With a rod of iron a par.., p.33
With a Rod of Iron: A Parable, page 33
“No bank’s going to lend us another dime.” Morvan had been moping around gloomily all day, and his attitude had infected the whole group.
And he was right. If it wasn’t newsworthy, then maybe it wasn’t so great an invention as they thought. Maybe no one would want to buy one?
Letting her thoughts turn increasingly negative, she had almost fallen asleep on the couch when the ringing of the phone brought her out of it.
“Yeah?” she responded.
“Can you get back over here?” The voice was Morvan’s, and it bordered on excited.
She perked up. “I’m not sure what the bus schedule is...”
“Well, hurry as fast as you can. We’ve got work to do.”
“Work?” She glanced at the clock.
“NASA wants a proposal from us tomorrow morning.”
“Huh?”
He repeated himself.
“What’s that mean?”
“They want to buy our technology.” She could hear him grinning. “We’ll lease it to them.”
* * *
“So someone was watching, after all.”
“Yeah.”
They were standing in an outer office. A young woman was seated demurely behind a massive desk. Her keyboard clicked steadily as she typed. Loran let her eyes roam the office, noting the hardwood paneling, the high, white ceiling, and the fluorescent lighting. Potted plants were scattered on shelves and dangled from cords. A window overlooking a grassy knoll let in faded sunlight, dimmed by the polarizing filters on the glass.
Morvan poured himself a cup of coffee from a corner pot and offered one to Loran. Though not much of a coffee drinker, she accepted.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Wired.”
“I feel beat.” Morvan downed half a cup in as many minutes.
“You look a little wiped.”
“But I’m alert,” he insisted. “I couldn’t be more alert.”
There was a beep from the secretary’s desk, and she spoke briefly into a microphone attached to her lapel.
“They’re ready for you,” she said at last.
Morvan gave Loran a strained smile, then they rose almost simultaneously and headed for the large, oversized doors that would take them to a conference room.
Morvan stopped to refill his cup before entering.
The conference room had been decorated like the outer office; the open window faced a parking lot, however, and the rays of the sun were not shining directly in. The fluorescent tubes overhead had to do all the work.
Another pot of coffee sat in a corner of the room; Morvan’s eyes went there first, as if he found comfort in knowing that there would be plenty for him to drink.
“I’ve got the reports for you,” said Morvan, popping open his briefcase even as he set it down on the table. Three men faced them from across the massive table; Loran recognized one as the NASA administrator. He had flown in from Houston last night just for this meeting; chances were he was nearly as tired as Morvan and Loran.
Morvan passed around the neatly bound copies of his report. Printed on glossy paper and perfect bound, they looked like something created by a far larger and much more stable company. Morvan had just about drained the last of the company’s coffers getting these printed—of course, he’d printed far more than they needed, but there was no way of telling how many people would be here.
“I’d like to introduce my assistant, Loran Scarlatti. She’s been involved in engineering the new technology, and she’ll be able to answer more questions than I probably can.”
Loran shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Doris or Joe would have been more qualified; in fact, there were a lot of people more qualified. Joe should really have been the one to come, but he was too busy—and just because he was the inventor didn’t mean he was the right man for trying to sell it. He was terribly shy and nearly went to pieces in front of an audience, even one this small.
Loran, on the other hand, was not only personally attractive, she was articulate. She could face any crowd with equanimity.
Morvan sat down, leaving the floor to her.
The three NASA people had not said much more than a word; Loran cleared her throat and began.
“I believe you’re Dr. Ames, am I right?” said Loran, nodding in the administrator’s direction.
He nodded. “Yes—that’s right. Excuse me. I’ve been rude—I should introduce us...” He stood up, walked around the table and shook Morvan’s hand, and then Loran’s, giving his name. “And this is Dr. Kovenburg and Lillenhurst.” Both men nodded, and stretched their hands out.
“You already have a basic understanding of what our product can do, no doubt.”
“We’ve been in contact with our people on the moon, yes,” agreed Dr. Ames. “It would have been nice if you had warned us.”
“And would you have believed us?”
“Point well taken. But it does create some interesting problems. With opening your...gate...you’ve destroyed the isolation of our base; it had been a self-contained environment, a separate biosphere. Now, it’s linked to Earth...”
“Not at the moment,” said Loran. “We shut it last night. We didn’t see the need to keep the link going constantly.”
“Too expensive, huh?”
“Not at all...” Loran flipped open the report. “If you look on page three, you’ll see that running the translocator uses little more than a light bulb does for the same period of time; one could leave a link up all the time, but under most conditions, that would hardly be necessary. If you’re concerned with maintaining atmospheric integrity between the Earth and the Moon, you could always install an airlock system on one side or the other.”
“Which you didn’t do.”
“Frankly, we didn’t think it would be necessary. We knew the air pressure on the moon facility was identical to that on Earth.” Loran frowned. “Are you really that upset?”
“No, no—go on,” Dr. Ames waved a hand.
“In any case, I don’t imagine we have to sell you on the benefits of the system. Obviously, it allows instantaneous transportation between any two sites, no matter how separated from one another. More significantly, once a gate link is established, the cost of transport from one site to the other is virtually nil—as costly as it is to carry stuff from one room to another. Therefore, the gates will allow the possibility of radically expanding the human presence on the lunar surface at negligible cost, as well as opening up the rest of the solar system to easy conquest. More significant yet, the stars now come within reach, because, once a translocator link has been established, we can get to them instantly.”
“But establishing the link...”
“Will require sending the gates out there first, which will of course take some time and money.”
“No doubt.”
Loran looked from face to face. “We can supply you with as many of these gates as you might want.”
“At a reasonable cost.”
“I think so. If you’ll look at our proposals on page—”
“I don’t think so.”
Loran stopped in mid-sentence. “What?”
“I said, I don’t think so. It’s an interesting stunt, but we’re not interested in doing business with people pulling stunts. Good day.” And the three men stood up together and walked out.
Loran and Morvan were left at the table, mouths agape.
“What happened?” Loran looked at Morvan.
“They’d already made up their minds.” Morvan was shaking his head in disbelief. “They’d already made up their little minds.”
“Don’t they understand—”
“Of course they don’t.” Morvan’s head was still wagging. “If they understood, they wouldn’t be such fools. They just don’t get it. To them, it’s just a stunt, a meaningless stunt.” He paused.
“Why would Dr. Ames come all the way out here if he thought...”
“He was already coming out here to inspect the McDonnal assembly plant—they make lunar shuttle engines there.”
“But...”
Morvan shrugged. “They’re stupid government bureaucrats. They’re fools, and I should have expected that.”
“But—”
“They’re enamored with rockets. If it isn’t noisy and bone rattling, then it doesn’t matter. Better propulsion. That’s what they want. But this has nothing to do with propulsion.”
“But—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Morvan closed his briefcase.
“But if they won’t buy—”
“They were not going to be a significant part of our business, anyway. I saw them more as a cheap advertisement.” He paused. “But we’ll sell them anyway—or lease them. Maybe not to NASA, but we’ll sell them to commuters, to ordinary people who want to travel cheap and easy. And the space travel, that’ll come if I have to pay for that myself with our profits.”
He made his way toward the door.
“You’re not upset?” Loran felt devastated.
“Of course I’m upset!” He whirled, eyes flashing. “But this isn’t the end of the world. Just because they’re too stupid to see an opportunity and take it doesn’t mean it has to ruin my day. NASA isn’t the only road to the stars.” He paused, setting his jaw. “I may not have a lot of money right now, but someday I will, and when I do, I’ll pay my own way to the sky.”
Loran just shook her head. The company was in trouble, and there was no getting around that.
“I want a meeting with everyone as soon as we get back. I should have expected this. I just should have expected this.”
Loran wondered if she should start typing her resume.
* * *
“Did they tell you to cut contact with us?” Frank was sitting at the conference table with the rest of them. The conference room for Lambert was not nearly as plush as the one back at NASA. It did, however, have a coffee pot in the corner and it probably could seat just as many people. At the moment, it was packed; not only people from Lambert were there; Moon people were there, too.
“No, they didn’t—and you haven’t gotten any orders about it?”
Frank shook his head. He looked over at the other astronauts, whose heads were doing the same sidewise dance.
“Then we don’t close it.”
“Even if they tell us to, I don’t know that we’d follow the order,” yawned Frank. “I like being able to come back and get a Big Mac or whatever, whenever I feel like it.” He paused. “You know, if you kept it turned on all the time, you could pipe cable television over to us, too. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He looked at his companions, and got quick and happy nods. The total population of the Moon base was only ten individuals; shuttles from the Earth to the Moon came only once every six months, rotating personnel about once a year—sometimes once every two years.
“It may be a NASA base, but that doesn’t mean we can’t expand things on our own. You have free time, don’t you?”
Frank nodded.
“I propose to put a larger gate on the Lunar surface and that we begin building a hotel and recreation area next to the NASA dome. NASA doesn’t own the Moon, now do they? And on your time off, does it matter what you do?”
“They have some pretty strict guidelines...” began Frank.
“All I want is for you to set up a gate...we’ll send it to you and you put it up outside. We’ll do all the rest.”
Frank shrugged. “We might still get in trouble, but what the heck—this is where the future is.”
Morvan cast his gaze around the assembled group. “You heard what the man said—this is where the future is. I know you’re disappointed—I’m disappointed. But maybe this’ll be a good thing—force us to do it on our own, you know? Besides, we were expecting to sell these gates to ordinary people, not just government agencies.” He paused. “That part of our plan stays in force.”
“But how will we pay for it? We were counting on NASA buying the first few, and then taking that money to finance our expansion into the civilian market.” John looked gloomy.
“So, we go to the banks again.”
“But they won’t give us more money. We’re already in debt up to our eyeballs.”
Morvan smiled a grim smile.
“I’ve found a bank that will lend to us.”
John rolled his eyes. “And how much are they going to charge us?”
“Enough.” Morvan frowned, mouth showing distaste. “But, as the old saying goes, ‘beggars can’t be choosers.’”
* * *
“Are we really going to get steady jobs?” Sam was leaning on a broom when Loran walked into the renovated factory. A couple weeks had passed since the last of the construction had been finished. The roof was patched, the glass replaced, the walls painted and the floor resurfaced. There wasn’t much need for Sam to be sweeping the floor. Since the ceremonies celebrating the job well done, no one had been inside but him. But he made a habit of rising every morning and going to the factory, where he faithfully swept and polished what he had only the day before swept and polished. The building gleamed, the windows shined—and Sam was dressed in sharp, clean clothes, a hopeful expression on his face.
She nodded in answer to his question. “The bank loan just came through. Mr. Lambert will be down here tomorrow to sign everyone up. It’s really happening.”
Sam’s face barely changed expression, but he carefully set the broom against the wall and then closed his eyes for a moment.
“Thank God,” he murmured.
“Worried?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“Folks have lied to us before. I can’t count the times the politicians have come down here and talked about the importance of making jobs for us, and sometimes they would—they’d get us out sweeping the gutters, or have us mow a lawn or two—just long enough for the TV to take our pictures. And then, once the cameras were gone, that was the end of the job. If we were lucky, we might even get paid a buck or two. Most of the time, we got nothing.”
“You got paid by us.”
“I know.” He scratched an ear. “That’s why I was hopeful.” He paused, looking at her. His face, once old, had smoothed remarkably. He had recently had his hair cut; where before he had been white-haired with black roots, he now was only black-haired. His once gnarled fingers were straight. The years of arthritis were barely a painful memory.
“You can’t begin to imagine what you’ve done for us, here,” said Sam. “You’ve turned the world upside down.”
“Only a neighborhood,” she pointed out.
“That’s all there is to my world—or was. You know, I was able to buy myself a television, and the cable people came out yesterday and hooked me up? My wife is so happy...you just don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “You just don’t know.”
“Makes you wonder why we never did anything like this before, doesn’t it?”
Sam nodded briefly, then shrugged. “The devil was still around, then. He’s not anymore. That makes a difference.”
“I told you that story, huh?”
Sam grinned. “I think you’ve told everyone you’ve ever met.”
She hung her head.
“But it’s a good story. I like it. Everyone does.” He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “It makes me hopeful.”
Loran couldn’t help but smile in response, even as the events flowed through her mind, repeating the familiar paths. She decided she’d never tire of relating it, at least to herself, for as long as she lived.
Which, she grinned, would be forever…
* * *
The manager’s face went white. “What do you mean, we’ve got the Devil living in the penthouse?”
“Does an individual by the name of Harlequin Smith reside in the Penthouse?”
“Well, yes—he’s been there a number of years; a very fine tenant, always quiet, never a problem. He always tips the help and come Christmas, he was always very generous.”
“Thank you.” Darlene smiled firmly, then turned away from the little man. Darlene was dressed in a light blue dress that came to the middle of her knees. Her blonde hair was long, with tight curls, but not frizzy. Her blue eyes were sharp and clear, enhanced by her long dark lashes and dark eyebrows on a face well-tanned. Loran hung back behind her, not clear on why she should even be present at a moment like this.
Loran was just barely back in California when Darlene had approached her one afternoon as she was waiting for her bus home. Introducing herself, she had taken Darlene to a sidewalk cafe and there bought her a cup of coffee; as they drank, she talked.
“I’m your guardian angel,” Darlene explained. The air had been so clear that day; she thought she had never seen a bluer sky. She accepted Darlene’s news with a minimum of surprise. Jesus had come back; was it so hard to imagine angels were introducing themselves?
“But I thought all angels were male.” Even as she said it, she regretted it. So much of what she’d been told in church hadn’t been quite right; why should she be surprised over something so minor?
“You’re thinking of the statement Jesus made to the Sadducees, right?”
Loran stared blankly.
“Perhaps you don’t know. You never were one to read your Bible much.” She sucked in a breath. “The Sadducees were a Jewish sect in Jesus’ day that didn’t believe in the resurrection. So they asked him a question about a hypothetical woman who had been widowed seven times: come the resurrection, they asked, which of her seven husbands would be able to claim her as their wife? Jesus responded that after the resurrection, people would ‘be like the angels, neither marrying nor giving in marriage.’ From that single phrase, developed the idea in much of the Church that there would be no sex in heaven, and that angels were genderless.”
“I didn’t really want a theological dissertation,” said Loran.
“I know. But you asked the question.”
“I did?”
“The bottom line, then: I’m an angel. Female angels worked with women for the most part; male angels with men. It was less of a problem that way—especially after the unfortunate incident recorded near the beginning of Genesis.”
