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 ProductsCorporation was adjourned, as usual, with the Consumer's Pledge. Thesame pledge recited each morning by children in schools across thenation.
J.L. Spender, Assistant Vice-President of Cotter Pin Production forPlant Five was proud to put in these extra Thursday mornings. Let thecommon herd work their three day, twenty-one hour week. He was part ofthe management team, working behind the scenes, constantly raising thestandard of living of the American Consumer.
A silent elevator whisked J.L. to the roof of the AdministrationBuilding where the heliport attendant rolled out his new helicopter,a June, 1998 Buick Skymaster. It was a sculpture in chrome andplexiglass; a suitable vehicle for the assistant vice-president asprescribed by Consumer's Guide. A loyal consumer, he bought the newmodel every six months.
Once in the air and on course, J.L. set the Ultramatic autopilot—a newfeature on the '98 model—and pushed the chrome seat control lever tosemi-reclining. Scarcely a cloud marred the pristine blue, and belownestled the neat, colorful homes of happy American consumers, but hisproblem was not to be soothed by sinking back to enjoy the crisp springair.
Life, J.L. felt, would be all sweetness and light were it not for theunaccountable affection his pretty young daughter, Glory, bore for anascetic 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 almosteveryone used disposable contact lenses. His suits were at least amonth behind the current style. And with all those young men to choosefrom, Glory picked him to ask to dinner that evening.
Glory had been taught to respect the might of the dollar and thedisaster that comes of not spending it. She was a credit to her family;a sound, patriotic consumer. She could spend money faster, moresensibly than any of her frivolous friends. One fortunate young manwould find her an excellent wife. No dollar-hoarder would fill her mindwith subversive notions if he could prevent it.
Much as J.L. disliked having that particular young man to dinner, itdid afford the opportunity to spend some of the extra money that alwayscollected if you didn't watch very carefully. Being forced to pay asavings tax wouldn't do his career or social position any good, and hecertainly wouldn't think of putting it into a secret bank account.
The Hudson river was beneath him. He would soon be home. The thoughtreminded him that though the family had already passed the five yearmark in this house, he had still not made an appointment with hisarchitect.
Just before landing J.L. took the controls. The autopilot was supposedto land itself, but somehow he felt better doing it himself. A controlon the dash opened the garage, another retracted the overhead rotors.He d