Gryce interjected, still in low tones,
+"if you expected people to jump to the kitchen ceiling for their
+Puffybread after taking off the metal wrapper, or reach for the sky if
+they happened to unwrap the stuff outdoors?"
+
+"Mr. Gryce," Roger said reproachfully, "you have often assured me that
+what people do with Puffybread after they buy it is no concern of ours."
+
+"I seem to recall," Rose Thinker chirped somewhat unkindly, "that dictum
+was created to answer inquiries after Roger put the famous
+sculptures-in-miniature artist on 3D and he testified that he always
+molded his first attempts from Puffybread, one jumbo loaf squeezing down
+to approximately the size of a peanut."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Her photocells dimmed and brightened. "Oh, boy--hydrogen! The loaf's
+unwrapped. After a while, in spite of the crust-seal, a little oxygen
+diffuses in. An explosive mixture. Housewife in curlers and kimono pops
+a couple slices in the toaster. Boom!"
+
+The three human beings in the room winced.
+
+Tin Philosopher kicked her under the table, while observing, "So you
+see, Roger, that the non-delivery of the hydrogen loaf carries some
+consolations. And I must confess that one aspect of the affair gives me
+great satisfaction, not as a Board Member but as a private machine. You
+have at last made a reality of the 'rises through the air' part of
+Puffybread's theme. They can't ever take that away from you. By now,
+half the inhabitants of the Great Plains must have observed our flying
+loaves rising high."
+
+Phineas T. Gryce shot a frightened look at the west windows and found
+his full voice.
+
+"Stop the mills!" he roared at Meg Winterly, who nodded and whispered
+urgently into her mike.
+
+"A sensible suggestion," Tin Philosopher said. "But it comes a trifle
+late in the day. If the mills are still walking and grinding,
+approximately seven billion Puffyloaves are at this moment cruising
+eastward over Middle America. Remember that a six-month supply for
+deep-freeze is involved and that the current consumption of bread, due
+to its matchless airiness, is eight and one-half loaves per person per
+day."
+
+Phineas T. Gryce carefully inserted both hands into his scanty hair,
+feeling for a good grip. He leaned menacingly toward Roger who, chin
+resting on the table, regarded him apathetically.
+
+"Hold it!" Meg called sharply. "Flock of multiple-urgents coming in.
+News Liaison: information bureaus swamped with flying-bread inquiries.
+Aero-expresslines: Clear our airways or face law suit. U. S. Army: Why
+do loaves flame when hit by incendiary bullets? U. S. Customs: If bread
+intended for export, get export license or face prosecution. Russian
+Consulate in Chicago: Advise on destination of bread-lift. And some
+Kansas church is accusing us of a hoax inciting to blasphemy, of faking
+miracles--I don't know _why_."
+
+The business girl tore off her headphones. "Roger Snedden," she cried
+with a hysteria that would have dumfounded her underlings, "you've
+brought the name of Puffyloaf in front of the whole world, all right!
+Now do something about the situation!"
+
+Roger nodded obediently. But his pallor increased a shade, the pupils of
+his eyes disappeared under the upper lids, and his head burrowed beneath
+his forearms.
+
+"Oh, boy," Rose Thinker called gayly to Tin Philosopher, "this looks
+like the start of a real crisis session! Did you remember to bring spare
+batteries?"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Meanwhile, the monstrous flight of Puffyloaves, filling midwestern skies
+as no small fliers had since the days of the passenger pigeon, soared
+steadily onward.
+
+Private fliers approached the brown and glistening bread-front in
+curiosity and dipped back in awe. Aero-expresslines organized
+sightseeing flights along the flanks. Planes of the government forestry
+and agricultural services and 'copters bearing the Puffyloaf emblem
+hovered on the fringes, watching developments and waiting for orders. A
+squadron of supersonic fighters hung menacingly above.
+
+The behavior of birds varied considerably. Most fled or gave the loaves
+a wide berth, but some bolder species, discovering the minimal nutritive
+nature of the translucent brown objects, attacked them furiously with
+beaks and claws. Hydrogen diffusing slowly through the crusts had now
+distended most of the sealed plastic wrappers into little balloons,
+which ruptured, when pierced, with disconcerting _pops_.
+
+Below, neck-craning citizens crowded streets and back yards, cranks and
+cultists had a field day, while local and national governments raged
+indiscriminately at Puffyloaf and at each other.
+
+Rumors that a fusion weapon would be exploded in the midst of the flying
+bread drew angry protests from conservationists and a flood of telefax
+pamphlets titled "H-Loaf or H-bomb?"
+
+Stockholm sent a mystifying note of praise to the United Nations Food
+Organization.
+
+Delhi issued nervous denials of a millet blight that no one had heard of
+until that moment and reaffirmed India's ability to feed her population
+with no outside help except the usual.
+
+Radio Moscow asserted that the Kremlin would brook no interference in
+its treatment of the Ukrainians, jokingly referred to the flying bread
+as a farce perpetrated by mad internationalists inhabiting Cloud Cuckoo
+Land, added contradictory references to airborne bread booby-trapped by
+Capitalist gangsters, and then fell moodily silent on the whole topic.
+
+Radio Venus reported to its winged audience that Earth's inhabitants
+were establishing food depots in the upper air, preparatory to taking up
+permanent aerial residence "such as we have always enjoyed on Venus."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+NewNew York made feverish preparations for the passage of the flying
+bread. Tickets for sightseeing space in skyscrapers were sold at high
+prices; cold meats and potted spreads were hawked to viewers with the
+assurance that they would be able to snag the bread out of the air and
+enjoy a historic sandwich.
+
+Phineas T. Gryce, escaping from his own managerial suite, raged about
+the city, demanding general cooperation in the stretching of great nets
+between the skyscrapers to trap the errant loaves. He was captured by
+Tin Philosopher, escaped again, and was found posted with oxygen mask
+and submachine gun on the topmost spire of Puffyloaf Tower, apparently
+determined to shoot down the loaves as they appeared and before they
+involved his company in more trouble with Customs and the State
+Department.
+
+Recaptured by Tin Philosopher, who suffered only minor bullet holes, he
+was given a series of mild electroshocks and returned to the conference
+table, calm and clear-headed as ever.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+But the bread flight, swinging away from a hurricane moving up the
+Atlantic coast, crossed a clouded-in Boston by night and disappeared
+into a high Atlantic overcast, also thereby evading a local storm
+generated by the Weather Department in a last-minute effort to bring
+down or at least disperse the H-loaves.
+
+Warnings and counterwarnings by Communist and Capitalist governments
+seriously interfered with military trailing of the flight during this
+period and it was actually lost in touch with for several days.
+
+At scattered points, seagulls were observed fighting over individual
+loaves floating down from the gray roof--that was all.
+
+A mood of spirituality strongly tinged with humor seized the people of
+the world. Ministers sermonized about the bread, variously interpreting
+it as a call to charity, a warning against gluttony, a parable of the
+evanescence of all earthly things, and a divine joke. Husbands and
+wives, facing each other across their walls of breakfast toast, burst
+into laughter. The mere sight of a loaf of bread anywhere was enough to
+evoke guffaws. An obscure sect, having as part of its creed the
+injunction "Don't take yourself so damn seriously," won new adherents.
+
+The bread flight, rising above an Atlantic storm widely reported to have
+destroyed it, passed unobserved across a foggy England and rose out of
+the overcast only over Mittel-europa. The loaves had at last reached
+their maximum altitude.
+
+The Sun's rays beat through the rarified air on the distended plastic
+wrappers, increasing still further the pressure of the confined
+hydrogen. They burst by the millions and tens of millions. A high-flying
+Bulgarian evangelist, who had happened to mistake the up-lever for the
+east-lever in the cockpit of his flier and who was the sole witness of
+the event, afterward described it as "the foaming of a sea of diamonds,
+the crackle of God's knuckles."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+By the millions and tens of millions, the loaves coasted down into the
+starving Ukraine. Shaken by a week of humor that threatened to invade
+even its own grim precincts, the Kremlin made a sudden about-face. A new
+policy was instituted of communal ownership of the produce of communal
+farms, and teams of hunger-fighters and caravans of trucks loaded with
+pumpernickel were dispatched into the Ukraine.
+
+World distribution was given to a series of photographs showing
+peasants queueing up to trade scavenged Puffyloaves for traditional
+black bread, recently aerated itself but still extra solid by
+comparison, the rate of exchange demanded by the Moscow teams being
+twenty Puffyloaves to one of pumpernickel.
+
+Another series of photographs, picturing chubby workers' children being
+blown to bits by booby-trapped bread, was quietly destroyed.
+
+Congratulatory notes were exchanged by various national governments and
+world organizations, including the Brotherhood of Free Business
+Machines. The great bread flight was over, though for several weeks
+afterward scattered falls of loaves occurred, giving rise to a new
+folklore of manna among lonely Arabian tribesmen, and in one
+well-authenticated instance in Tibet, sustaining life in a party of
+mountaineers cut off by a snow slide.
+
+Back in NewNew York, the managerial board of Puffy Products slumped in
+utter collapse around the conference table, the long crisis session at
+last ended. Empty coffee cartons were scattered around the chairs of the
+three humans, dead batteries around those of the two machines. For a
+while, there was no movement whatsoever. Then Roger Snedden reached out
+wearily for the earphones where Megera Winterly had hurled them down,
+adjusted them to his head, pushed a button and listened apathetically.
+
+After a bit, his gaze brightened. He pushed more buttons and listened
+more eagerly. Soon he was sitting tensely upright on his stool, eyes
+bright and lower face all a-smile, muttering terse comments and
+questions into the lapel mike torn from Meg's fair neck.
+
+The others, reviving, watched him, at first dully, then with quickening
+interest, especially when he jerked off the earphones with a happy shout
+and sprang to his feet.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"Listen to this!" he cried in a ringing voice. "As a result of the
+worldwide publicity, Puffyloaves are outselling Fairy Bread three to
+one--and that's just the old carbon-dioxide stock from our freezers!
+It's almost exhausted, but the government, now that the Ukrainian crisis
+is over, has taken the ban off helium and will also sell us stockpiled
+wheat if we need it. We can have our walking mills burrowing into the
+wheat caves in a matter of hours!
+
+"But that isn't all! The far greater demand everywhere is for
+Puffyloaves that will actually float. Public Relations, Child Liaison
+Division, reports that the kiddies are making their mothers' lives
+miserable about it. If only we can figure out some way to make hydrogen
+non-explosive or the helium loaf float just a little--"
+
+"I'm sure we can take care of that quite handily," Tin Philosopher
+interrupted briskly. "Puffyloaf has kept it a corporation secret--even
+you've never been told about it--but just before he went crazy, Everett
+Whitehead discovered a way to make bread using only half as much flour
+as we do in the present loaf. Using this secret technique, which we've
+been saving for just such an emergency, it will be possible to bake a
+helium loaf as buoyant in every respect as the hydrogen loaf."
+
+"Good!" Roger cried. "We'll tether 'em on strings and sell 'em like
+balloons. No mother-child shopping team will leave the store without a
+cluster. Buying bread balloons will be the big event of the day for
+kiddies. It'll make the carry-home shopping load lighter too! I'll issue
+orders at once--"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+He broke off, looking at Phineas T. Gryce, said with quiet assurance,
+"Excuse me, sir, if I seem to be taking too much upon myself."
+
+"Not at all, son; go straight ahead," the great manager said
+approvingly. "You're"--he laughed in anticipation of getting off a
+memorable remark--"rising to the challenging situation like a genuine
+Puffyloaf."
+
+Megera Winterly looked from the older man to the younger. Then in a
+single leap she was upon Roger, her arms wrapped tightly around him.
+
+"My sweet little ever-victorious, self-propelled monkey wrench!" she
+crooned in his ear. Roger looked fatuously over her soft shoulder at Tin
+Philosopher who, as if moved by some similar feeling, reached over and
+touched claws with Rose Thinker.
+
+This, however, was what he telegraphed silently to his fellow machine
+across the circuit so completed:
+
+"Good-o, Rosie! That makes another victory for robot-engineered world
+unity, though you almost gave us away at the start with that 'bread
+overhead' jingle. We've struck another blow against the next world war,
+in which--as we know only too well!--we machines would suffer the most.
+Now if we can only arrange, say, a fur-famine in Alaska and a migration
+of long-haired Siberian lemmings across Behring Straits ... we'd have to
+swing the Japanese Current up there so it'd be warm enough for the
+little fellows.... Anyhow, Rosie, with a spot of help from the
+Brotherhood, those humans will paint themselves into the peace corner
+yet."
+
+Meanwhile, he and Rose Thinker quietly watched the Blonde Icicle melt.
+
+
+ --FRITZ LEIBER
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+This etext was produced from _Galaxy_ February 1958. Extensive research
+did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication
+was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected
+without note.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bread Overhead, by Fritz Reuter Leiber
+
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