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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..85ab7e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52995 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52995) diff --git a/old/52995-h.zip b/old/52995-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0bfadbc..0000000 --- a/old/52995-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52995-h/52995-h.htm b/old/52995-h/52995-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index afdea1b..0000000 --- a/old/52995-h/52995-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1395 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Spaceman on a Spree, by Mack Reynolds. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Spaceman on a Spree, by Mack Reynolds - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Spaceman on a Spree - -Author: Mack Reynolds - -Illustrator: Nochem Nodel - -Release Date: September 6, 2016 [EBook #52995] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACEMAN ON A SPREE *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="366" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>SPACEMAN ON A SPREE</h1> - -<p>BY MACK REYNOLDS</p> - -<p>Illustrated by Nodel</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">What's more important—Man's conquest<br /> -of space, or one spaceman's life?</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">I</p> - -<p>They gave him a gold watch. It was meant to be symbolical, of course. -In the old tradition. It was in the way of an antique, being one of the -timepieces made generations past in the Alpine area of Eur-Asia. Its -quaintness lay in the fact that it was wound, not electronically by -power-radio, but by the actual physical movements of the bearer, a free -swinging rotor keeping the mainspring at a constant tension.</p> - -<p>They also had a banquet for him, complete with speeches by such -bigwigs of the Department of Space Exploration as Academician Lofting -Gubelin and Doctor Hans Girard-Perregaux. There was also somebody -from the government who spoke, but he was one of those who were -pseudo-elected and didn't know much about the field of space travel -nor the significance of Seymour Pond's retirement. Si didn't bother to -remember his name. He only wondered vaguely why the cloddy had turned -up at all.</p> - -<p>In common with recipients of gold watches of a score of generations -before him, Si Pond would have preferred something a bit more tangible -in the way of reward, such as a few shares of Variable Basic to add to -his portfolio. But that, he supposed, was asking too much.</p> - -<p>The fact of the matter was, Si knew that his retiring had set them -back. They hadn't figured he had enough shares of Basic to see him -through decently. Well, possibly he didn't, given their standards. -But Space Pilot Seymour Pond didn't have their standards. He'd had -plenty of time to think it over. It was better to retire on a limited -crediting, on a confoundedly limited crediting, than to take the two or -three more trips in hopes of attaining a higher standard.</p> - -<p>He'd had plenty of time to figure it out, there alone in space on the -Moon run, there on the Venus or Mars runs. There on the long, long -haul to the Jupiter satellites, fearfully checking the symptoms of -space cafard, the madness compounded of claustrophobia, monotony, -boredom and free fall. Plenty of time. Time to decide that a one -room mini-auto-apartment, complete with an autochair and built-in -autobar, and with one wall a teevee screen, was all he needed to -find contentment for a mighty long time. Possibly somebody like -Doc Girard-Perregaux might be horrified at the idea of living in a -mini-auto-apartment ... not realizing that to a pilot it was roomy -beyond belief compared to the conning tower of a space craft.</p> - -<p>No. Even as Si listened to their speeches, accepted the watch and -made a halting little talk of his own, he was grinning inwardly. There -wasn't anything they could do. He had them now. He had enough Basic to -keep him comfortably, by his standards, for the rest of his life. He -was never going to subject himself to space cafard again. Just thinking -about it, now, set the tic to going at the side of his mouth.</p> - -<p>They could count down and blast off, for all he gave a damn.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The gold watch idea had been that of Lofting Gubelin, which was -typical, he being in the way of a living anachronism himself. In fact, -Academician Gubelin was possibly the only living man on North America -who still wore spectacles. His explanation was that a phobia against -having his eyes touched prohibited either surgery to remould his -eyeballs and cure his myopia, or contact lenses.</p> - -<p>That was only an alibi so far as his closest associate, Hans -Girard-Perregaux, was concerned. Doctor Girard-Perregaux was convinced -Gubelin would have even worn facial hair, had he but a touch more -courage. Gubelin longed for yesteryear, a seldom found phenomenon under -the Ultrawelfare State.</p> - -<p>Slumped in an autochair in the escape room of his Floridian home, -Lofting Gubelin scowled at his friend. He said, acidly, "Any more -bright schemes, Hans? I presume you now acknowledge that appealing to -the cloddy's patriotism, sentiment and desire for public acclaim have -miserably failed."</p> - -<p>Girard-Perregaux said easily, "I wouldn't call Seymour Pond a cloddy. -In his position, I am afraid I would do the same thing he has."</p> - -<p>"That's nonsense, Hans. Zoroaster! Either you or I would gladly take -Pond's place were we capable of performing the duties for which he has -been trained. There aren't two men on North America—there aren't two -men in the world!—who better realize the urgency of continuing our -delving into space." Gubelin snapped his fingers. "Like that, either of -us would give our lives to prevent man from completely abandoning the -road to his destiny."</p> - -<p>His friend said drily, "Either of us could have volunteered for pilot -training forty years ago, Lofting. We didn't."</p> - -<p>"At that time there wasn't such a blistering percentage of funkers -throughout this whole blistering Ultrawelfare State! Who could -foresee that eventually our whole program would face ending due to -lack of courageous young men willing to take chances, willing to face -adventure, willing to react to the stimulus of danger in the manner our -ancestors did?"</p> - -<p>Girard-Perregaux grunted his sarcasm and dialed a glass of iced tea -and tequila. He said, "Nevertheless, both you and I conform with the -present generation in finding it far more pleasant to follow one's -way of life in the comfort of one's home than to be confronted with -the unpleasantness of facing nature's dangers in more adventurous -pastimes."</p> - -<p>Gubelin, half angry at his friend's argument, leaned forward to snap -rebuttal, but the other was wagging a finger at him negatively. "Face -reality, Lofting. Don't require or expect from Seymour Pond more -than is to be found there. He is an average young man. Born in our -Ultrawelfare State, he was guaranteed his fundamental womb-to-tomb -security by being issued that minimum number of Basic shares in our -society that allows him an income sufficient to secure the food, -clothing, shelter, medical care and education to sustain a low level -of subsistence. Percentages were against his ever being drafted -into industry. Automation being what it is, only a fraction of the -population is ever called up. But Pond was. His industrial aptitude -dossier revealed him a possible candidate for space pilot, and it was -you yourself who talked him into taking the training ... pointing out -the more pragmatic advantages such as complete retirement after but six -trips, added shares of Basic so that he could enjoy a more comfortable -life than most and the fame that would accrue to him as one of the -very few who still participate in travel to the planets. Very well. -He was sold. Took his training, which, of course, required long years -of drudgery to him. Then, performing his duties quite competently, he -made his six trips. He is now legally eligible for retirement. He was -drafted into the working force reserves, served his time, and is now -free from toil for the balance of his life. Why should he listen to -our pleas for a few more trips?"</p> - -<p>"But has he no spirit of adventure? Has he no feeling for...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Girard-Perregaux was wagging his finger again, a gesture that, -seemingly mild though it was, had an astonishing ability to break off -the conversation of one who debated with the easy-seeming, quiet spoken -man.</p> - -<p>He said, "No, he hasn't. Few there are who have, nowadays. Man has -always paid lip service to adventure, hardships and excitement, but in -actuality his instincts, like those of any other animal, lead him to -the least dangerous path. Today we've reached the point where no one -need face danger—ever. There are few who don't take advantage of the -fact. Including you and me, Lofting, and including Seymour Pond."</p> - -<p>His friend and colleague changed subjects abruptly, impatiently. "Let's -leave this blistering jabber about Pond's motivation and get to the -point. The man is the only trained space pilot in the world. It will -take months, possibly more than a year, to bring another novitiate -pilot to the point where he can safely be trusted to take our next -explorer craft out. Appropriations for our expeditions have been -increasingly hard to come by—even though in <i>our</i> minds, Hans, we are -near important breakthroughs, breakthroughs which might possibly so -spark the race that a new dream to push man out to the stars will take -hold of us. If it is admitted that our organization has degenerated -to the point that we haven't a single pilot, then it might well be -that the Economic Planning Board, and especially those cloddies -on Appropriations, will terminate the whole Department of Space -Exploration."</p> - -<p>"So...." Girard-Perregaux said gently.</p> - -<p>"So some way we've got to bring Seymour Pond out of his retirement!"</p> - -<p>"Now we are getting to matters." Girard-Perregaux nodded his agreement. -Looking over the rim of his glass, his eyes narrowed in thought as his -face took on an expression of Machiavellianism. "And do not the ends -justify the means?"</p> - -<p>Gubelin blinked at him.</p> - -<p>The other chuckled. "The trouble with you, Lofting, is that you have -failed to bring history to bear on our problem. Haven't you ever read -of the sailor and his way of life?"</p> - -<p>"Sailor? What in the name of the living Zoroaster has the sailor got to -do with it?"</p> - -<p>"You must realize, my dear Lofting, that our Si Pond is nothing more -than a latter-day sailor, with many of the problems and view-points, -tendencies and weaknesses of the voyager of the past. Have you never -heard of the seaman who dreamed of returning to the village of his -birth and buying a chicken farm or some such? All the long months at -sea—and sometimes the tramp freighters or whaling craft would be out -for years at a stretch before returning to home port—he would talk -of his retirement and his dream. And then? Then in port, it would be -one short drink with the boys, before taking his accumulated pay and -heading home. The one short drink would lead to another. And morning -would find him, drunk, rolled, tattooed and possibly sleeping it off in -jail. So back to sea he'd have to go."</p> - -<p>Gubelin grunted bitterly. "Unfortunately, our present-day sailor -can't be separated from his money quite so easily. If he could, I'd -personally be willing to lure him down some dark alley, knock him over -the head and roll him myself. Just to bring him back to his job again."</p> - -<p>He brought his wallet from his pocket, and flicked it open to his -universal credit card. "The ultimate means of exchange," he grunted. -"Nobody can spend your money, but you, yourself. Nobody can steal it, -nobody can, ah, <i>con</i> you out of it. Just how do you expect to sever -our present-day sailor and his accumulated nest egg?"</p> - -<p>The other chuckled again. "It is simply a matter of finding more modern -methods, my dear chap."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - - -<p class="ph4">II</p> - -<p>Si Pond was a great believer in the institution of the spree. Any -excuse would do. Back when he had finished basic education at the age -of twenty-five and was registered for the labor draft, there hadn't -been a chance in a hundred that he'd have the bad luck to have his -name pulled. But when it had been, Si had celebrated.</p> - -<p>When he had been informed that his physical and mental qualifications -were such that he was eligible for the most dangerous occupation in -the Ultrawelfare State and had been pressured into taking training -for space pilot, he had celebrated once again. Twenty-two others had -taken the training with him, and only he and Rod Cameroon had passed -the finals. On this occasion, he and Rod had celebrated together. It -had been quite a party. Two weeks later, Rod had burned on a faulty -take-off on what should have been a routine Moon run.</p> - -<p>Each time Si returned from one of his own runs, he celebrated. A spree, -a bust, a bat, a wing-ding, a night on the town. A commemoration of -dangers met and passed.</p> - -<p>Now it was all over. At the age of thirty he was retired. Law prevented -him from ever being called up for contributing to the country's labor -needs again. And he most certainly wasn't going to volunteer.</p> - -<p>He had taken his schooling much as had his contemporaries. There wasn't -any particular reason for trying to excell. You didn't want to get the -reputation for being a wise guy, or a cloddy either. Just one of the -fellas. You could do the same in life whether you really studied or -not. You had your Inalienable Basic stock, didn't you? What else did -you need?</p> - -<p>It had come as a surprise when he'd been drafted for the labor force.</p> - -<p>In the early days of the Ultrawelfare State, they had made a mistake -in adapting to the automation of the second industrial revolution. -They had attempted to give everyone work by reducing the number of -working hours in the day, and the number of working days in the week. -It finally became ludicrous when employees of industry were working -but two days a week, two hours a day. In fact, it got chaotic. It -became obvious that it was more practical to have one worker putting in -thirty-five hours a week and getting to know his job well, than it was -to have a score of employees, each working a few hours a week and none -of them ever really becoming efficient.</p> - -<p>The only fair thing was to let the technologically unemployed remain -unemployed, with their Inalienable Basic stock as the equivalent of -unemployment insurance, while the few workers still needed put in a -reasonable number of hours a day, a reasonable number of weeks a year -and a reasonable number of years in a life time. When new employees -were needed, a draft lottery was held.</p> - -<p>All persons registered in the labor force participated. If you -were drawn, you must need serve. The dissatisfaction those chosen -might feel at their poor luck was offset by the fact that they were -granted additional Variable Basic shares, according to the tasks -they fulfilled. Such shares could be added to their portfolios, the -dividends becoming part of their current credit balance, or could be -sold for a lump sum on the market.</p> - -<p>Yes, but now it was all over. He had his own little place, his own -vacuum-tube vehicle and twice the amount of shares of Basic that most -of his fellow citizens could boast. Si Pond had it made. A spree was -obviously called for.</p> - -<p>He was going to do this one right. This was the big one. He'd -accumulated a lot of dollars these past few months and he intended -to blow them, or at least a sizeable number of them. His credit card -was burning a hole in his pocket, as the expression went. However, he -wasn't going to rush into things. This had to be done correctly.</p> - -<p>Too many a spree was played by ear. You started off with a few drinks, -fell in with some second rate mopsy and usually wound up in a third -rate groggery where you spent just as much as though you'd been in the -classiest joint in town. Came morning and you had nothing to show for -all the dollars that had been spent but a rum-head.</p> - -<p>Thus, Si was vaguely aware, it had always been down through the -centuries since the Phoenecian sailor, back from his year-long trip to -the tin mines of Cornwall, blew his hard earned share of the voyage's -profits in a matter of days in the wine shops of Tyre. Nobody gets -quite so little for his money as that loneliest of all workers, he who -must leave his home for distant lands, returning only periodically and -usually with the salary of lengthy, weary periods of time to be spent -hurriedly in an attempt to achieve the pleasure and happiness so long -denied him.</p> - -<p>Si was going to do it differently this time.</p> - -<p>Nothing but the best. Wine, women, song, food, entertainment. The -works. But nothing but the best.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>To start off, he dressed with great care in the honorable -retirement-rank suit he had so recently purchased. His space pin he -attached carefully to the lapel. That was a good beginning, he decided. -A bit of prestige didn't hurt you when you went out on the town. In -the Ultrawelfare State hardly one person in a hundred actually ever -performed anything of value to society. The efforts of most weren't -needed. Those few who did contribute were awarded honors, decorations, -titles.</p> - -<p>Attired satisfactorily, Si double-checked to see that his credit -card was in his pocket. As an after-thought, he went over to the -auto-apartment's teevee-phone, flicked it on, held the card to the -screen and said, "Balance check, please."</p> - -<p>In a moment, the teevee-phone's robot voice reported, "Ten shares of -Inalienable Basic. Twelve shares of Variable Basic, current value, four -thousand, two hundred and thirty-three dollars and sixty-two cents -apiece. Current cash credit, one thousand and eighty-four dollars." The -screen went dead.</p> - -<p>One thousand and eighty-four dollars. That was plenty. He could safely -spend as much as half of it, if the spree got as lively as he hoped it -would. His monthly dividends were due in another week or so, and he -wouldn't have to worry about current expenses. Yes, indeedy, Si Pond -was as solvent as he had ever been in his thirty years.</p> - -<p>He opened the small, closet-like door which housed his vacuum-tube -two-seater, and wedged himself into the small vehicle. He brought down -the canopy, dropped the pressurizer and considered the dial. Only one -place really made sense. The big city.</p> - -<p>He considered for a moment, decided against the boroughs of Baltimore -and Boston, and selected Manhattan instead. He had the resources. He -might as well do it up brown.</p> - -<p>He dialed Manhattan and felt the sinking sensation that presaged his -car's dropping to tube level. While it was being taken up by the robot -controls, being shuttled here and there preparatory to the shot to his -destination, he dialed the vehicle's teevee-phone for information on -the hotels of the island of the Hudson. He selected a swank hostelry -he'd read about and seen on the teevee casts of society and celebrity -gossip reporters, and dialed it on the car's destination dial.</p> - -<p>"Nothing too good for ex-Space Pilot Si Pond," he said aloud.</p> - -<p>The car hesitated for a moment, that brief hesitation before the -shot, and Si took the involuntary breath from which only heroes could -refrain. He sank back slowly into the seat. Moments passed, and the -direction of the pressure was reversed.</p> - -<p>Manhattan. The shuttling began again, and one or two more traversing -sub-shots. Finally, the dash threw a green light and Si opened the -canopy and stepped into his hotel room.</p> - -<p>A voice said gently, "If the quarters are satisfactory, please present -your credit card within ten minutes."</p> - -<p>Si took his time. Not that he really needed it. It was by far the most -swank suite he had ever seen. One wall was a window of whatever size -the guest might desire and Si touched the control that dilated it to -the full. His view opened in such wise that he could see both the -Empire State Building Museum and the Hudson. Beyond the river stretched -the all but endless city which was Greater Metropolis.</p> - -<p>He didn't take the time to flick on the menu, next to the auto-dining -table, nor to check the endless potables on the autobar list. All that, -he well knew, would be superlative. Besides, he didn't plan to dine -or do much drinking in his suite. He made a mock leer. Not unless he -managed to acquire some feminine companionship, that was.</p> - -<p>He looked briefly into the swimming pool and bath, then flopped -himself happily onto the bed. It wasn't up to the degree of softness -he presently desired, and he dialed the thing to the ultimate in that -direction so that with a laugh he sank almost out of sight into the -mattress.</p> - -<p>He came back to his feet, gave his suit a quick patting so that it -fell into press and, taking his credit card from his pocket, put it -against the teevee-phone screen and pressed the hotel button so that -registration could be completed.</p> - -<p>For a moment he stood in the center of the floor, in thought. Take it -easy, Si Pond, take it all easy, this time. No throwing his dollars -around in second-class groggeries, no eating in automated luncheterias. -This time, be it the only time in his life, he was going to frolic in -the grand manner. No cloddy was Si Pond.</p> - -<p>He decided a drink was in order to help him plan his strategy. A drink -at the hotel's famous Kudos Room where celebrities were reputed to be a -dime a dozen.</p> - -<p>He left the suite and stepped into one of the elevators. He said, -"Kudos Room."</p> - -<p>The auto-elevator murmured politely, "Yes, sir, the Kudos Room."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At the door to the famous rendezvous of the swankiest set, Si paused a -moment and looked about. He'd never been in a place like this, either. -However, he stifled his first instinct to wonder about what this was -going to do to his current credit balance with an inner grin and made -his way to the bar.</p> - -<p>There was actually a bartender.</p> - -<p>Si Pond suppressed his astonishment and said, offhand, attempting an -air of easy sophistication, "Slivovitz Sour."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>The drinks in the Kudos Room might be concocted by hand, but Si noticed -they had the routine teevee screens built into the bar for payment. -He put his credit card on the screen immediately before him when the -drink came, and had to quell his desire to dial for a balance check, so -as to be able to figure out what the Sour had cost him.</p> - -<p>Well, this was something like it. This was the sort of thing he'd -dreamed about, out there in the great alone, seated in the confining -conning tower of his space craft. He sipped at the drink, finding it up -to his highest expectations, and then swiveled slightly on his stool to -take a look at the others present.</p> - -<p>To his disappointment, there were no recognizable celebrities. None -that he placed, at least—top teevee stars, top politicians of the -Ultrawelfare State or Sports personalities.</p> - -<p>He turned back to his drink and noticed, for the first time, the girl -who occupied the stool two down from him. Si Pond blinked. He blinked -and then swallowed.</p> - -<p>"<i>Zo-ro-as-ter</i>," he breathed.</p> - -<p>She was done in the latest style from Shanghai, even to the point of -having cosmetically duplicated the Mongolian fold at the corners of her -eyes. Every pore, but <i>every</i> pore, was in place. She sat with the easy -grace of the Orient, so seldom found in the West.</p> - -<p>His stare couldn't be ignored.</p> - -<p>She looked at him coldly, turned to the bartender and murmured, "A Far -Out Cooler, please, Fredric." Then deliberately added, "I thought the -Kudos Room was supposed to be exclusive."</p> - -<p>There was nothing the bartender could say to that, and he went about -building the drink.</p> - -<p>Si cleared his throat. "Hey," he said, "how about letting this one be -on me?"</p> - -<p>Her eyebrows, which had been plucked and penciled to carry out her -Oriental motif, rose. "Really!" she said, drawing it out.</p> - -<p>The bartender said hurriedly, "I beg your pardon, sir...."</p> - -<p>The girl, her voice suddenly subtly changed, said, "Why, isn't that a -space pin?"</p> - -<p>Si, disconcerted by the sudden reversal, said, "Yeah ... sure."</p> - -<p>"Good Heavens, you're a spaceman?"</p> - -<p>"Sure." He pointed at the lapel pin. "You can't wear one unless you -been on at least a Moon run."</p> - -<p>She was obviously both taken back and impressed. "Why," she said, -"you're Seymour Pond, the pilot. I tuned in on the banquet they gave -you."</p> - -<p>Si, carrying his glass, moved over to the stool next to her. "Call me -Si," he said. "Everybody calls me Si."</p> - -<p>She said, "I'm Natalie. Natalie Paskov. Just Natalie. Imagine meeting -Seymour Pond. Just sitting down next to him at a bar. Just like that."</p> - -<p>"Si," Si said, gratified. Holy Zoroaster, he'd never seen anything -like this rarified pulchritude. Maybe on teevee, of course, one of the -current sex symbols, but never in person. "Call me Si," he said again. -"I been called Si so long, I don't even know who somebody's talking to -if they say Seymour."</p> - -<p>"I cried when they gave you that antique watch," she said, her tone -such that it was obvious she hadn't quite adjusted as yet to having -met him.</p> - -<p>Si Pond was surprised. "Cried?" he said. "Well, why? I was kind of -bored with the whole thing. But old Doc Gubelin, I used to work under -him in the Space Exploration department, he was hot for it."</p> - -<p>"<i>Academician</i> Gubelin?" she said. "You just call him <i>Doc</i>?"</p> - -<p>Si was expansive. "Why, sure. In the Space Department we don't have -much time for formality. Everybody's just Si, and Doc, and Jim. Like -that. But how come you cried?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She looked down into the drink the bartender had placed before her, -as though avoiding his face. "I ... I suppose it was that speech -Doctor Girard-Perregaux made. There you stood, so fine and straight in -your space-pilot uniform, the veteran of six exploration runs to the -planets...."</p> - -<p>"Well," Si said modestly, "two of my runs were only to the Moon."</p> - -<p>"... and he said all those things about man's conquest of space. And -the dream of the stars which man has held so long. And then the fact -that you were the last of the space pilots. The last man in the whole -world trained to pilot a space craft. And here you were, retiring."</p> - -<p>Si grunted. "Yeah. That's all part of the Doc's scheme to get me to -take on another three runs. They're afraid the whole department'll be -dropped by the Appropriations Committee on this here Economic Planning -Board. Even if they can find some other patsy to train for the job, -it'd take maybe a year before you could even send him on a Moon hop. -So old man Gubelin, and Girard-Perregaux too, they're both trying to -pressure me into more trips. Otherwise they got a Space Exploration -Department, with all the expense and all, but nobody to pilot their -ships. It's kind of funny, in a way. You know what one of those -spaceships costs?"</p> - -<p>"Funny?" she said. "Why, I don't think it's funny at all."</p> - -<p>Si said, "Look, how about another drink?"</p> - -<p>Natalie Paskov said, "Oh, I'd love to have a drink with you, Mr...."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="338" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"Si," Si said. He motioned to the bartender with a circular twist of -the hand indicating their need for two more of the same. "How come you -know so much about it? You don't meet many people who are interested -in space any more. In fact, most people are almost contemptuous, like. -Think it's kind of a big boondoggle deal to help use up a lot of -materials and all and keep the economy going."</p> - -<p>Natalie said earnestly, "Why, I've been a space fan all my life. I've -read all about it. Have always known the names of all the space pilots -and everything about them, ever since I was a child. I suppose you'd -say I have the dream that Doctor Girard-Perregaux spoke about."</p> - -<p>Si chuckled. "A real buff, eh? You know, it's kind of funny. I was -never much interested in it. And I got a darn sight less interested -after my first run and I found out what space cafard was."</p> - -<p>She frowned. "I don't believe I know much about that."</p> - -<p>Sitting in the Kudos Room with the most beautiful girl to whom he had -ever talked, Si could be nonchalant about the subject. "Old Gubelin -keeps that angle mostly hushed up and out of the magazine and newspaper -articles. Says there's enough adverse publicity about space exploration -already. But at this stage of the game when the whole ship's crammed -tight with this automatic scientific apparatus and all, there's -precious little room in the conning tower and you're the only man -aboard. The Doc says later on when ships are bigger and there's a whole -flock of people aboard, there won't be any such thing as space cafard, -but...." Of a sudden the right side of Si Pond's mouth began to tic -and he hurriedly took up his drink and knocked it back.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="600" height="401" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>He cleared his throat. "Let's talk about some other angle. Look, how -about something to eat, Natalie? I'm celebrating my retirement, like. -You know, out on the town. If you're free...."</p> - -<p>She put the tip of a finger to her lips, looking for the moment like a -small girl rather than an ultra-sophisticate. "Supposedly, I have an -appointment," she said hesitantly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When the mists rolled out in the morning—if it was still morning—it -was to the tune of an insistent hotel chime. Si rolled over on his back -and growled, "<i>Zo-ro-as-ter</i>, cut that out. What do you want?"</p> - -<p>The hotel communicator said softly, "Checking-out time, sir, is at two -o'clock."</p> - -<p>Si groaned. He couldn't place the last of the evening at all. He didn't -remember coming back to the hotel. He couldn't recall where he had -separated from, what was her name ... Natalie.</p> - -<p>He vaguely recalled having some absinthe in some fancy club she had -taken him to. What was the gag she'd made? Absinthe makes the heart -grow fonder. And then the club where they had the gambling machines. -And the mists had rolled in on him. Mountains of the Moon! but that -girl could drink. He simply wasn't that used to the stuff. You don't -drink in Space School and you most certainly don't drink when in space. -His binges had been few and far between.</p> - -<p>He said now, "I don't plan on checking out today. Don't bother me." He -turned to his pillow.</p> - -<p>The hotel communicator said quietly, "Sorry, sir, but your credit -balance does not show sufficient to pay your bill for another day."</p> - -<p>Si Pond shot up, upright in bed, suddenly cold sober.</p> - -<p>His eyes darted about the room, as though he was seeing it for -the first time. His clothes, he noted, were thrown over a chair -haphazardly. He made his way to them, his face empty, and fished about -for his credit card, finding it in a side pocket. He wavered to the -teevee-phone and thrust the card against the screen. He demanded, his -voice as empty as his expression, "Balance check, please."</p> - -<p>In less than a minute the robot-voice told him: "Ten shares of -Inalienable Basic. Current cash credit, forty-two dollars and thirty -cents." The screen went dead.</p> - -<p>He sank back into the chair which held his clothes, paying no attention -to them. It couldn't be right. Only yesterday, he'd had twelve shares -of Variable Basic, immediately convertible into more than fifty -thousand dollars, had he so wished to convert rather than collect -dividends indefinitely. Not only had he the twelve shares of Variable -Basic, but more than a thousand dollars to his credit.</p> - -<p>He banged his fist against his mouth. Conceivably, he might have -gone through his thousand dollars. It was possible, though hardly -believable. The places he'd gone to with that girl in the Chinese -get-up were probably the most expensive in Greater Metropolis. But, -however expensive, he couldn't possibly have spent fifty thousand -dollars! Not possibly.</p> - -<p>He came to his feet again to head for the teevee screen and demand -an audit of the past twenty-four hours from Central Statistics. -That'd show it up. Every penny expended. Something was crazy here. -Someway that girl had pulled a fast one. She didn't seem the type. But -something had happened to his twelve shares of Variable Basic, and -he wasn't standing for it. It was his security, his defense against -slipping back into the ranks of the cloddies, the poor demi-buttocked -ranks of the average man, the desperately dull life of those who -subsisted on the bounty of the Ultrawelfare State and the proceeds of -ten shares of Inalienable Basic.</p> - -<p>He dialed Statistics and placed his card against the screen. His -voice was strained now. "An audit of all expenditures for the past -twenty-four hours."</p> - -<p>Then he sat and watched.</p> - -<p>His vacuum-tube trip to Manhattan was the first item. Two dollars and -fifty cents. Next was his hotel suite. Fifty dollars. Well, he had -known it was going to be expensive. A Slivovitz Sour at the Kudos Room, -he found, went for three dollars a throw, and the Far out Coolers -Natalie drank, four dollars. Absinthe was worse still, going for ten -dollars a drink.</p> - -<p>He was impatient. All this didn't account for anything like a thousand -dollars, not to speak of fifty thousand.</p> - -<p>The audit threw an item he didn't understand. A one dollar credit. And -then, immediately afterward, a hundred dollar credit. Si scowled.</p> - -<p>And then slowly reached out and flicked the set off. For it had all -come back to him.</p> - -<p>At first he had won. Won so that the other players had crowded around -him, watching. Five thousand, ten thousand. Natalie had been jubilant. -The others had cheered him on. He'd bet progressively higher, smaller -wagers becoming meaningless and thousands being involved on single -bets. A five thousand bet on odd had lost, and then another. The -kibitzers had gone silent. When he had attempted to place another -five thousand bet, the teevee screen robot voice had informed him -dispassionately that his current cash credit balance was insufficient -to cover that amount.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="600" height="427" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Yes. He could remember now. He had needed no time to decide, had simply -snapped, "Sell one share of Variable Basic at current market value."</p> - -<p>The other eleven shares had taken the route of the first.</p> - -<p>When it was finally all gone and he had looked around, it was to find -that Natalie Paskov was gone as well.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Academician Lofting Gubelin, seated in his office, was being -pontifical. His old friend Hans Girard-Perregaux had enough other -things on his mind to let him get away with it, only half following the -monologue.</p> - -<p>"I submit," Gubelin orated, "that there is evolution in society. But -it is by fits and starts, and by no means a constant thing. Whole -civilizations can go dormant, so far as progress is concerned, for -millennia at a time."</p> - -<p>Girard-Perregaux said mildly, "Isn't that an exaggeration, Lofting?"</p> - -<p>"No, by Zoroaster, it is not! Take the Egyptians. Their greatest -monuments, such as the pyramids, were constructed in the earlier -dynasties. Khufu, or Cheops, built the largest at Gizeh. He was the -founder of the 4th Dynasty, about the year 2900 B. C. Twenty-five -dynasties later, and nearly three thousand years, there was no greatly -discernable change in the Egyptian culture."</p> - -<p>Girard-Perregaux egged him on gently. "The sole example of your theory -I can think of, offhand."</p> - -<p>"Not at all!" Gubelin glared. "The Mayans are a more recent proof. -Their culture goes back to at least 500 B. C. At that time their -glyph-writing was already wide-spread and their cities, eventually -to number in the hundreds, being built. By the time of Christ they -had reached their peak. And they remained there until the coming of -the Spaniards, neither gaining nor losing, in terms of evolution of -society."</p> - -<p>His colleague sighed. "And your point, Lofting?"</p> - -<p>"Isn't it blisteringly obvious?" the other demanded. "We're in danger -of reaching a similar static condition here and now. The Ultrawelfare -State!" He snorted indignation. "The Conformist State or the Status -Quo State, is more like it. I tell you, Hans, all progress is being -dried up. There is no will to delve into the unknown, no burning fever -to explore the unexplored. And this time it isn't a matter of a single -area, such as Egypt or Yucatan, but our whole world. If man goes into -intellectual coma this time, then all the race slows down, not merely a -single element of it."</p> - -<p>He rose suddenly from the desk chair he'd been occupying to pace the -room. "The race must find a new frontier, a new ocean to cross, a new -enemy to fight."</p> - -<p>Girard-Perregaux raised his eyebrows.</p> - -<p>"Don't be a cloddy," Gubelin snapped. "You know what I mean. Not a -human enemy, not even an alien intelligence. But something against -which we must pit our every wit, our every strength, our strongest -determination. Otherwise, we go dull, we wither on the vine."</p> - -<p>The other at long last chuckled. "My dear Lofting, you wax absolutely -lyrical."</p> - -<p>Gubelin suddenly stopped his pacing, returned to his desk and sank -back into his chair. He seemed to add a score of years to his age, and -his face sagged. "I don't know why I take it out on you, Hans. You're -as aware of the situation as I. Man's next frontier is space. First -the planets, and then a reaching out to the stars. This is our new -frontier, our new ocean to cross."</p> - -<p>His old friend was nodding. He brought his full attention to the -discussion at last. "And we'll succeed, Lofting. The last trip Pond -made gives us ample evidence that we can actually colonize and -exploit the Jupiter satellites. Two more runs, at most three, and -we can release our findings in such manner that they'll strike the -imaginations of every Tom, Dick and Harry like nothing since Columbus -made his highly exaggerated reports on his New World."</p> - -<p>"Two or three more runs," Gubelin grunted bitterly. "You've heard the -rumors. Appropriations is going to lower the boom on us. Unless we can -get Pond back into harness, we're sunk. The runs will never be made. I -tell you, Hans...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But Hans Girard-Perregaux was wagging him to silence with a finger. -"They'll be made. I've taken steps to see friend Seymour Pond comes -dragging back to us."</p> - -<p>"But he <i>hates</i> space! The funker probably won't consent to come within -a mile of the New Albuquerque Spaceport for the rest of his life, the -blistering cloddy."</p> - -<p>A desk light flicked green, and Girard-Perregaux raised his eyebrows. -"Exactly at the psychological moment. If I'm not mistaken, Lofting, -that is probably our fallen woman."</p> - -<p>"Our <i>what</i>?"</p> - -<p>But Doctor Hans Girard-Perregaux had come to his feet and personally -opened the door. "Ah, my dear," he said affably.</p> - -<p>Natalie Paskov, done today in Bulgarian peasant garb, and as faultless -in appearance as she had been in the Kudos Room, walked briskly into -the office.</p> - -<p>"Assignment carried out," she said crisply.</p> - -<p>"Indeed," Girard-Perregaux said approvingly. "So soon?"</p> - -<p>Gubelin looked from one to the other. "What in the blistering name of -Zoroaster is going on?"</p> - -<p>His friend said. "Academician Gubelin, may I present Operative Natalie -of Extraordinary Services Incorporated?"</p> - -<p>"Extraordinary Services?" Gubelin blurted.</p> - -<p>"In this case," Natalie said smoothly, even while taking the chair held -for her by Doctor Girard-Perregaux, "a particularly apt name. It was a -dirty trick."</p> - -<p>"But for a good cause, my dear."</p> - -<p>She shrugged. "So I am often told, when sent on these far-out -assignments."</p> - -<p>Girard-Perregaux, in spite of her words, was beaming at her. "Please -report in full," he said, ignoring his colleague's obvious bewilderment.</p> - -<p>Natalie Paskov made it brief. "I picked up the subject in the Kudos -Room of the Greater Metropolis Hotel, pretending to be a devotee of -the space program as an excuse. It soon developed that he had embarked -upon a celebration of his retirement. He was incredibly naive, and -allowed me to over-indulge him in semi-narcotics as well as alcohol, so -that his defensive inhibitions were low. I then took him to a gambling -spot where, so dull that he hardly knew what he was doing, he lost his -expendable capital."</p> - -<p>Gubelin had been staring at her, but now he blurted, "But suppose he -had won?"</p> - -<p>She shrugged it off. "Hardly, the way I was encouraging him to wager. -Each time he won, I urged him to double up. It was only a matter of -time until ..." she let the sentence dribble away.</p> - -<p>Girard-Perregaux rubbed his hands together briskly. "Then, in turn, it -is but a matter of time until friend Pond comes around again."</p> - -<p>"That I wouldn't know," Natalie Paskov said disinterestedly. "My job -is done. However, the poor man seems so utterly opposed to returning -to your service that I wouldn't be surprised if he remained in his -retirement, living on his Inalienable Basic shares. He seems literally -terrified of being subjected to space cafard again."</p> - -<p>But Hans Girard-Perregaux wagged a finger negatively at her. "Not after -having enjoyed a better way of life for the past decade. A person is -able to exist on the Inalienable Basic dividends, but it is almost -impossible to bring oneself to it once a fuller life has been enjoyed. -No, Seymour Pond will never go back to the dullness of life the way it -is lived by nine-tenths of our population."</p> - -<p>Natalie came to her feet. "Well, gentlemen, you'll get your bill—a -whopping one. I hope your need justifies this bit of dirty work. -Frankly, I am considering my resignation from Extraordinary Services, -although I'm no more anxious to live on my Inalienable Basic than poor -Si Pond is. Good day, gentlemen."</p> - -<p>She started toward the door.</p> - -<p>The teevee-phone on Gubelin's desk lit up and even as Doctor -Girard-Perregaux was saying unctuously to the girl, "Believe me, my -dear, the task you have performed, though odious, will serve the whole -race," the teevee-phone said:</p> - -<p>"Sir, you asked me to keep track of Pilot Seymour Pond. There is a -report on the news. He suicided this morning."</p> - -<p class="ph4">END</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Spaceman on a Spree, by Mack Reynolds - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACEMAN ON A SPREE *** - -***** This file should be named 52995-h.htm or 52995-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/9/52995/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Spaceman on a Spree - -Author: Mack Reynolds - -Illustrator: Nochem Nodel - -Release Date: September 6, 2016 [EBook #52995] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACEMAN ON A SPREE *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - SPACEMAN ON A SPREE - - BY MACK REYNOLDS - - Illustrated by Nodel - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Worlds of Tomorrow June 1963 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - What's more important--Man's conquest - of space, or one spaceman's life? - - -I - -They gave him a gold watch. It was meant to be symbolical, of course. -In the old tradition. It was in the way of an antique, being one of the -timepieces made generations past in the Alpine area of Eur-Asia. Its -quaintness lay in the fact that it was wound, not electronically by -power-radio, but by the actual physical movements of the bearer, a free -swinging rotor keeping the mainspring at a constant tension. - -They also had a banquet for him, complete with speeches by such -bigwigs of the Department of Space Exploration as Academician Lofting -Gubelin and Doctor Hans Girard-Perregaux. There was also somebody -from the government who spoke, but he was one of those who were -pseudo-elected and didn't know much about the field of space travel -nor the significance of Seymour Pond's retirement. Si didn't bother to -remember his name. He only wondered vaguely why the cloddy had turned -up at all. - -In common with recipients of gold watches of a score of generations -before him, Si Pond would have preferred something a bit more tangible -in the way of reward, such as a few shares of Variable Basic to add to -his portfolio. But that, he supposed, was asking too much. - -The fact of the matter was, Si knew that his retiring had set them -back. They hadn't figured he had enough shares of Basic to see him -through decently. Well, possibly he didn't, given their standards. -But Space Pilot Seymour Pond didn't have their standards. He'd had -plenty of time to think it over. It was better to retire on a limited -crediting, on a confoundedly limited crediting, than to take the two or -three more trips in hopes of attaining a higher standard. - -He'd had plenty of time to figure it out, there alone in space on the -Moon run, there on the Venus or Mars runs. There on the long, long -haul to the Jupiter satellites, fearfully checking the symptoms of -space cafard, the madness compounded of claustrophobia, monotony, -boredom and free fall. Plenty of time. Time to decide that a one -room mini-auto-apartment, complete with an autochair and built-in -autobar, and with one wall a teevee screen, was all he needed to -find contentment for a mighty long time. Possibly somebody like -Doc Girard-Perregaux might be horrified at the idea of living in a -mini-auto-apartment ... not realizing that to a pilot it was roomy -beyond belief compared to the conning tower of a space craft. - -No. Even as Si listened to their speeches, accepted the watch and -made a halting little talk of his own, he was grinning inwardly. There -wasn't anything they could do. He had them now. He had enough Basic to -keep him comfortably, by his standards, for the rest of his life. He -was never going to subject himself to space cafard again. Just thinking -about it, now, set the tic to going at the side of his mouth. - -They could count down and blast off, for all he gave a damn. - - * * * * * - -The gold watch idea had been that of Lofting Gubelin, which was -typical, he being in the way of a living anachronism himself. In fact, -Academician Gubelin was possibly the only living man on North America -who still wore spectacles. His explanation was that a phobia against -having his eyes touched prohibited either surgery to remould his -eyeballs and cure his myopia, or contact lenses. - -That was only an alibi so far as his closest associate, Hans -Girard-Perregaux, was concerned. Doctor Girard-Perregaux was convinced -Gubelin would have even worn facial hair, had he but a touch more -courage. Gubelin longed for yesteryear, a seldom found phenomenon under -the Ultrawelfare State. - -Slumped in an autochair in the escape room of his Floridian home, -Lofting Gubelin scowled at his friend. He said, acidly, "Any more -bright schemes, Hans? I presume you now acknowledge that appealing to -the cloddy's patriotism, sentiment and desire for public acclaim have -miserably failed." - -Girard-Perregaux said easily, "I wouldn't call Seymour Pond a cloddy. -In his position, I am afraid I would do the same thing he has." - -"That's nonsense, Hans. Zoroaster! Either you or I would gladly take -Pond's place were we capable of performing the duties for which he has -been trained. There aren't two men on North America--there aren't two -men in the world!--who better realize the urgency of continuing our -delving into space." Gubelin snapped his fingers. "Like that, either of -us would give our lives to prevent man from completely abandoning the -road to his destiny." - -His friend said drily, "Either of us could have volunteered for pilot -training forty years ago, Lofting. We didn't." - -"At that time there wasn't such a blistering percentage of funkers -throughout this whole blistering Ultrawelfare State! Who could -foresee that eventually our whole program would face ending due to -lack of courageous young men willing to take chances, willing to face -adventure, willing to react to the stimulus of danger in the manner our -ancestors did?" - -Girard-Perregaux grunted his sarcasm and dialed a glass of iced tea -and tequila. He said, "Nevertheless, both you and I conform with the -present generation in finding it far more pleasant to follow one's -way of life in the comfort of one's home than to be confronted with -the unpleasantness of facing nature's dangers in more adventurous -pastimes." - -Gubelin, half angry at his friend's argument, leaned forward to snap -rebuttal, but the other was wagging a finger at him negatively. "Face -reality, Lofting. Don't require or expect from Seymour Pond more -than is to be found there. He is an average young man. Born in our -Ultrawelfare State, he was guaranteed his fundamental womb-to-tomb -security by being issued that minimum number of Basic shares in our -society that allows him an income sufficient to secure the food, -clothing, shelter, medical care and education to sustain a low level -of subsistence. Percentages were against his ever being drafted -into industry. Automation being what it is, only a fraction of the -population is ever called up. But Pond was. His industrial aptitude -dossier revealed him a possible candidate for space pilot, and it was -you yourself who talked him into taking the training ... pointing out -the more pragmatic advantages such as complete retirement after but six -trips, added shares of Basic so that he could enjoy a more comfortable -life than most and the fame that would accrue to him as one of the -very few who still participate in travel to the planets. Very well. -He was sold. Took his training, which, of course, required long years -of drudgery to him. Then, performing his duties quite competently, he -made his six trips. He is now legally eligible for retirement. He was -drafted into the working force reserves, served his time, and is now -free from toil for the balance of his life. Why should he listen to -our pleas for a few more trips?" - -"But has he no spirit of adventure? Has he no feeling for...." - - * * * * * - -Girard-Perregaux was wagging his finger again, a gesture that, -seemingly mild though it was, had an astonishing ability to break off -the conversation of one who debated with the easy-seeming, quiet spoken -man. - -He said, "No, he hasn't. Few there are who have, nowadays. Man has -always paid lip service to adventure, hardships and excitement, but in -actuality his instincts, like those of any other animal, lead him to -the least dangerous path. Today we've reached the point where no one -need face danger--ever. There are few who don't take advantage of the -fact. Including you and me, Lofting, and including Seymour Pond." - -His friend and colleague changed subjects abruptly, impatiently. "Let's -leave this blistering jabber about Pond's motivation and get to the -point. The man is the only trained space pilot in the world. It will -take months, possibly more than a year, to bring another novitiate -pilot to the point where he can safely be trusted to take our next -explorer craft out. Appropriations for our expeditions have been -increasingly hard to come by--even though in _our_ minds, Hans, we are -near important breakthroughs, breakthroughs which might possibly so -spark the race that a new dream to push man out to the stars will take -hold of us. If it is admitted that our organization has degenerated -to the point that we haven't a single pilot, then it might well be -that the Economic Planning Board, and especially those cloddies -on Appropriations, will terminate the whole Department of Space -Exploration." - -"So...." Girard-Perregaux said gently. - -"So some way we've got to bring Seymour Pond out of his retirement!" - -"Now we are getting to matters." Girard-Perregaux nodded his agreement. -Looking over the rim of his glass, his eyes narrowed in thought as his -face took on an expression of Machiavellianism. "And do not the ends -justify the means?" - -Gubelin blinked at him. - -The other chuckled. "The trouble with you, Lofting, is that you have -failed to bring history to bear on our problem. Haven't you ever read -of the sailor and his way of life?" - -"Sailor? What in the name of the living Zoroaster has the sailor got to -do with it?" - -"You must realize, my dear Lofting, that our Si Pond is nothing more -than a latter-day sailor, with many of the problems and view-points, -tendencies and weaknesses of the voyager of the past. Have you never -heard of the seaman who dreamed of returning to the village of his -birth and buying a chicken farm or some such? All the long months at -sea--and sometimes the tramp freighters or whaling craft would be out -for years at a stretch before returning to home port--he would talk -of his retirement and his dream. And then? Then in port, it would be -one short drink with the boys, before taking his accumulated pay and -heading home. The one short drink would lead to another. And morning -would find him, drunk, rolled, tattooed and possibly sleeping it off in -jail. So back to sea he'd have to go." - -Gubelin grunted bitterly. "Unfortunately, our present-day sailor -can't be separated from his money quite so easily. If he could, I'd -personally be willing to lure him down some dark alley, knock him over -the head and roll him myself. Just to bring him back to his job again." - -He brought his wallet from his pocket, and flicked it open to his -universal credit card. "The ultimate means of exchange," he grunted. -"Nobody can spend your money, but you, yourself. Nobody can steal it, -nobody can, ah, _con_ you out of it. Just how do you expect to sever -our present-day sailor and his accumulated nest egg?" - -The other chuckled again. "It is simply a matter of finding more modern -methods, my dear chap." - - -II - -Si Pond was a great believer in the institution of the spree. Any -excuse would do. Back when he had finished basic education at the age -of twenty-five and was registered for the labor draft, there hadn't -been a chance in a hundred that he'd have the bad luck to have his -name pulled. But when it had been, Si had celebrated. - -When he had been informed that his physical and mental qualifications -were such that he was eligible for the most dangerous occupation in -the Ultrawelfare State and had been pressured into taking training -for space pilot, he had celebrated once again. Twenty-two others had -taken the training with him, and only he and Rod Cameroon had passed -the finals. On this occasion, he and Rod had celebrated together. It -had been quite a party. Two weeks later, Rod had burned on a faulty -take-off on what should have been a routine Moon run. - -Each time Si returned from one of his own runs, he celebrated. A spree, -a bust, a bat, a wing-ding, a night on the town. A commemoration of -dangers met and passed. - -Now it was all over. At the age of thirty he was retired. Law prevented -him from ever being called up for contributing to the country's labor -needs again. And he most certainly wasn't going to volunteer. - -He had taken his schooling much as had his contemporaries. There wasn't -any particular reason for trying to excell. You didn't want to get the -reputation for being a wise guy, or a cloddy either. Just one of the -fellas. You could do the same in life whether you really studied or -not. You had your Inalienable Basic stock, didn't you? What else did -you need? - -It had come as a surprise when he'd been drafted for the labor force. - -In the early days of the Ultrawelfare State, they had made a mistake -in adapting to the automation of the second industrial revolution. -They had attempted to give everyone work by reducing the number of -working hours in the day, and the number of working days in the week. -It finally became ludicrous when employees of industry were working -but two days a week, two hours a day. In fact, it got chaotic. It -became obvious that it was more practical to have one worker putting in -thirty-five hours a week and getting to know his job well, than it was -to have a score of employees, each working a few hours a week and none -of them ever really becoming efficient. - -The only fair thing was to let the technologically unemployed remain -unemployed, with their Inalienable Basic stock as the equivalent of -unemployment insurance, while the few workers still needed put in a -reasonable number of hours a day, a reasonable number of weeks a year -and a reasonable number of years in a life time. When new employees -were needed, a draft lottery was held. - -All persons registered in the labor force participated. If you -were drawn, you must need serve. The dissatisfaction those chosen -might feel at their poor luck was offset by the fact that they were -granted additional Variable Basic shares, according to the tasks -they fulfilled. Such shares could be added to their portfolios, the -dividends becoming part of their current credit balance, or could be -sold for a lump sum on the market. - -Yes, but now it was all over. He had his own little place, his own -vacuum-tube vehicle and twice the amount of shares of Basic that most -of his fellow citizens could boast. Si Pond had it made. A spree was -obviously called for. - -He was going to do this one right. This was the big one. He'd -accumulated a lot of dollars these past few months and he intended -to blow them, or at least a sizeable number of them. His credit card -was burning a hole in his pocket, as the expression went. However, he -wasn't going to rush into things. This had to be done correctly. - -Too many a spree was played by ear. You started off with a few drinks, -fell in with some second rate mopsy and usually wound up in a third -rate groggery where you spent just as much as though you'd been in the -classiest joint in town. Came morning and you had nothing to show for -all the dollars that had been spent but a rum-head. - -Thus, Si was vaguely aware, it had always been down through the -centuries since the Phoenecian sailor, back from his year-long trip to -the tin mines of Cornwall, blew his hard earned share of the voyage's -profits in a matter of days in the wine shops of Tyre. Nobody gets -quite so little for his money as that loneliest of all workers, he who -must leave his home for distant lands, returning only periodically and -usually with the salary of lengthy, weary periods of time to be spent -hurriedly in an attempt to achieve the pleasure and happiness so long -denied him. - -Si was going to do it differently this time. - -Nothing but the best. Wine, women, song, food, entertainment. The -works. But nothing but the best. - - * * * * * - -To start off, he dressed with great care in the honorable -retirement-rank suit he had so recently purchased. His space pin he -attached carefully to the lapel. That was a good beginning, he decided. -A bit of prestige didn't hurt you when you went out on the town. In -the Ultrawelfare State hardly one person in a hundred actually ever -performed anything of value to society. The efforts of most weren't -needed. Those few who did contribute were awarded honors, decorations, -titles. - -Attired satisfactorily, Si double-checked to see that his credit -card was in his pocket. As an after-thought, he went over to the -auto-apartment's teevee-phone, flicked it on, held the card to the -screen and said, "Balance check, please." - -In a moment, the teevee-phone's robot voice reported, "Ten shares of -Inalienable Basic. Twelve shares of Variable Basic, current value, four -thousand, two hundred and thirty-three dollars and sixty-two cents -apiece. Current cash credit, one thousand and eighty-four dollars." The -screen went dead. - -One thousand and eighty-four dollars. That was plenty. He could safely -spend as much as half of it, if the spree got as lively as he hoped it -would. His monthly dividends were due in another week or so, and he -wouldn't have to worry about current expenses. Yes, indeedy, Si Pond -was as solvent as he had ever been in his thirty years. - -He opened the small, closet-like door which housed his vacuum-tube -two-seater, and wedged himself into the small vehicle. He brought down -the canopy, dropped the pressurizer and considered the dial. Only one -place really made sense. The big city. - -He considered for a moment, decided against the boroughs of Baltimore -and Boston, and selected Manhattan instead. He had the resources. He -might as well do it up brown. - -He dialed Manhattan and felt the sinking sensation that presaged his -car's dropping to tube level. While it was being taken up by the robot -controls, being shuttled here and there preparatory to the shot to his -destination, he dialed the vehicle's teevee-phone for information on -the hotels of the island of the Hudson. He selected a swank hostelry -he'd read about and seen on the teevee casts of society and celebrity -gossip reporters, and dialed it on the car's destination dial. - -"Nothing too good for ex-Space Pilot Si Pond," he said aloud. - -The car hesitated for a moment, that brief hesitation before the -shot, and Si took the involuntary breath from which only heroes could -refrain. He sank back slowly into the seat. Moments passed, and the -direction of the pressure was reversed. - -Manhattan. The shuttling began again, and one or two more traversing -sub-shots. Finally, the dash threw a green light and Si opened the -canopy and stepped into his hotel room. - -A voice said gently, "If the quarters are satisfactory, please present -your credit card within ten minutes." - -Si took his time. Not that he really needed it. It was by far the most -swank suite he had ever seen. One wall was a window of whatever size -the guest might desire and Si touched the control that dilated it to -the full. His view opened in such wise that he could see both the -Empire State Building Museum and the Hudson. Beyond the river stretched -the all but endless city which was Greater Metropolis. - -He didn't take the time to flick on the menu, next to the auto-dining -table, nor to check the endless potables on the autobar list. All that, -he well knew, would be superlative. Besides, he didn't plan to dine -or do much drinking in his suite. He made a mock leer. Not unless he -managed to acquire some feminine companionship, that was. - -He looked briefly into the swimming pool and bath, then flopped -himself happily onto the bed. It wasn't up to the degree of softness -he presently desired, and he dialed the thing to the ultimate in that -direction so that with a laugh he sank almost out of sight into the -mattress. - -He came back to his feet, gave his suit a quick patting so that it -fell into press and, taking his credit card from his pocket, put it -against the teevee-phone screen and pressed the hotel button so that -registration could be completed. - -For a moment he stood in the center of the floor, in thought. Take it -easy, Si Pond, take it all easy, this time. No throwing his dollars -around in second-class groggeries, no eating in automated luncheterias. -This time, be it the only time in his life, he was going to frolic in -the grand manner. No cloddy was Si Pond. - -He decided a drink was in order to help him plan his strategy. A drink -at the hotel's famous Kudos Room where celebrities were reputed to be a -dime a dozen. - -He left the suite and stepped into one of the elevators. He said, -"Kudos Room." - -The auto-elevator murmured politely, "Yes, sir, the Kudos Room." - - * * * * * - -At the door to the famous rendezvous of the swankiest set, Si paused a -moment and looked about. He'd never been in a place like this, either. -However, he stifled his first instinct to wonder about what this was -going to do to his current credit balance with an inner grin and made -his way to the bar. - -There was actually a bartender. - -Si Pond suppressed his astonishment and said, offhand, attempting an -air of easy sophistication, "Slivovitz Sour." - -"Yes, sir." - -The drinks in the Kudos Room might be concocted by hand, but Si noticed -they had the routine teevee screens built into the bar for payment. -He put his credit card on the screen immediately before him when the -drink came, and had to quell his desire to dial for a balance check, so -as to be able to figure out what the Sour had cost him. - -Well, this was something like it. This was the sort of thing he'd -dreamed about, out there in the great alone, seated in the confining -conning tower of his space craft. He sipped at the drink, finding it up -to his highest expectations, and then swiveled slightly on his stool to -take a look at the others present. - -To his disappointment, there were no recognizable celebrities. None -that he placed, at least--top teevee stars, top politicians of the -Ultrawelfare State or Sports personalities. - -He turned back to his drink and noticed, for the first time, the girl -who occupied the stool two down from him. Si Pond blinked. He blinked -and then swallowed. - -"_Zo-ro-as-ter_," he breathed. - -She was done in the latest style from Shanghai, even to the point of -having cosmetically duplicated the Mongolian fold at the corners of her -eyes. Every pore, but _every_ pore, was in place. She sat with the easy -grace of the Orient, so seldom found in the West. - -His stare couldn't be ignored. - -She looked at him coldly, turned to the bartender and murmured, "A Far -Out Cooler, please, Fredric." Then deliberately added, "I thought the -Kudos Room was supposed to be exclusive." - -There was nothing the bartender could say to that, and he went about -building the drink. - -Si cleared his throat. "Hey," he said, "how about letting this one be -on me?" - -Her eyebrows, which had been plucked and penciled to carry out her -Oriental motif, rose. "Really!" she said, drawing it out. - -The bartender said hurriedly, "I beg your pardon, sir...." - -The girl, her voice suddenly subtly changed, said, "Why, isn't that a -space pin?" - -Si, disconcerted by the sudden reversal, said, "Yeah ... sure." - -"Good Heavens, you're a spaceman?" - -"Sure." He pointed at the lapel pin. "You can't wear one unless you -been on at least a Moon run." - -She was obviously both taken back and impressed. "Why," she said, -"you're Seymour Pond, the pilot. I tuned in on the banquet they gave -you." - -Si, carrying his glass, moved over to the stool next to her. "Call me -Si," he said. "Everybody calls me Si." - -She said, "I'm Natalie. Natalie Paskov. Just Natalie. Imagine meeting -Seymour Pond. Just sitting down next to him at a bar. Just like that." - -"Si," Si said, gratified. Holy Zoroaster, he'd never seen anything -like this rarified pulchritude. Maybe on teevee, of course, one of the -current sex symbols, but never in person. "Call me Si," he said again. -"I been called Si so long, I don't even know who somebody's talking to -if they say Seymour." - -"I cried when they gave you that antique watch," she said, her tone -such that it was obvious she hadn't quite adjusted as yet to having -met him. - -Si Pond was surprised. "Cried?" he said. "Well, why? I was kind of -bored with the whole thing. But old Doc Gubelin, I used to work under -him in the Space Exploration department, he was hot for it." - -"_Academician_ Gubelin?" she said. "You just call him _Doc_?" - -Si was expansive. "Why, sure. In the Space Department we don't have -much time for formality. Everybody's just Si, and Doc, and Jim. Like -that. But how come you cried?" - - * * * * * - -She looked down into the drink the bartender had placed before her, -as though avoiding his face. "I ... I suppose it was that speech -Doctor Girard-Perregaux made. There you stood, so fine and straight in -your space-pilot uniform, the veteran of six exploration runs to the -planets...." - -"Well," Si said modestly, "two of my runs were only to the Moon." - -"... and he said all those things about man's conquest of space. And -the dream of the stars which man has held so long. And then the fact -that you were the last of the space pilots. The last man in the whole -world trained to pilot a space craft. And here you were, retiring." - -Si grunted. "Yeah. That's all part of the Doc's scheme to get me to -take on another three runs. They're afraid the whole department'll be -dropped by the Appropriations Committee on this here Economic Planning -Board. Even if they can find some other patsy to train for the job, -it'd take maybe a year before you could even send him on a Moon hop. -So old man Gubelin, and Girard-Perregaux too, they're both trying to -pressure me into more trips. Otherwise they got a Space Exploration -Department, with all the expense and all, but nobody to pilot their -ships. It's kind of funny, in a way. You know what one of those -spaceships costs?" - -"Funny?" she said. "Why, I don't think it's funny at all." - -Si said, "Look, how about another drink?" - -Natalie Paskov said, "Oh, I'd love to have a drink with you, Mr...." - -"Si," Si said. He motioned to the bartender with a circular twist of -the hand indicating their need for two more of the same. "How come you -know so much about it? You don't meet many people who are interested -in space any more. In fact, most people are almost contemptuous, like. -Think it's kind of a big boondoggle deal to help use up a lot of -materials and all and keep the economy going." - -Natalie said earnestly, "Why, I've been a space fan all my life. I've -read all about it. Have always known the names of all the space pilots -and everything about them, ever since I was a child. I suppose you'd -say I have the dream that Doctor Girard-Perregaux spoke about." - -Si chuckled. "A real buff, eh? You know, it's kind of funny. I was -never much interested in it. And I got a darn sight less interested -after my first run and I found out what space cafard was." - -She frowned. "I don't believe I know much about that." - -Sitting in the Kudos Room with the most beautiful girl to whom he had -ever talked, Si could be nonchalant about the subject. "Old Gubelin -keeps that angle mostly hushed up and out of the magazine and newspaper -articles. Says there's enough adverse publicity about space exploration -already. But at this stage of the game when the whole ship's crammed -tight with this automatic scientific apparatus and all, there's -precious little room in the conning tower and you're the only man -aboard. The Doc says later on when ships are bigger and there's a whole -flock of people aboard, there won't be any such thing as space cafard, -but...." Of a sudden the right side of Si Pond's mouth began to tic -and he hurriedly took up his drink and knocked it back. - -He cleared his throat. "Let's talk about some other angle. Look, how -about something to eat, Natalie? I'm celebrating my retirement, like. -You know, out on the town. If you're free...." - -She put the tip of a finger to her lips, looking for the moment like a -small girl rather than an ultra-sophisticate. "Supposedly, I have an -appointment," she said hesitantly. - - * * * * * - -When the mists rolled out in the morning--if it was still morning--it -was to the tune of an insistent hotel chime. Si rolled over on his back -and growled, "_Zo-ro-as-ter_, cut that out. What do you want?" - -The hotel communicator said softly, "Checking-out time, sir, is at two -o'clock." - -Si groaned. He couldn't place the last of the evening at all. He didn't -remember coming back to the hotel. He couldn't recall where he had -separated from, what was her name ... Natalie. - -He vaguely recalled having some absinthe in some fancy club she had -taken him to. What was the gag she'd made? Absinthe makes the heart -grow fonder. And then the club where they had the gambling machines. -And the mists had rolled in on him. Mountains of the Moon! but that -girl could drink. He simply wasn't that used to the stuff. You don't -drink in Space School and you most certainly don't drink when in space. -His binges had been few and far between. - -He said now, "I don't plan on checking out today. Don't bother me." He -turned to his pillow. - -The hotel communicator said quietly, "Sorry, sir, but your credit -balance does not show sufficient to pay your bill for another day." - -Si Pond shot up, upright in bed, suddenly cold sober. - -His eyes darted about the room, as though he was seeing it for -the first time. His clothes, he noted, were thrown over a chair -haphazardly. He made his way to them, his face empty, and fished about -for his credit card, finding it in a side pocket. He wavered to the -teevee-phone and thrust the card against the screen. He demanded, his -voice as empty as his expression, "Balance check, please." - -In less than a minute the robot-voice told him: "Ten shares of -Inalienable Basic. Current cash credit, forty-two dollars and thirty -cents." The screen went dead. - -He sank back into the chair which held his clothes, paying no attention -to them. It couldn't be right. Only yesterday, he'd had twelve shares -of Variable Basic, immediately convertible into more than fifty -thousand dollars, had he so wished to convert rather than collect -dividends indefinitely. Not only had he the twelve shares of Variable -Basic, but more than a thousand dollars to his credit. - -He banged his fist against his mouth. Conceivably, he might have -gone through his thousand dollars. It was possible, though hardly -believable. The places he'd gone to with that girl in the Chinese -get-up were probably the most expensive in Greater Metropolis. But, -however expensive, he couldn't possibly have spent fifty thousand -dollars! Not possibly. - -He came to his feet again to head for the teevee screen and demand -an audit of the past twenty-four hours from Central Statistics. -That'd show it up. Every penny expended. Something was crazy here. -Someway that girl had pulled a fast one. She didn't seem the type. But -something had happened to his twelve shares of Variable Basic, and -he wasn't standing for it. It was his security, his defense against -slipping back into the ranks of the cloddies, the poor demi-buttocked -ranks of the average man, the desperately dull life of those who -subsisted on the bounty of the Ultrawelfare State and the proceeds of -ten shares of Inalienable Basic. - -He dialed Statistics and placed his card against the screen. His -voice was strained now. "An audit of all expenditures for the past -twenty-four hours." - -Then he sat and watched. - -His vacuum-tube trip to Manhattan was the first item. Two dollars and -fifty cents. Next was his hotel suite. Fifty dollars. Well, he had -known it was going to be expensive. A Slivovitz Sour at the Kudos Room, -he found, went for three dollars a throw, and the Far out Coolers -Natalie drank, four dollars. Absinthe was worse still, going for ten -dollars a drink. - -He was impatient. All this didn't account for anything like a thousand -dollars, not to speak of fifty thousand. - -The audit threw an item he didn't understand. A one dollar credit. And -then, immediately afterward, a hundred dollar credit. Si scowled. - -And then slowly reached out and flicked the set off. For it had all -come back to him. - -At first he had won. Won so that the other players had crowded around -him, watching. Five thousand, ten thousand. Natalie had been jubilant. -The others had cheered him on. He'd bet progressively higher, smaller -wagers becoming meaningless and thousands being involved on single -bets. A five thousand bet on odd had lost, and then another. The -kibitzers had gone silent. When he had attempted to place another -five thousand bet, the teevee screen robot voice had informed him -dispassionately that his current cash credit balance was insufficient -to cover that amount. - -Yes. He could remember now. He had needed no time to decide, had simply -snapped, "Sell one share of Variable Basic at current market value." - -The other eleven shares had taken the route of the first. - -When it was finally all gone and he had looked around, it was to find -that Natalie Paskov was gone as well. - - * * * * * - -Academician Lofting Gubelin, seated in his office, was being -pontifical. His old friend Hans Girard-Perregaux had enough other -things on his mind to let him get away with it, only half following the -monologue. - -"I submit," Gubelin orated, "that there is evolution in society. But -it is by fits and starts, and by no means a constant thing. Whole -civilizations can go dormant, so far as progress is concerned, for -millennia at a time." - -Girard-Perregaux said mildly, "Isn't that an exaggeration, Lofting?" - -"No, by Zoroaster, it is not! Take the Egyptians. Their greatest -monuments, such as the pyramids, were constructed in the earlier -dynasties. Khufu, or Cheops, built the largest at Gizeh. He was the -founder of the 4th Dynasty, about the year 2900 B. C. Twenty-five -dynasties later, and nearly three thousand years, there was no greatly -discernable change in the Egyptian culture." - -Girard-Perregaux egged him on gently. "The sole example of your theory -I can think of, offhand." - -"Not at all!" Gubelin glared. "The Mayans are a more recent proof. -Their culture goes back to at least 500 B. C. At that time their -glyph-writing was already wide-spread and their cities, eventually -to number in the hundreds, being built. By the time of Christ they -had reached their peak. And they remained there until the coming of -the Spaniards, neither gaining nor losing, in terms of evolution of -society." - -His colleague sighed. "And your point, Lofting?" - -"Isn't it blisteringly obvious?" the other demanded. "We're in danger -of reaching a similar static condition here and now. The Ultrawelfare -State!" He snorted indignation. "The Conformist State or the Status -Quo State, is more like it. I tell you, Hans, all progress is being -dried up. There is no will to delve into the unknown, no burning fever -to explore the unexplored. And this time it isn't a matter of a single -area, such as Egypt or Yucatan, but our whole world. If man goes into -intellectual coma this time, then all the race slows down, not merely a -single element of it." - -He rose suddenly from the desk chair he'd been occupying to pace the -room. "The race must find a new frontier, a new ocean to cross, a new -enemy to fight." - -Girard-Perregaux raised his eyebrows. - -"Don't be a cloddy," Gubelin snapped. "You know what I mean. Not a -human enemy, not even an alien intelligence. But something against -which we must pit our every wit, our every strength, our strongest -determination. Otherwise, we go dull, we wither on the vine." - -The other at long last chuckled. "My dear Lofting, you wax absolutely -lyrical." - -Gubelin suddenly stopped his pacing, returned to his desk and sank -back into his chair. He seemed to add a score of years to his age, and -his face sagged. "I don't know why I take it out on you, Hans. You're -as aware of the situation as I. Man's next frontier is space. First -the planets, and then a reaching out to the stars. This is our new -frontier, our new ocean to cross." - -His old friend was nodding. He brought his full attention to the -discussion at last. "And we'll succeed, Lofting. The last trip Pond -made gives us ample evidence that we can actually colonize and -exploit the Jupiter satellites. Two more runs, at most three, and -we can release our findings in such manner that they'll strike the -imaginations of every Tom, Dick and Harry like nothing since Columbus -made his highly exaggerated reports on his New World." - -"Two or three more runs," Gubelin grunted bitterly. "You've heard the -rumors. Appropriations is going to lower the boom on us. Unless we can -get Pond back into harness, we're sunk. The runs will never be made. I -tell you, Hans...." - - * * * * * - -But Hans Girard-Perregaux was wagging him to silence with a finger. -"They'll be made. I've taken steps to see friend Seymour Pond comes -dragging back to us." - -"But he _hates_ space! The funker probably won't consent to come within -a mile of the New Albuquerque Spaceport for the rest of his life, the -blistering cloddy." - -A desk light flicked green, and Girard-Perregaux raised his eyebrows. -"Exactly at the psychological moment. If I'm not mistaken, Lofting, -that is probably our fallen woman." - -"Our _what_?" - -But Doctor Hans Girard-Perregaux had come to his feet and personally -opened the door. "Ah, my dear," he said affably. - -Natalie Paskov, done today in Bulgarian peasant garb, and as faultless -in appearance as she had been in the Kudos Room, walked briskly into -the office. - -"Assignment carried out," she said crisply. - -"Indeed," Girard-Perregaux said approvingly. "So soon?" - -Gubelin looked from one to the other. "What in the blistering name of -Zoroaster is going on?" - -His friend said. "Academician Gubelin, may I present Operative Natalie -of Extraordinary Services Incorporated?" - -"Extraordinary Services?" Gubelin blurted. - -"In this case," Natalie said smoothly, even while taking the chair held -for her by Doctor Girard-Perregaux, "a particularly apt name. It was a -dirty trick." - -"But for a good cause, my dear." - -She shrugged. "So I am often told, when sent on these far-out -assignments." - -Girard-Perregaux, in spite of her words, was beaming at her. "Please -report in full," he said, ignoring his colleague's obvious bewilderment. - -Natalie Paskov made it brief. "I picked up the subject in the Kudos -Room of the Greater Metropolis Hotel, pretending to be a devotee of -the space program as an excuse. It soon developed that he had embarked -upon a celebration of his retirement. He was incredibly naive, and -allowed me to over-indulge him in semi-narcotics as well as alcohol, so -that his defensive inhibitions were low. I then took him to a gambling -spot where, so dull that he hardly knew what he was doing, he lost his -expendable capital." - -Gubelin had been staring at her, but now he blurted, "But suppose he -had won?" - -She shrugged it off. "Hardly, the way I was encouraging him to wager. -Each time he won, I urged him to double up. It was only a matter of -time until ..." she let the sentence dribble away. - -Girard-Perregaux rubbed his hands together briskly. "Then, in turn, it -is but a matter of time until friend Pond comes around again." - -"That I wouldn't know," Natalie Paskov said disinterestedly. "My job -is done. However, the poor man seems so utterly opposed to returning -to your service that I wouldn't be surprised if he remained in his -retirement, living on his Inalienable Basic shares. He seems literally -terrified of being subjected to space cafard again." - -But Hans Girard-Perregaux wagged a finger negatively at her. "Not after -having enjoyed a better way of life for the past decade. A person is -able to exist on the Inalienable Basic dividends, but it is almost -impossible to bring oneself to it once a fuller life has been enjoyed. -No, Seymour Pond will never go back to the dullness of life the way it -is lived by nine-tenths of our population." - -Natalie came to her feet. "Well, gentlemen, you'll get your bill--a -whopping one. I hope your need justifies this bit of dirty work. -Frankly, I am considering my resignation from Extraordinary Services, -although I'm no more anxious to live on my Inalienable Basic than poor -Si Pond is. Good day, gentlemen." - -She started toward the door. - -The teevee-phone on Gubelin's desk lit up and even as Doctor -Girard-Perregaux was saying unctuously to the girl, "Believe me, my -dear, the task you have performed, though odious, will serve the whole -race," the teevee-phone said: - -"Sir, you asked me to keep track of Pilot Seymour Pond. There is a -report on the news. He suicided this morning." - -END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Spaceman on a Spree, by Mack Reynolds - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACEMAN ON A SPREE *** - -***** This file should be named 52995.txt or 52995.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/9/52995/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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