Pandora's Millions
By George O. Smith
Illustrated by Orban
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astounding Science-Fiction, June 1945.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"A lot has been written about mankind starving amid plenty. But neverbefore was a civilization confronted with the prospect of luxury amidbankruptcy—"
Keg Johnson was the executive type. He was the chief executive ofInterplanet Transport, a position of no mean height. Keg had becomethe chief executive by sheer guts, excellent judgment, and the abilityto gamble and win.
Like any high executive in a culture based on a technical background,Keg was well aware of science. He was no master of the scientificmethod nor of laboratory technique. He was able to understand mostof the long-haired concepts if they were presented in words of lessthan nine syllables, and he was more than anxious to make use of anyscientific discovery that came from the laboratory. He knew that thelaboratory paid off in the long run.
Keg Johnson was strictly a good business man. He played a good game andusually won, because he could size up any situation at a glance andprepare his next move while his opponent was finishing his preparatoryspeech.
So when Keg Johnson met Don Channing in the hallway of the courtroomin Buffalo, he was dangling an exact duplicate of the judge's watch—atimepiece no longer a rare collector's item.
He waved the watch before Channing's face.
"Brother," he said with a worried smile, "what have you done!"
"We won," said Channing cheerfully.
"You've lost!" said Keg.
"Lost?"
Keg's eyes followed the Terran Electric lawyer, Mark Kingman, as heleft the courtroom.
"He's been trying to put you out of business for a couple of years,Don, without any success. But you just put your own self out ofcommish. Venus Equilateral is about done for, Channing."
"Meaning?" asked Don, lowering his eyebrows. "Seems to me that you'rethe one that should worry. As I said, we'll give you your opportunityto buy in."
"Interplanet Transport is finished," agreed Johnson. He did notseem overly worried about the prospect of tossing a triplanetarycorporation into the furnace. "So is Venus Equilateral."
"Do go on," snapped Don. "It seems to me that we've just begun. We cantake over the job of shipping on the beams. The matter-transmitter willtake anything but life, so far. Pick it up here, shove it down thecommunications beams and get it over there. Just like that."
"That's wonderful," said Keg in a scathing voice. "But who and why willship what?"
"Huh?"
"Once they get recordings of Palanortis Whitewood logs on Mars, willwe ship? Once they get recordings of the Martian Legal to NorthernLanding, who will take the time to make the run by ship?"
"Right," agreed Channing.
"The bulk of your business, my brilliant friend, comes not fromlovesick swains calling up their gal friends across a hundred millionmiles of space. It comes from men sending orders to ship thirtythousand tons of Venusian Arachnia-web to Terra, and to ship tenthousand fliers to Southern Point, Venus, and to send fifty thousandcylinders of acetylene to the Solar Observatory on Mercury, and soforth. Follow me?"
"I think so," said Channing slowly. "There'll still be need forcommunications, though."
"Sure. And also spacelines. But there's one more item,