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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59849 ***
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+                _He was worse than Dillinger, the James
+                Boys, Captain Kidd and Benedict Arnold
+                   put together--all because he was_
+
+                              FILTHY RICH
+
+                           BY FRED SHEINBAUM
+
+           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
+               Worlds of If Science Fiction, April 1957.
+         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+The Thursday morning executive meeting of the General Products
+Corporation was adjourned, as usual, with the Consumer's Pledge. The
+same pledge recited each morning by children in schools across the
+nation.
+
+J.L. Spender, Assistant Vice-President of Cotter Pin Production for
+Plant Five was proud to put in these extra Thursday mornings. Let the
+common herd work their three day, twenty-one hour week. He was part of
+the management team, working behind the scenes, constantly raising the
+standard of living of the American Consumer.
+
+A silent elevator whisked J.L. to the roof of the Administration
+Building where the heliport attendant rolled out his new helicopter,
+a June, 1998 Buick Skymaster. It was a sculpture in chrome and
+plexiglass; a suitable vehicle for the assistant vice-president as
+prescribed by _Consumer's Guide_. A loyal consumer, he bought the new
+model every six months.
+
+Once in the air and on course, J.L. set the Ultramatic autopilot--a new
+feature on the '98 model--and pushed the chrome seat control lever to
+semi-reclining. Scarcely a cloud marred the pristine blue, and below
+nestled the neat, colorful homes of happy American consumers, but his
+problem was not to be soothed by sinking back to enjoy the crisp spring
+air.
+
+Life, J.L. felt, would be all sweetness and light were it not for the
+unaccountable affection his pretty young daughter, Glory, bore for an
+ascetic looking young man of doubtful integrity as a consumer.
+
+There had been a parade of acceptable young men through his front door,
+none of whom had excited more in him than apathy.
+
+But this one. He wore spectacles with heavy black frames when almost
+everyone used disposable contact lenses. His suits were at least a
+month behind the current style. And with all those young men to choose
+from, Glory picked him to ask to dinner that evening.
+
+Glory had been taught to respect the might of the dollar and the
+disaster that comes of not spending it. She was a credit to her family;
+a sound, patriotic consumer. She could spend money faster, more
+sensibly than any of her frivolous friends. One fortunate young man
+would find her an excellent wife. No dollar-hoarder would fill her mind
+with subversive notions if he could prevent it.
+
+Much as J.L. disliked having that particular young man to dinner, it
+did afford the opportunity to spend some of the extra money that always
+collected if you didn't watch very carefully. Being forced to pay a
+savings tax wouldn't do his career or social position any good, and he
+certainly wouldn't think of putting it into a secret bank account.
+
+The Hudson river was beneath him. He would soon be home. The thought
+reminded him that though the family had already passed the five year
+mark in this house, he had still not made an appointment with his
+architect.
+
+Just before landing J.L. took the controls. The autopilot was supposed
+to land itself, but somehow he felt better doing it himself. A control
+on the dash opened the garage, another retracted the overhead rotors.
+He drove in, closed the garage door, and got out.
+
+He paused in the hall only long enough to throw his hat and top-coat
+into the waste receptacle. From the kitchen he heard the familiar
+crackling of packages being unwrapped.
+
+"Home at last," he sighed, pecking Marge, his wife, on the cheek. "What
+did you buy today, Honey?"
+
+It was a treat to watch the pleasure with which Marge unwrapped
+packages. J.L. bought most things out of a sense of duty, but Marge and
+Glory really enjoyed spending money, God bless them.
+
+"Oh, lots of things," Marge answered. She held a cut crystal goblet
+to the light watching it sparkle. "A new set of china, this exquisite
+stemware, and the loveliest linen tablecloth, and ... oh, and they're
+sending a genuine oak table for the dining room. The shop I bought it
+in has the cleverest service. The man who delivers the table cuts up
+the old one so it can be used in the fireplace. Isn't that practical?"
+
+"That _is_ clever," J.L. said. "It's a pity to waste it all on that
+good-for-nothing, whatever his name is."
+
+"Stringer."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That's his name, Ernest Stringer. Why is he a good-for-nothing? He
+does dress oddly, I admit, but Glory seems to like him."
+
+"That's exactly why I'm worried. If she asked him for dinner there's no
+telling what's going on. A person like that is a bad influence." J.L.
+said, punctuating by jabbing the air with his index finger.
+
+"Now really, Dear. You hardly know him."
+
+"I know him well enough. You are the one who claims to be such a
+good judge of character. Look at those glasses he wears. Why doesn't
+he wear disposable contact lenses like everyone else. It's positively
+unsanitary. And did you see that suit? I'll say he dresses oddly. That
+thing hasn't been in style for a month. I bet he doesn't spend half his
+salary."
+
+"Oh, I don't know." Marge said, abstractedly. She was admiring the
+floral pattern on her new china. "But do be nice to him. Don't say
+anything to embarrass Glory."
+
+"Oh, I'll be nice all right. I guess I know how to act. You and your
+daughter have trained me. And there are worse things than being
+embarrassed." He would have gone on, but at that moment Glory sauntered
+into the room.
+
+"Hi, Dad. Back from the grind, I see." Her hair was the color of lemon
+and in her blue eyes was reflected a youthful zest for life.
+
+"Do you like the new dress? It comes in seventeen colors. I bought
+them all. And hats and shoes and gloves and bags to match." She said,
+walking as she had seen professional models walk, with arms akimbo and
+swinging hips.
+
+"Very pretty," he said, "but shouldn't there be a little more to it?
+Style is style, but leave something to the imagination. They can't be
+using up much fabric with a number like that."
+
+"See, Mom. Didn't I tell you exactly what he'd say? Daddy is so
+mid-century. Aren't you, Darling?"
+
+"Glory, at the risk of seeming ... ah ... mid-century, I think you owe
+your mother and myself some information about this person you've asked
+to dinner."
+
+"What kind of information? You've met him," she said. Her eyes narrowed
+slightly.
+
+"Yes, I've met him. What is his background? What does he work at? What
+kind of a consumer is he?"
+
+"Dad, you are not being fair."
+
+"Not fair? Why not? Are you ashamed of him?"
+
+"No, I'm not ashamed of him. Ernie is a dear sweet boy. He lost both of
+his parents when he was very young. Bringing himself up has made him
+different from most people, I guess. But he has done very well. And all
+by himself, too. He's an OE, you know."
+
+This only added heat to J.L.'s burning suspicion. "I don't want to
+sound narrow minded, Glory, but I've met a good many Opinion Engineers
+in business and darned few of them are fit company for a young girl.
+They picture themselves as independent thinkers. They don't spend their
+money as they should."
+
+Glory's lips whitened as she pressed them together. J.L. saw the
+gathering storm in her eyes. "That's not fair," she said. "Ernie is
+perfectly all right. He just needs looking after. Mother, help me."
+
+Marge smiled calmly, and said, "Your father is just acting like a
+father, that's all. He is trying to protect you."
+
+"Well, I'm twenty years old, almost. And it's practically the
+twenty-first century, but it looks like the middle ages around here.
+I'm sorry I asked him to come. I'll never ask anyone again." She threw
+her head back and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead.
+
+"Now don't start getting dramatic. I only want what's best for you,
+J.L. said. But it was only bluff. He knew when he was licked.
+
+"All right, all right," he said, trying to prevent her tears from
+brimming over. "I promise to be good tonight." It was time for him to
+retreat, as gracefully as possible, to his study and the latest issue
+of _Consumer's Guide_.
+
+Which he did.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At a quarter of seven J.L. tottered into his living room. He was fully
+dressed except for a bright red sash hanging slack, like a sail in the
+doldrums, just brushing the tops of his patent leather shoes.
+
+Dressing was a nerve-jarring, thirst-making business. He was in full
+sympathy with the need for changing men's styles so frequently, but
+those overpaid designers could surely dream up easier outfits to get
+into.
+
+He separated a decanter of bourbon from its fellows on the
+mirror-backed shelves and from it poured a lavish helping. Using the
+tip of his index finger, he twirled the ice cubes and, with a sigh,
+lifted the golden fluid to his lips.
+
+Over the rim of the glass he saw Glory come floating into view. She was
+dressed, mostly below the waist, in yards of a light gauzy fabric that
+seemed to have life of its own.
+
+She stopped at the door while her eyes slowly swept the room. J.L. was
+reminded of a spider making sure the web would be cosy. Her glance
+came to rest on the portly figure of her father.
+
+She exhaled a sigh of controlled exasperation. "Daddy, your sash is
+hanging. It looks like a flag at half mast."
+
+"I am perfectly aware that my sash is hanging." He wasn't sure he
+approved of the tone of her voice.
+
+"Well tuck it up then. Ernie will be here any minute."
+
+"It refuses to stay up. How do you know? Maybe it is supposed to hang.
+Those designers should be forced to dress themselves in these things
+before they loose them on an unsuspecting public."
+
+She glided towards him and, with a few deft touches, the sash was
+neatly in place. "Dad, promise you'll be nice to him."
+
+J.L. smiled. Much as he protested, he liked being fussed over. "Of
+course, I'll be nice. When am I not nice? I just said those things
+about him because ... well, I wanted you to be wary."
+
+"Don't worry about Ernie. He's a dear. And, please, no economics
+lectures. That business about thrift being a menace to prosperity may
+have been a new idea when you were young, but now every kid in school
+is taught it. So spare us. It makes you sound like an old fuddy duddy."
+
+Fuddy duddy? J.L. was about to make a stunning rejoinder when he heard
+the whirring of helicopter rotors overhead.
+
+"There he is." Glory said, excitedly, "Let him in."
+
+"Where are you running?" he asked, surprised. She was as fully dressed
+as she was likely to be.
+
+"You know I can't be here when he comes in," she said.
+
+"Can't be here? Where else should you be?" J.L. asked. The situation
+was getting out of hand.
+
+"Strategy, my dear parent. I can't just be sitting here waiting when he
+walks in. He is supposed to be waiting for me ... with bated breath. It
+makes my entrance more effective. Ta ta for now." She was gone.
+
+The prospect of dining at the same table with the young man was
+repellent enough. Now he would have to provide entertaining
+conversation until Glory chose to appear.
+
+The door chimes sounded.
+
+J.L. drained his glass, stiffened his spine, and strode to the door
+pulling it open with a jerk, like a doctor removing adhesive tape.
+
+Any hope J.L. might have had was dashed when the door opened to reveal
+Ernest Stringer, his piercing brown eyes, a tight lipped smile, and the
+traditional gift of candy under his arm.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Spender," he said. "You are, I believe, expecting
+me." He was so thin that the current, tight fitting style made him look
+very like a figure constructed with pipe cleaners.
+
+J.L. did his best to appear gracious. "Come in, come in," he said,
+taking his hat and coat. "Glory will be in soon."
+
+The suit was up to date, but J.L. spotted other telling details. His
+heels were slightly lighter in color than the rest of the shoes,
+indicating they had been reheeled. It was also evident, to a trained
+eye, that the collar and cuffs of his shirt had been resized, proof
+that the shirt had been laundered; perhaps, even more than once.
+
+"What can I get you to drink?" J.L. asked, leading the way into the
+living room.
+
+"Nothing, thank you. I seldom take alcohol," the young man said.
+
+"Is that right? A young fellow like you. It certainly is fortunate that
+the rest of your generation doesn't share your prejudice. Alcoholic
+beverages account for more than five percent of total consumer
+purchases."
+
+"Five percent. As much as that? Well, in that case I should have
+something. Ah ... a glass of sherry, I think," he said, smiling with
+lips unparted.
+
+"Sherry? Sure you don't want something more ... more substantial?"
+
+"Sherry will do nicely, thank you."
+
+A sherry drinker is capable of anything, J.L. thought. He poured the
+wine into a high stemmed glass and mixed another bourbon for himself;
+this time going a little easier on the ice.
+
+The young man held the stem between spidery fingers, turning it slowly,
+delicately sniffing the bouquet.
+
+J.L. wished Glory or Marge would rescue him. He couldn't think of a
+thing to say. What could one say to a male sherry drinker?
+
+"What do you think of the international situation?" J.L. asked, just to
+break the uncomfortable silence.
+
+"What international situation?"
+
+"I mean do you think we are headed for war?" J.L. was sorry he had
+asked the harmless question.
+
+The young man laughed derisively. "What an idea. Of course there won't
+be a war," he said.
+
+"Why do you say that?" He wanted to see how far Stringer would go.
+
+"It's quite evident isn't it? War has been threatening for more than
+fifty years. It will probably continue to threaten for fifty more. It
+gives our government and that of our enemies the excuse to build enough
+munitions to take up the slack in the economy between production and
+the ability to consume what we produce."
+
+"That's ridiculous. I've never heard such nonsense." The young idiot,
+he thought, anyone with sense knew that to be true, but no one made a
+fuss about it for fear of upsetting a system that worked so well.
+
+It was an accepted fact of life, certainly preferable to actual war,
+and never mentioned in polite society.
+
+Stringer continued, speaking slowly, as if explaining to a very small
+child. He clasped his long fingers over his left knee hugging it almost
+to his chest, and rocked himself slightly. "Don't you see? If there was
+a real war millions of consumers would be taken out of the market for
+the duration, and many permanently. But this way governments can spend
+as much as they need to on war goods, to balance the economy, without
+disturbing the consumers at all.
+
+"The politicians love it, too. It supplies them with political issues,
+not easily come by these days," Stringer concluded. He seemed pleased
+with himself.
+
+J.L.'s glass was again empty. He rose to fill it saying, "That is a
+very interesting theory. Have you told it to many people?"
+
+Stringer did not answer.
+
+J.L. turned to see what had caused this sudden reticence. The young man
+sat with wide-eyed stare and loosely hanging jaw; obviously incapable
+of speech.
+
+Glory had made her strategic entrance.
+
+"Ah, there you are, Dear," J.L. said. "Mr. Stringer, here, has just
+been explaining international politics to me."
+
+"Doesn't he have a fine mind, Daddy?" she said, catching the young
+man's hand and favoring him with a smile that set his adam's apple to
+dancing.
+
+Fine? J.L. thought, narrow would be more accurate. He was about to
+make an audible comment along those lines when Marge called them in to
+dinner.
+
+All through the meal Marge fawned upon the young man, indulging the
+predatory instinct of a mother with a marriageable daughter.
+
+With the clam bisque she told of Glory's childhood; the prettiest child
+in the neighborhood. With the pressed duckling she told of an army of
+suitors, each more desirable than the last, that Glory had discarded
+like week-old overcoats. And with the fresh tropical fruit supreme she
+praised the condition of matrimony with such fervor that J.L. could
+feel the warmth of a blush on his cheek.
+
+When the young people left for the evening Marge sighed and said,
+"Don't they make a nice couple?"
+
+"Have you lost your mind?" J.L. replied, with almost saintly restraint.
+
+"Is something the matter, Dear?"
+
+J.L. threw up his hands in despair. "Is something the matter, she asks.
+Why did you butter him up like that? Did you see his face? He looked
+like a dog being scratched behind the ear. If he proposes to Glory
+tonight it's your fault."
+
+"Well, I think he'd make a fine son-in-law."
+
+"That non-consumer? I'd sooner drop him from the helicopter," he said.
+He noticed she was smiling. "Don't laugh, Marge. This is serious. I'm
+going to have a good long talk with Glory when she gets home. I'll put
+a stop to this."
+
+"Be careful what you say, Dear," she said.
+
+"Don't worry. I guess I know how to talk to my own daughter. I'm as
+modern as the next parent, you know that. But there comes a time when
+every child needs guidance, and I...."
+
+"Don't stay up too late, Dear," Marge interrupted, squelching a yawn.
+She kissed his cheek and left the room.
+
+J.L. poured another drink and settled in a comfortable chair to wait
+and to plan.
+
+Perhaps he should be imperious. On the screen of his imagination he saw
+himself. He was taller. His arms were folded high on his chest; his
+legs were spread wide like two sturdy trees. He had grown a full handle
+bar mustache. "Glory," he could hear himself say, "I forbid you ever to
+see that man again."
+
+Unfortunately the screen showed the probable result. She salaamed
+before him, touching her forehead to the carpet, "I hear and obey O
+Magnificent One." Sarcasm was more than he could bear. If only he had
+some proof. If only Marge hadn't been so approving.
+
+The slam of the front door dragged him from a nightmare in which Glory,
+having married Ernest Stringer, was drowning in a roomful of coin and
+currency. The level of money had just reached her frightened eyes.
+
+In the dim light of the hall he saw her leaning against the door she
+had slammed. Her shoulders were hunched with sobbing.
+
+"Glory, what's the matter?"
+
+She looked up, saw her father, and ran to her room.
+
+J.L. heaved out of the chair and followed, slowly. Her door was open
+a crack. He hesitated, then knocked lightly. No answer. He pushed the
+door wide enough to see in. She was perched on the edge of the bed,
+elbows on her knees, crying silently in the darkened room.
+
+"Mind if I come in?"
+
+Still no answer.
+
+He stepped in and sat gingerly on the bed beside her. Several minutes
+passed. "Want to tell me?" he said gently.
+
+She shook her head violently without looking up.
+
+Suddenly, she turned and pressed her face to his chest. The sobbing
+subsided a little and her words came haltingly.
+
+"It was awful. He's a subversive--a criminal--and I didn't even guess."
+She caught her breath. "We flew over to Staten Island. He parked near
+the water. Then he said, 'I want you to marry me.' Just like that. I
+liked him a lot--but I didn't know what to say. Then he said--Oh Daddy,
+it was horrible--" Her sobs increased again and she fumbled for his
+pocket kerchief. "He--he said, 'Look at this'. And Daddy it was one of
+those secret bankbooks! He has one hundred thousand dollars--and he's
+only twenty-five--and he's proud of it! He's worse than the old time
+gangsters, worse than--oh, Daddy--he's a non-consumer...." The last
+word trailed off in a wail and she was sobbing again.
+
+J.L. tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Be thankful, Baby," he
+murmured. "Be thankful you found the dirty so-and-so out in time."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Filthy Rich, by Fred Sheinbaum
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59849 ***