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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/32907-h.zip b/32907-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..43ea6a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/32907-h.zip diff --git a/32907-h/32907-h.htm b/32907-h/32907-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9cd9590 --- /dev/null +++ b/32907-h/32907-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1331 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of You Too Can Be A Millionaire, by Noel Loomis. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's You Too Can Be A Millionaire, by Noel Miller Loomis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: You Too Can Be A Millionaire + +Author: Noel Miller Loomis + +Release Date: June 20, 2010 [EBook #32907] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU TOO CAN BE A MILLIONAIRE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>YOU TOO CAN BE A MILLIONAIRE</h1> + +<h2>By Noel Loomis</h2> + +<p>[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science +Fiction November 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence +that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Life had become a mad scramble for points.</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="sidenote"><i>Money was worthless, yet no man dared go broke. It was all +pretty confusing to Mark until "Point-Plus-Pearlie" told him—YOU TOO +CAN BE A MILLIONAIRE </i></div> + +<p>Mark Renner looked anxiously backward as he ran up the street to the +place where the faded gold lettering on one window said "Jewelry." That +would be a good place to hide, he thought. Most of the plate-glass +windows and doors along the street were broken out as in fact they were +everywhere, and had been for twenty years—but one of the jewelry +windows and the door, protected by iron grating, were still whole and +would help to conceal him.</p> + +<p>With one final glance back at the corner, he climbed the grating, +scuttled across it, and dropped down. Then, keeping low, he ducked in +among the dusty old counters and stopped abruptly, listening.</p> + +<p>He heard Conley's slow, slapping footsteps as the tall man rounded the +corner and came up the street. He forced himself to breathe softly in +spite of the pounding of his heart. The dust rose a little around him +and got in his nostrils and he wanted to sneeze, but by sheer willpower +he choked it down.</p> + +<p>Conley was from the Machine—Central Audit Bureau—and the Machine knew +by now that Mark was three thousand points in the red. Three thousand +points—when you were supposed to be always within one day's point of a +balance. You were allowed twelve hundred points a day, so Mark was now +two and a half days in debit.</p> + +<p>He'd been walking the streets in a sort of daze, signing slips right and +left while his own pad of slips stayed in his pocket. He hadn't cared, +either, until now, because in this brave new world of the one +freedom—freedom from work—he was abominably unhappy.</p> + +<p>Everybody struggled all day to get enough points to stay even with +Central, and what good did it do them? You got even one day, but the +next day you had to start all over. There wasn't any point to it. So +he'd said to hell with it, and for five days now he'd ignored the +Machine entirely except to line up automatically once a day at the +concourse to have his card audited. And for five straight days the +balance had been in red.</p> + +<p>Then, today, he had seen Conley on the street, coming toward him. All of +a sudden Mark had been scared. He didn't know what Central would do to +him—nobody knew—but he didn't want to find out, either. He ran from +Conley.</p> + +<p>Now he crouched in the dust behind an empty counter while Conley's +footsteps approached. He held his breath when they got close, and when +they passed the broken window he was very thankful.</p> + +<p>It was late afternoon and he thought Conley would go back to Central. +Nobody knew much about Conley except that he represented the Machine and +that he seemed to disappear within it every afternoon.</p> + +<p>So, presently, Mark crawled out of the broken window and walked down to +Main Street. He looked carefully right and left and then, not seeing +Conley's tall form above the traffic, he wandered slowly down the +street, trying to figure things out. Why wasn't there anything worth +while to do? What was the reason for all the broken windows and empty +stores? Had there once been places where people could buy things like +food and clothes? Maybe—before Central Audit Bureau had come into +existence. Or had Central always been there?</p> + +<p>Mark saw the old lady sitting in the wheel-chair. He turned out absently +to walk by her. He saw her put her foot in his way but his brain wasn't +working. He stumbled over her foot.</p> + +<p>Instantly the old lady half arose from her chair as if in pain, +shrieking and brandishing her cane, the leg held stiffly out in front of +her. "You've injured me," she shrieked in a raucous voice. "You've hurt +my lame foot!"</p> + +<p>Mark stood there dumbly. He was a young man and so he didn't at once +foresee what was about to happen.</p> + +<p>A crowd gathered in no time. The old lady was putting on a show. Mark +didn't get it. He would have allowed her a thousand points—even fifteen +hundred—without argument. But he got the shock of his young life.</p> + +<p>"Thirty thousand points!" she screamed at him, and thrust a pad of slips +at him. "Sign my slip, please."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Mark took the pad automatically. He took the pencil she held out. He +started to sign. He'd never get a credit balance at the Central Bureau +now, but he didn't care. Maybe he'd get in so deep they'd give him some +work.</p> + +<p>The old lady's voice rose unexpectedly. "My feelings are hurt, too. He +did it deliberately. Five thousand points for my injured feelings."</p> + +<p>Dazedly Mark wrote down "Thirty-five thousand and no more," and signed +his name. He handed the pad back to her and started on. The crowd was +leaving.</p> + +<p>But a voice stopped him. A soft voice. "Wait, son." He looked back. He +started to go on, then he saw the old lady's eyes on his. "Stick +around," she said. There wasn't any raucousness in her voice now. "Wait +till the crowd goes. I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>Presently he was walking beside her while she laboriously operated the +two big hand-wheels that propelled the chair. Two blocks away she turned +into an empty building marked "Groceries." Mark helped her cross the +threshold.</p> + +<p>Inside, she amazed him by springing out of the chair and standing quite +steadily. She was small and she wasn't as old and wrinkled as he had +thought. "You get in the chair," she said. "I'll push you. I need the +exercise."</p> + +<p>A minute later she was pushing him briskly along the street while Mark +sat, still half dazed, in the wicker chair, her old red shawl was across +his lap.</p> + +<p>"Get cramps in my legs, to say nothing of my bottom," she observed, +"sitting there all day." She saw him stiffen. "Oh, you needn't be +shocked. After all, I'm old enough to be your grandmother. I was born in +1940, you know."</p> + +<p>"Nineteen-forty," Mark repeated, wonderingly. "Gee, that was back in the +days when everybody worked. I wish <i>I</i> could work."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a changed world," she observed. "In those days, you <i>had</i> to +work."</p> + +<p>At that instant Mark heard the ominous slapping footsteps. He looked +ahead, and there was Conley, easily noticeable because of the type N hat +a head above everybody else, coming toward them. Mark snatched up the +red shawl and wrapped it around his face to the nose and pulled his hat +low over his eyes. He watched from under the type L brim while Conley +approached. He held his breath while Conley fixed his deep eyes on him +for a moment, but Conley went by, and once more he was safe.</p> + +<p>The old lady trotted briskly along. They passed a few people who stared +at them, but Mark was thinking. "This is 2021," he observed. "You're +eighty-one years old. You must know all about things."</p> + +<p>"I'm quite spry," she pointed out, "though I must say I am working up a +sweat right now. No, no—" She pushed Mark back into the chair. "It's +good for me. Don't get enough exercise any more. Now you just sit there. +You're in a bad way. Anybody who'd fall for such a phony act and release +thirty-five thousand points without even an argument—well, of course," +she said archly, "I do have a well-turned ankle."</p> + +<p>But the enormity of Mark's debit with Central when the old lady should +turn in his slip, began to worry him. He wondered if he could get it +back from her. He wasn't happy with the world, and things were all +wrong, and all that, but still—well, he did have to live in it. +Thirty-five thousand points. He began to worry. He wished he knew what +the penalty would be. He wondered if the old lady knew. What were these +points all about anyway? "You must know," he said, "how the world got +into this mess."</p> + +<p>She chuckled, "For thirty-five thousand points, I guess you've got a +right to the story." She turned into the archway of a standard type B +apartment house.</p> + +<p>He wondered what she would do with all those points. What did anybody do +with them? Everybody had about the same living quarters. Food was +furnished by automatic vendors at the Hydroponic Farms. Clothes were +provided, ready-made; all you had to do was put your credit card in a +machine, punch the buttons for your measurements, and a suit would drop +down the chute.</p> + +<p>Mark got out of the chair and helped her inside with it. He took off his +hat and started uncertainly to leave, but she put her hand on his arm, +"No, no. Have supper with me. I'll tell you all about everything. Glad +to. There aren't many who want to know about things any more."</p> + +<p>Her apartment was neat and clean. It was hard for Mark to connect it +with an old woman shrieking points at him. "My name's Pearl. +Point-Plus-Pearlie, they call me. But my real name's Penelope. You can +call me Penelope."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Mark said gravely, and sat down. Penelope bustled into an +apron and began pulling packages from the freezer. "We'll have a feed, +you and I—a real feed." She chuckled pleasantly. "After all, you're +paying for it."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Mark squirmed uncomfortably.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you how all this started," Penelope said, popping open a can +of high-content protein. "Back before you were born there were insurance +companies. At first they were started to insure your life, and—"</p> + +<p>"Your life!" Mark frowned. "How—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind. Also, they insured you against loss by fire. Then it was +loss by collision of vehicles—you've never seen an auto, of course—and +so on. Finally they got to insuring you against hurting yourself when +you slipped on a cake of soap in the bathtub, and then they insured +against a suit for damages by someone who might stub his toe and fall +down and break a leg on your sidewalk. Follow me?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," said Mark doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Well, there were all kinds of lawsuits. Two men would be in an +accident. Both hurt. Their insurance companies would sue each other. +Suppose A knocked over a ladder and B fell down on top of him. B's fall +broke A's arm and it broke his own leg. A could sue B for breaking his +arm. B could sue A for making him fall. Well, suppose A was insured by +company X, and B was insured by company Y. A and B filed claims against +each other's companies, and everybody went to court."</p> + +<p>"You mean they didn't agree on damages?" Mark asked incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Exactly." Penelope cut off the top of a bottle of enzymes. "It was +pretty dumb. But pretty soon the companies got wise. They formed working +agreements.</p> + +<p>"When two companies carried insurance on two persons involved in an +accident, the companies just presented their claims to each other, and +the one with the biggest claim against him paid the difference, while +each company paid off the claim of the one it represented. You can see +what eventually happened."</p> + +<p>She punched a button and a dinette table popped out of the wall.</p> + +<p>"Companies insured people for more and more types of damage, even +against being insulted or against a claim for damages for being +insulted. The big companies eliminated the small ones, and it was just a +matter of bookkeeping among those that were left. Eventually the +government took it over."</p> + +<p>"But look," said Mark, "I don't see—"</p> + +<p>"Don't rush me." Penelope put a can into the container-dissolver and +punched the button that set out the plates and silverware on the tiny +table. "You see, pretty soon everybody was insured for everything +possible. People were collecting right and left, mostly small amounts +but lots of them. But it took quite a bit of time to file claims and so +on. And also, a man spent all he made buying insurance to protect +himself. It was a wicked circle. Nobody could quit buying insurance and +nobody dared quit filing claims. That's when the government took over. +They simplified things. Once a day you turn your slips into Central and +the Machine audits your account. That's all there is to it."</p> + +<p>"But there's nothing else to do," Mark objected. "No entertainment, no +work."</p> + +<p>"Why should there be entertainment? Entertainment means work for +somebody. No, Central—which is the government, of course—has +eliminated work for everybody and at the same time has provided +something to keep everybody busy. What work must be done is done by +automatic, self-lubricating, self-repairing, self-renewing machinery." +She sighed. "It's a brave new world. Everything is neatly worked out. +Everybody spends all their time gathering points to offset the points +they lose gathering points—and nobody seems to mind except a few rebels +like you and me. I saw that rebellious look in your eyes when you signed +my slip. That's why I invited you to come along with me. But, as I said, +Central keeps everybody busy all day and half the night trying to +balance themselves. There's no labor problem, no unemployment, no +relief, no worry about anything." She paused, to dip the vitamins out of +the dissolver. "The only catch is—it's so damned monotonous."</p> + +<p>Mark blinked, but Penelope whirled on him, the dissolver in one hand. +"Why do you think I sit out there and put on my act all day long? Not to +get points, though I confess the points are the measure of my +success—but because life is too dull otherwise." She dished out the +vitamins.</p> + +<p>"You say the government did all this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>A thought struck Mark. "Who is the government?"</p> + +<p>Penelope was filling glasses from the ice-water faucet. She turned her +head and stared at him like a bright-eyed bird. "To tell you the truth, +Mark, as far as I know the men who used to make up the government +disappeared after the last war, about the time all this automatic +machinery was put in. We used to have an election every so often, but I +haven't heard that word for twenty-five years. Do you know what I +think?"</p> + +<p>"No," Mark said attentively.</p> + +<p>"I don't think there is any more government!" Penelope said +dramatically. "I think all that's left are the Machine and Central Audit +Bureau—which is nothing but a giant posting machine."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen it—Central, I mean? I see the concourse where we line up +every day to have our cards posted—but what's behind those twelve +hundred windows?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>She nodded briskly. "I saw it from one of the last planes. Central +covers miles and miles in both directions. They said then it was the +biggest machine on earth—and do you know, Mark"—she paused +dramatically—"I think the Machine is the government! Roll up your +chair, Mark."</p> + +<p>Mark did. "But doesn't there have to be somebody to take care of the +Machine?" he asked, holding her chair.</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of. They said it was perfect—that barring an +earthquake it would run for a thousand years without a human hand."</p> + +<p>The iron-juice cocktail was pretty good, the way Penelope had flavored +it with enzymes. But Mark inevitably got back to the thing that worried +him. "What will happen when that release slip of mine goes through for +thirty-five thousand points?"</p> + +<p>Penelope raised her white eyebrows. "I don't know, but undoubtedly +something drastic. I'll tell you what. I'll hold your slip for a while +and you go out and see if you can get some points on your credit side. +Stir up a little trouble. Get the points first and argue after."...</p> + +<p>Mark went out and tried to get some points next day, but he couldn't +seem to get his heart in his work. It was all so pointless. Why couldn't +the old lady give him back that slip, anyway? Mark got pretty much in +the dumps, and after he managed to get his foot stepped on and demanded +three hundred points, only to be countered by a claim of four hundred +for hurting the other man's instep, he began to feel very low indeed.</p> + +<p>At the end of the week he was walking slowly along the street watching +for Conley, because he was getting further in the red every day, when he +saw a foot stuck out in his way and heard a voice say, "Don't you +stumble over my lame foot," and he looked up and saw the old lady. Her +black eyes were soft. "You don't look happy, Mark."</p> + +<p>"No." He held out his card.</p> + +<p>"Hm." Her keen old eyes shot back to his. "Thirty-two hundred in the +red. That's more than before. You've lost two hundred points this week, +Mark."</p> + +<p>"I know," he said dully.</p> + +<p>"Here. Push me, Mark." She pulled the shawl around her and Mark started +pushing the wheel-chair. "You're a nice boy," she said when they reached +a quiet street. "You just can't adjust yourself to this modern world."</p> + +<p>"I want a job," Mark said stubbornly. "Something to do besides—well, +some kind of mark to aim at, I guess. This point business is just +putting in time. I'm not creating anything. Even if I could fasten +zippers on feather-beds, I'd be doing something worth while, because +it'd be used. But this way of living is like digging a hole and then +filling it in again. Why, you don't even dare to get into a fight. +Somebody would collect a thousand points every time you hit him. The +standard price of a black eye is three thousand. You have to be pretty +careful about things like that. And there's always Conley."</p> + +<p>"Well," Penelope said, "I'm going to make you a proposition. I'll hold +up your slip for sixty days, and in the meantime I'll teach you how to +get ahead of the game. I'll teach you the tricks of the trade, just as +old Point-a-Minute Charlie taught me. They say he averaged a point a +minute all his life."</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?" asked Mark, interested.</p> + +<p>The old lady pondered. "Come to think of it, I don't know. I remember +the last time I talked to him his credit balance was 98,000." She +frowned at the tremendous, low-lying dome that covered the horizon in +the distance and marked Central Audit Bureau. "I haven't seen him since +then."</p> + +<p>"Hm," said Mark.</p> + +<p>"Well, now," Penelope said briskly. "I'll make you a regular business +deal. I'll teach you, and for all you get, you give me twenty per cent. +See how many you can get. Try for ten thousand. That'll give you +something to shoot at."</p> + +<p>"Maybe I can beat the Machine," Mark said eagerly.</p> + +<p>Penelope swallowed. "They say you can't beat the Machine. But I guess it +won't hurt to try."</p> + +<p>Mark did well. At first he just walked down the street stopping people +as fast as he could get to them. "You didn't recognize me, sir," he +would say indignantly. "I met you at Central concourse two years ago. +Remember? You stood right in front of me in line for three hours, and we +talked about our new suits. Remember? My feelings are injured because +you ignored me just now. Fifty points. Will you sign my slip, please?"</p> + +<p>His credit reached the black the first week. He was netting five hundred +points a day, and it was fun, but Penelope said, "We'll go for bigger +stakes. This is kindergarten stuff. Now here's the way you start...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>So the next morning Mark managed to get himself knocked down four times, +and each time he came up with a skinned knee and collected from five +hundred to eight hundred and fifty points. He was learning, Penelope +assured him when he gleefully showed her his card at the end of the day. +Mark was elated. That day he had gathered fifty-one hundred points.</p> + +<p>"But this can get monotonous, too," Penelope said. "Anyway, you can't go +around forever with a sandpapered knee. You're learning fast, and you're +learning right. Old Point-a-Minute Charlie was the best there was, in +his day, and he always said you make more points guessing character than +you do falling down. Know your victim before you have an accident, and +then hit him for all he will pay and hit him quick—the way I did you." +She chuckled. "My commission for today is one thousand and twenty +points. Here, sign my slip, please."</p> + +<p>Mark signed. It was a cheap price to pay for the fact that life was no +longer pointless. He decided he'd try to gather a credit of one hundred +thousand points.</p> + +<p>He worked on bigger stuff. He didn't try just everybody. He picked his +signers with care. He slept until nine every morning and he and Penelope +played two-handed bridge at a tenth of a point a point until midnight. +He felt sorry for the poor suckers who had to get out at sunup and tread +the sidewalks until dark to get enough points to satisfy Central. They +were working like slaves, while he was living the life of Point-a-Minute +Charlie.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely existence. He forgot about Penelope's slip for +thirty-five thousand. He could almost pay it off anyway. Then came the +day when he pulled his grand coup.</p> + +<p>He spent a week planning it, with Penelope's shrewd advice. He +remembered what she had said about the man on the ladder in the +nineteen-forties. He sandpapered his back and painted an irregular spot +with merthiolate and iodine, and practiced twisting his back until it +looked out of shape. Then he went out and watched for an absent-minded, +nervous, excitable-looking man to try his next effort on.</p> + +<p>Penelope's biggest advice was, "Preparation is half the points," so it +was three days before Mark found the right person. After he found him it +was very simple. He signaled Penelope to follow, and then he walked +behind the man until they came to a high curb.</p> + +<p>Mark moved out to the left. The man started to step up on the curb. Mark +darted across in front of the man just as the man raised his foot. Mark +managed to stumble exactly in front of the man. His arms went out and +one hand caught the little man's leg. The little man fell squarely on +top of him, assisted by a slight push from Penelope.</p> + +<p>Mark groaned heart-breakingly. In a moment there was a crowd. The little +man was getting up, bewildered, and automatically trying to dust off his +type K suit. Mark lay half on the curb, half off, squirming like a +broken-back snake. "My back," he moaned piteously. "Oh, my back."</p> + +<p>The little man seemed paralyzed at the enormity of the thing he had +done. He stared at Mark and Mark squirmed harder and moaned louder. Then +Penelope hobbled up and pulled Mark's shirttail out of his trousers. The +iodine spot on his back looked yellow and purple, and there were gasps +from the crowd.</p> + +<p>"He did it!" Mark said, glaring accusingly at the little man. "He +tripped me. He tripped me and broke my back!"</p> + +<p>Penelope was putting on a good act too, crying and wringing her hands +and moaning. "My poor boy!" she said, over and over. A woman in the +crowd came up and made a very expressive raspberry in the little man's +face. The little man was not only bewildered; he was frightened. Mark +adjudged the time had come.</p> + +<p>"Points for my broken back!" he cried. Penelope held out a slip to the +little man. He signed it dazedly, then he slipped out of the crowd, +while three men picked up Mark and laid him tenderly in Penelope's +reclining wheel-chair.</p> + +<p>Mark could hardly contain himself. As soon as they were safely out of +sight he said excitedly, "Let me see the slip."</p> + +<p>Penelope looked around. She kept pushing him but she handed over the +slip.</p> + +<p>"Fifty thousand points!" Mark read under his breath. "Isn't that +wonderful!" He couldn't remember ever having felt so elated in his life.</p> + +<p>Penelope was shaking her head wonderingly. "That was a good act," she +said. "I'd never have had the nerve to try that myself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's nothing." Mark was enthusiastic. "As soon as I get fitted up +with a magnelite brace so it'll look good, I'm going to knock a piece +out of that curbing, and then if I can find out who's the registered +owner of it I'll hit him for twenty-five thousand."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Mark got the twenty-five thousand. The owner of the sidewalk was finally +convinced that Mark's broken back was worth a lot. From then on there +was no holding Mark. Pretending to act for the little man who had +originally knocked him down, he located the woman who had made a +raspberry in the little man's face and collected another two thousand; +the woman didn't recognize Mark, because Mark's features were changed a +little.</p> + +<p>Then Mark spotted two others who had made threatening noises and +collected five hundred from each, and from another who expressed doubt +that he was really hurt, Mark got a thousand points. There was nothing +to it, really. Most people had regular beats, and all Mark had to do was +sit at one side in Penelope's wheel-chair and wait for them to come by. +He would have collected more if he could have remembered more faces. He +saw Conley go by once a day but now he wasn't afraid. He thought Conley +looked at him disappointedly.</p> + +<p>A couple of weeks later he got his card back from the Machine at Central +and looked at it with great satisfaction. He had a hundred and thirteen +thousand points to his credit. He met Penelope and they went to her +apartment for dinner. Jubilantly Mark got all the fancy food—even some +synthetic meat—that he could get on his card, and they prepared for a +feast.</p> + +<p>"The only thing is," Penelope said as she punched the dishes on the +table, "I'm scared. I have a feeling you shouldn't have gone over a +hundred thousand."</p> + +<p>"Is that why you never cashed my slip for thirty-five thousand?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. "That's mostly the reason. My balance is over eighty +thousand and I was afraid."</p> + +<p>"Afraid of what?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Just afraid."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mark, "I'm not. I don't see what Central can do to a person +for getting points. There's no rule against it."</p> + +<p>"It's dangerous," Penelope insisted.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, I have made a decision. A hundred thousand points—that's +nothing." His head was high. "I'm going after a million points!"</p> + +<p>Penelope gasped. "Mark, you mustn't do anything like that. You have no +use for a million points."</p> + +<p>"No," Mark said complacently, "but it's a lot of fun getting them. And +it gives me something worth while to do. We'll sit up till three o'clock +every morning and play bridge, and I'll stay in bed till noon, and dream +up new stunts. I'll pull one a week. Life is going to be worth living."</p> + +<p>The announcing light showed at the door. Penelope pressed the admittance +button. A tall, thin man came in a moment later. "Mark Renner?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Mark jumped. "Conley!" Mark's stomach had a funny feeling in it.</p> + +<p>"They told me I would find you here," Conley said.</p> + +<p>Penelope had recovered enough to gasp. "What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"I'm from Central Audit Bureau."</p> + +<p>"That's just lovely," Penelope said, "but it doesn't mean anything to us +but a place where we get our cards balanced."</p> + +<p>"It should mean something to you," Conley said hollowly. "Central is the +government."</p> + +<p>Penelope stared at him. "Sit down, please. I thought Central was just a +machine."</p> + +<p>"It is something more than a machine. There is a small corps of persons +who live inside the machine to service it and occasionally adjust it, +and those persons really are the government—that is, all the government +we have." He sat down stiffly, his back straight. "Now then, Mr. Renner, +your card today showed a credit balance of a hundred and thirteen +thousand points. Is that correct?"</p> + +<p>Mark swallowed. "Yes." He looked at Penelope. She was pale. With +difficulty Mark asked, "Is it your job to check up on people, to see if +they are entitled to their points?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my, no. Central doesn't care about that. In fact, Central doesn't +care how much anybody's debit is. We figure as long as a man is in debt +he'll try to pay it off. They always do, at least. No, we never bother +with debits, and I don't suppose we ever would."</p> + +<p>Mark breathed a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"But a credit of over a hundred thousand is something else," said +Conley. "The machines won't handle six figures without trouble, you see, +so there has to be a penalty." He looked very sad. "Now, then, I shall +have to—"</p> + +<p>"Wait!" cried Penelope. "His credit is a hundred and thirteen +thousand—but I have his slip for thirty-five thousand. If I turn it in, +that would fix it up for him, wouldn't it."</p> + +<p>Mark felt a warm wave of gratitude toward Penelope. She was a million +per cent; no question about it.</p> + +<p>"Well—yes, I suppose so. We don't like these last-minute adjustments, +but I suppose—"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>She came waving the slip and thrust it into Conley's face.</p> + +<p>"There!" she said triumphantly. "Put that on my account."</p> + +<p>Conley looked a little sad. "This is your slip?" he asked Mark.</p> + +<p>Mark nodded gratefully.</p> + +<p>"Let me have your credit card, Miss Penelope. Now, then, I'll transfer +these points—hm." Conley's eyebrows raised. "Do you know what your +balance is now, Miss Penelope?"</p> + +<p>Penelope's mouth shot open and she popped her hand across it.</p> + +<p>"You have now a hundred and twenty-two thousand," Conley said. He got up +from his chair. "Well, I'm sorry, folks. That's the way it is."</p> + +<p>Mark gulped. "What way?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Penelope will have to come with me."</p> + +<p>Mark was on his feet. "If she goes, I go," he said dramatically.</p> + +<p>Conley looked at him. "If you feel that way about it, there won't be any +trouble at all. You did go over, so I can take you in too."</p> + +<p>"In where?" Penelope demanded.</p> + +<p>"A certain number of persons is required to keep Central going, as I +said—actually to be the government. But most of the population today is +so apathetic they wouldn't be of any use at all, so years ago some of us +who were in Central got an idea. We discovered that whenever any citizen +rebels against the monotony of life today, he or she eventually winds up +trying to gather a lot of points, because that is the only outlet for +energy and ambition. That is the kind of person we need, so when anybody +gets over a hundred thousand, the machine warns us. We go after them." +Conley picked up his type N hat. "Well, see you in the morning. Punch in +your cards at window 1000. We'll do the rest. And by the way—" He was +at the door. "We start work at eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>Mark brightened. "Did you say <i>work</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's only four hours a day, five days a week. The rest of the time +is your own, only of course you can't come Outside. It would upset +things if the general public learned about us. Yes, it's a regular job; +not hard work, but steady work. Gives you something to aim for; there +are promotions, you know, and extra bonuses for those who show promise."</p> + +<p>"Work!" Mark said. "Steady work? You mean there'll be something to do +all the time?"</p> + +<p>"Five days a week," said Conley.</p> + +<p>Mark said, "This is so sudden. Why don't you sit down a minute while we +let it soak in? We have plenty of enzymes and stuff for a guest, don't +we, Miss Penelope? Why not stay for supper, Conley?"</p> + +<p>"No, thanks," said Conley. "We have beefsteak and hot biscuits for +supper in Central."</p> + +<p>Penelope shrieked with joy. "Beef!"</p> + +<p>Mark was puzzled. "What's that?"</p> + +<p>"It's an old-fashioned food," said Conley. "Rather tasty too."</p> + +<p>"Please sit down," Penelope begged, "and tell us more."</p> + +<p>Conley looked at his watch. "Believe I will. My feet get a little tired +all day from pounding the pavement. But there isn't much more to tell. +You'll find out everything tomorrow. And I'm sure you'll like it. We try +to give each person work to challenge him."</p> + +<p>"What if a person wouldn't want to go to Central?"</p> + +<p>"Very few ever object. Once in a while they are afraid and run away, but +we just register their number with all the machines, and whenever that +number is presented for food or clothes, the machines reject the card." +He paused. "A very neat arrangement. Of course, inside of Central the +point system as you know it now will be of no value whatever. We use +money in Central."</p> + +<p>Penelope had a can of synthetic meat in her hands. "Beef!" she said +suddenly, and hurled the can into the disintichute. "I'm going to starve +all night so I can enjoy eating tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"So nobody ever gets away?" asked Mark.</p> + +<p>"Very seldom, though there's one fellow playing a game with Central. He +must have gotten wind of us, and he keeps careful check on his points. +About once every three months he starts going strong. He'll be putting +in eight or ten thousand points a day. Then his balance will shoot up +over a hundred thousand and I'll go after him, but he's always just +signed away a lot of points. Would you believe it, the last time he had +given away fifty thousand points to a fellow who claimed a broken back. +He said he knew it was a phony, but he had me there and he laughed at +me, for he had signed away the points. The slip showed up next day."</p> + +<p>Mark looked at Penelope and grinned. "We should have known that nobody +in his right mind would give away fifty thousand points."</p> + +<p>Conley raised his hand in a salute. "See you tomorrow at Central. If +they don't keep you busy, look me up."</p> + +<p>Mark watched him leave. Then he looked beamingly at Penelope. "Work! +Every day! Eight o'clock! We'll have to get up before breakfast! Isn't +it wonderful?"</p> + +<p>But Penelope's bird-like eyes were bright. "He said there would be +promotions and bonuses for those who show promise," she recalled. "I +wish we had known that. We could have made a cleanup and gone into +Central with a record that would make their eyes pop out. Anyhow"—she +dug her pad of release blanks out of her pocket and began to figure on +the back. "Let's see, fifty thousand from the little man who's playing a +game with Central, twenty-five from the owner of the sidewalk, two +thousand for the raspberry, five hundred each from two who made noises +of disrespect, and a thousand from the man who doubted that your back +was really broken. You could have collected two thousand from that last +one," she said absently, "if you hadn't got cold feet. Anyway, that's +seventy-nine thousand points. Now, then, twenty per cent of that is +fifteen thousand, eight hundred points."</p> + +<p>She wrote rapidly and held out the pad to Mark. "Sign my slip, please."</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's You Too Can Be A Millionaire, by Noel Miller Loomis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU TOO CAN BE A MILLIONAIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 32907-h.htm or 32907-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/9/0/32907/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/32907-h/images/cover.jpg b/32907-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c4b4e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/32907-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/32907-h/images/illus.jpg b/32907-h/images/illus.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4734bbe --- /dev/null +++ b/32907-h/images/illus.jpg diff --git a/32907.txt b/32907.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b3b75d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/32907.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1126 @@ +Project Gutenberg's You Too Can Be A Millionaire, by Noel Miller Loomis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: You Too Can Be A Millionaire + +Author: Noel Miller Loomis + +Release Date: June 20, 2010 [EBook #32907] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU TOO CAN BE A MILLIONAIRE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + YOU TOO CAN BE A MILLIONAIRE + + By Noel Loomis + +[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science +Fiction November 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence +that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +[Sidenote: _Money was worthless, yet no man dared go broke. It was all +pretty confusing to Mark until "Point-Plus-Pearlie" told him--YOU TOO +CAN BE A MILLIONAIRE _] + + +[Illustration: _Life had become a mad scramble for points._] + + +Mark Renner looked anxiously backward as he ran up the street to the +place where the faded gold lettering on one window said "Jewelry." That +would be a good place to hide, he thought. Most of the plate-glass +windows and doors along the street were broken out as in fact they were +everywhere, and had been for twenty years--but one of the jewelry +windows and the door, protected by iron grating, were still whole and +would help to conceal him. + +With one final glance back at the corner, he climbed the grating, +scuttled across it, and dropped down. Then, keeping low, he ducked in +among the dusty old counters and stopped abruptly, listening. + +He heard Conley's slow, slapping footsteps as the tall man rounded the +corner and came up the street. He forced himself to breathe softly in +spite of the pounding of his heart. The dust rose a little around him +and got in his nostrils and he wanted to sneeze, but by sheer willpower +he choked it down. + +Conley was from the Machine--Central Audit Bureau--and the Machine knew +by now that Mark was three thousand points in the red. Three thousand +points--when you were supposed to be always within one day's point of a +balance. You were allowed twelve hundred points a day, so Mark was now +two and a half days in debit. + +He'd been walking the streets in a sort of daze, signing slips right and +left while his own pad of slips stayed in his pocket. He hadn't cared, +either, until now, because in this brave new world of the one +freedom--freedom from work--he was abominably unhappy. + +Everybody struggled all day to get enough points to stay even with +Central, and what good did it do them? You got even one day, but the +next day you had to start all over. There wasn't any point to it. So +he'd said to hell with it, and for five days now he'd ignored the +Machine entirely except to line up automatically once a day at the +concourse to have his card audited. And for five straight days the +balance had been in red. + +Then, today, he had seen Conley on the street, coming toward him. All of +a sudden Mark had been scared. He didn't know what Central would do to +him--nobody knew--but he didn't want to find out, either. He ran from +Conley. + +Now he crouched in the dust behind an empty counter while Conley's +footsteps approached. He held his breath when they got close, and when +they passed the broken window he was very thankful. + +It was late afternoon and he thought Conley would go back to Central. +Nobody knew much about Conley except that he represented the Machine and +that he seemed to disappear within it every afternoon. + +So, presently, Mark crawled out of the broken window and walked down to +Main Street. He looked carefully right and left and then, not seeing +Conley's tall form above the traffic, he wandered slowly down the +street, trying to figure things out. Why wasn't there anything worth +while to do? What was the reason for all the broken windows and empty +stores? Had there once been places where people could buy things like +food and clothes? Maybe--before Central Audit Bureau had come into +existence. Or had Central always been there? + +Mark saw the old lady sitting in the wheel-chair. He turned out absently +to walk by her. He saw her put her foot in his way but his brain wasn't +working. He stumbled over her foot. + +Instantly the old lady half arose from her chair as if in pain, +shrieking and brandishing her cane, the leg held stiffly out in front of +her. "You've injured me," she shrieked in a raucous voice. "You've hurt +my lame foot!" + +Mark stood there dumbly. He was a young man and so he didn't at once +foresee what was about to happen. + +A crowd gathered in no time. The old lady was putting on a show. Mark +didn't get it. He would have allowed her a thousand points--even fifteen +hundred--without argument. But he got the shock of his young life. + +"Thirty thousand points!" she screamed at him, and thrust a pad of slips +at him. "Sign my slip, please." + + * * * * * + +Mark took the pad automatically. He took the pencil she held out. He +started to sign. He'd never get a credit balance at the Central Bureau +now, but he didn't care. Maybe he'd get in so deep they'd give him some +work. + +The old lady's voice rose unexpectedly. "My feelings are hurt, too. He +did it deliberately. Five thousand points for my injured feelings." + +Dazedly Mark wrote down "Thirty-five thousand and no more," and signed +his name. He handed the pad back to her and started on. The crowd was +leaving. + +But a voice stopped him. A soft voice. "Wait, son." He looked back. He +started to go on, then he saw the old lady's eyes on his. "Stick +around," she said. There wasn't any raucousness in her voice now. "Wait +till the crowd goes. I want to talk to you." + +Presently he was walking beside her while she laboriously operated the +two big hand-wheels that propelled the chair. Two blocks away she turned +into an empty building marked "Groceries." Mark helped her cross the +threshold. + +Inside, she amazed him by springing out of the chair and standing quite +steadily. She was small and she wasn't as old and wrinkled as he had +thought. "You get in the chair," she said. "I'll push you. I need the +exercise." + +A minute later she was pushing him briskly along the street while Mark +sat, still half dazed, in the wicker chair, her old red shawl was across +his lap. + +"Get cramps in my legs, to say nothing of my bottom," she observed, +"sitting there all day." She saw him stiffen. "Oh, you needn't be +shocked. After all, I'm old enough to be your grandmother. I was born in +1940, you know." + +"Nineteen-forty," Mark repeated, wonderingly. "Gee, that was back in the +days when everybody worked. I wish _I_ could work." + +"Well, it's a changed world," she observed. "In those days, you _had_ to +work." + +At that instant Mark heard the ominous slapping footsteps. He looked +ahead, and there was Conley, easily noticeable because of the type N hat +a head above everybody else, coming toward them. Mark snatched up the +red shawl and wrapped it around his face to the nose and pulled his hat +low over his eyes. He watched from under the type L brim while Conley +approached. He held his breath while Conley fixed his deep eyes on him +for a moment, but Conley went by, and once more he was safe. + +The old lady trotted briskly along. They passed a few people who stared +at them, but Mark was thinking. "This is 2021," he observed. "You're +eighty-one years old. You must know all about things." + +"I'm quite spry," she pointed out, "though I must say I am working up a +sweat right now. No, no--" She pushed Mark back into the chair. "It's +good for me. Don't get enough exercise any more. Now you just sit there. +You're in a bad way. Anybody who'd fall for such a phony act and release +thirty-five thousand points without even an argument--well, of course," +she said archly, "I do have a well-turned ankle." + +But the enormity of Mark's debit with Central when the old lady should +turn in his slip, began to worry him. He wondered if he could get it +back from her. He wasn't happy with the world, and things were all +wrong, and all that, but still--well, he did have to live in it. +Thirty-five thousand points. He began to worry. He wished he knew what +the penalty would be. He wondered if the old lady knew. What were these +points all about anyway? "You must know," he said, "how the world got +into this mess." + +She chuckled, "For thirty-five thousand points, I guess you've got a +right to the story." She turned into the archway of a standard type B +apartment house. + +He wondered what she would do with all those points. What did anybody do +with them? Everybody had about the same living quarters. Food was +furnished by automatic vendors at the Hydroponic Farms. Clothes were +provided, ready-made; all you had to do was put your credit card in a +machine, punch the buttons for your measurements, and a suit would drop +down the chute. + +Mark got out of the chair and helped her inside with it. He took off his +hat and started uncertainly to leave, but she put her hand on his arm, +"No, no. Have supper with me. I'll tell you all about everything. Glad +to. There aren't many who want to know about things any more." + +Her apartment was neat and clean. It was hard for Mark to connect it +with an old woman shrieking points at him. "My name's Pearl. +Point-Plus-Pearlie, they call me. But my real name's Penelope. You can +call me Penelope." + +"Thank you," Mark said gravely, and sat down. Penelope bustled into an +apron and began pulling packages from the freezer. "We'll have a feed, +you and I--a real feed." She chuckled pleasantly. "After all, you're +paying for it." + + * * * * * + +Mark squirmed uncomfortably. + +"I'll tell you how all this started," Penelope said, popping open a can +of high-content protein. "Back before you were born there were insurance +companies. At first they were started to insure your life, and--" + +"Your life!" Mark frowned. "How--" + +"Never mind. Also, they insured you against loss by fire. Then it was +loss by collision of vehicles--you've never seen an auto, of course--and +so on. Finally they got to insuring you against hurting yourself when +you slipped on a cake of soap in the bathtub, and then they insured +against a suit for damages by someone who might stub his toe and fall +down and break a leg on your sidewalk. Follow me?" + +"I think so," said Mark doubtfully. + +"Well, there were all kinds of lawsuits. Two men would be in an +accident. Both hurt. Their insurance companies would sue each other. +Suppose A knocked over a ladder and B fell down on top of him. B's fall +broke A's arm and it broke his own leg. A could sue B for breaking his +arm. B could sue A for making him fall. Well, suppose A was insured by +company X, and B was insured by company Y. A and B filed claims against +each other's companies, and everybody went to court." + +"You mean they didn't agree on damages?" Mark asked incredulously. + +"Exactly." Penelope cut off the top of a bottle of enzymes. "It was +pretty dumb. But pretty soon the companies got wise. They formed working +agreements. + +"When two companies carried insurance on two persons involved in an +accident, the companies just presented their claims to each other, and +the one with the biggest claim against him paid the difference, while +each company paid off the claim of the one it represented. You can see +what eventually happened." + +She punched a button and a dinette table popped out of the wall. + +"Companies insured people for more and more types of damage, even +against being insulted or against a claim for damages for being +insulted. The big companies eliminated the small ones, and it was just a +matter of bookkeeping among those that were left. Eventually the +government took it over." + +"But look," said Mark, "I don't see--" + +"Don't rush me." Penelope put a can into the container-dissolver and +punched the button that set out the plates and silverware on the tiny +table. "You see, pretty soon everybody was insured for everything +possible. People were collecting right and left, mostly small amounts +but lots of them. But it took quite a bit of time to file claims and so +on. And also, a man spent all he made buying insurance to protect +himself. It was a wicked circle. Nobody could quit buying insurance and +nobody dared quit filing claims. That's when the government took over. +They simplified things. Once a day you turn your slips into Central and +the Machine audits your account. That's all there is to it." + +"But there's nothing else to do," Mark objected. "No entertainment, no +work." + +"Why should there be entertainment? Entertainment means work for +somebody. No, Central--which is the government, of course--has +eliminated work for everybody and at the same time has provided +something to keep everybody busy. What work must be done is done by +automatic, self-lubricating, self-repairing, self-renewing machinery." +She sighed. "It's a brave new world. Everything is neatly worked out. +Everybody spends all their time gathering points to offset the points +they lose gathering points--and nobody seems to mind except a few rebels +like you and me. I saw that rebellious look in your eyes when you signed +my slip. That's why I invited you to come along with me. But, as I said, +Central keeps everybody busy all day and half the night trying to +balance themselves. There's no labor problem, no unemployment, no +relief, no worry about anything." She paused, to dip the vitamins out of +the dissolver. "The only catch is--it's so damned monotonous." + +Mark blinked, but Penelope whirled on him, the dissolver in one hand. +"Why do you think I sit out there and put on my act all day long? Not to +get points, though I confess the points are the measure of my +success--but because life is too dull otherwise." She dished out the +vitamins. + +"You say the government did all this?" + +"Yes." + +A thought struck Mark. "Who is the government?" + +Penelope was filling glasses from the ice-water faucet. She turned her +head and stared at him like a bright-eyed bird. "To tell you the truth, +Mark, as far as I know the men who used to make up the government +disappeared after the last war, about the time all this automatic +machinery was put in. We used to have an election every so often, but I +haven't heard that word for twenty-five years. Do you know what I +think?" + +"No," Mark said attentively. + +"I don't think there is any more government!" Penelope said +dramatically. "I think all that's left are the Machine and Central Audit +Bureau--which is nothing but a giant posting machine." + +"Have you seen it--Central, I mean? I see the concourse where we line up +every day to have our cards posted--but what's behind those twelve +hundred windows?" + + * * * * * + +She nodded briskly. "I saw it from one of the last planes. Central +covers miles and miles in both directions. They said then it was the +biggest machine on earth--and do you know, Mark"--she paused +dramatically--"I think the Machine is the government! Roll up your +chair, Mark." + +Mark did. "But doesn't there have to be somebody to take care of the +Machine?" he asked, holding her chair. + +"Not that I know of. They said it was perfect--that barring an +earthquake it would run for a thousand years without a human hand." + +The iron-juice cocktail was pretty good, the way Penelope had flavored +it with enzymes. But Mark inevitably got back to the thing that worried +him. "What will happen when that release slip of mine goes through for +thirty-five thousand points?" + +Penelope raised her white eyebrows. "I don't know, but undoubtedly +something drastic. I'll tell you what. I'll hold your slip for a while +and you go out and see if you can get some points on your credit side. +Stir up a little trouble. Get the points first and argue after."... + +Mark went out and tried to get some points next day, but he couldn't +seem to get his heart in his work. It was all so pointless. Why couldn't +the old lady give him back that slip, anyway? Mark got pretty much in +the dumps, and after he managed to get his foot stepped on and demanded +three hundred points, only to be countered by a claim of four hundred +for hurting the other man's instep, he began to feel very low indeed. + +At the end of the week he was walking slowly along the street watching +for Conley, because he was getting further in the red every day, when he +saw a foot stuck out in his way and heard a voice say, "Don't you +stumble over my lame foot," and he looked up and saw the old lady. Her +black eyes were soft. "You don't look happy, Mark." + +"No." He held out his card. + +"Hm." Her keen old eyes shot back to his. "Thirty-two hundred in the +red. That's more than before. You've lost two hundred points this week, +Mark." + +"I know," he said dully. + +"Here. Push me, Mark." She pulled the shawl around her and Mark started +pushing the wheel-chair. "You're a nice boy," she said when they reached +a quiet street. "You just can't adjust yourself to this modern world." + +"I want a job," Mark said stubbornly. "Something to do besides--well, +some kind of mark to aim at, I guess. This point business is just +putting in time. I'm not creating anything. Even if I could fasten +zippers on feather-beds, I'd be doing something worth while, because +it'd be used. But this way of living is like digging a hole and then +filling it in again. Why, you don't even dare to get into a fight. +Somebody would collect a thousand points every time you hit him. The +standard price of a black eye is three thousand. You have to be pretty +careful about things like that. And there's always Conley." + +"Well," Penelope said, "I'm going to make you a proposition. I'll hold +up your slip for sixty days, and in the meantime I'll teach you how to +get ahead of the game. I'll teach you the tricks of the trade, just as +old Point-a-Minute Charlie taught me. They say he averaged a point a +minute all his life." + +"Where is he now?" asked Mark, interested. + +The old lady pondered. "Come to think of it, I don't know. I remember +the last time I talked to him his credit balance was 98,000." She +frowned at the tremendous, low-lying dome that covered the horizon in +the distance and marked Central Audit Bureau. "I haven't seen him since +then." + +"Hm," said Mark. + +"Well, now," Penelope said briskly. "I'll make you a regular business +deal. I'll teach you, and for all you get, you give me twenty per cent. +See how many you can get. Try for ten thousand. That'll give you +something to shoot at." + +"Maybe I can beat the Machine," Mark said eagerly. + +Penelope swallowed. "They say you can't beat the Machine. But I guess it +won't hurt to try." + +Mark did well. At first he just walked down the street stopping people +as fast as he could get to them. "You didn't recognize me, sir," he +would say indignantly. "I met you at Central concourse two years ago. +Remember? You stood right in front of me in line for three hours, and we +talked about our new suits. Remember? My feelings are injured because +you ignored me just now. Fifty points. Will you sign my slip, please?" + +His credit reached the black the first week. He was netting five hundred +points a day, and it was fun, but Penelope said, "We'll go for bigger +stakes. This is kindergarten stuff. Now here's the way you start...." + + * * * * * + +So the next morning Mark managed to get himself knocked down four times, +and each time he came up with a skinned knee and collected from five +hundred to eight hundred and fifty points. He was learning, Penelope +assured him when he gleefully showed her his card at the end of the day. +Mark was elated. That day he had gathered fifty-one hundred points. + +"But this can get monotonous, too," Penelope said. "Anyway, you can't go +around forever with a sandpapered knee. You're learning fast, and you're +learning right. Old Point-a-Minute Charlie was the best there was, in +his day, and he always said you make more points guessing character than +you do falling down. Know your victim before you have an accident, and +then hit him for all he will pay and hit him quick--the way I did you." +She chuckled. "My commission for today is one thousand and twenty +points. Here, sign my slip, please." + +Mark signed. It was a cheap price to pay for the fact that life was no +longer pointless. He decided he'd try to gather a credit of one hundred +thousand points. + +He worked on bigger stuff. He didn't try just everybody. He picked his +signers with care. He slept until nine every morning and he and Penelope +played two-handed bridge at a tenth of a point a point until midnight. +He felt sorry for the poor suckers who had to get out at sunup and tread +the sidewalks until dark to get enough points to satisfy Central. They +were working like slaves, while he was living the life of Point-a-Minute +Charlie. + +It was a lovely existence. He forgot about Penelope's slip for +thirty-five thousand. He could almost pay it off anyway. Then came the +day when he pulled his grand coup. + +He spent a week planning it, with Penelope's shrewd advice. He +remembered what she had said about the man on the ladder in the +nineteen-forties. He sandpapered his back and painted an irregular spot +with merthiolate and iodine, and practiced twisting his back until it +looked out of shape. Then he went out and watched for an absent-minded, +nervous, excitable-looking man to try his next effort on. + +Penelope's biggest advice was, "Preparation is half the points," so it +was three days before Mark found the right person. After he found him it +was very simple. He signaled Penelope to follow, and then he walked +behind the man until they came to a high curb. + +Mark moved out to the left. The man started to step up on the curb. Mark +darted across in front of the man just as the man raised his foot. Mark +managed to stumble exactly in front of the man. His arms went out and +one hand caught the little man's leg. The little man fell squarely on +top of him, assisted by a slight push from Penelope. + +Mark groaned heart-breakingly. In a moment there was a crowd. The little +man was getting up, bewildered, and automatically trying to dust off his +type K suit. Mark lay half on the curb, half off, squirming like a +broken-back snake. "My back," he moaned piteously. "Oh, my back." + +The little man seemed paralyzed at the enormity of the thing he had +done. He stared at Mark and Mark squirmed harder and moaned louder. Then +Penelope hobbled up and pulled Mark's shirttail out of his trousers. The +iodine spot on his back looked yellow and purple, and there were gasps +from the crowd. + +"He did it!" Mark said, glaring accusingly at the little man. "He +tripped me. He tripped me and broke my back!" + +Penelope was putting on a good act too, crying and wringing her hands +and moaning. "My poor boy!" she said, over and over. A woman in the +crowd came up and made a very expressive raspberry in the little man's +face. The little man was not only bewildered; he was frightened. Mark +adjudged the time had come. + +"Points for my broken back!" he cried. Penelope held out a slip to the +little man. He signed it dazedly, then he slipped out of the crowd, +while three men picked up Mark and laid him tenderly in Penelope's +reclining wheel-chair. + +Mark could hardly contain himself. As soon as they were safely out of +sight he said excitedly, "Let me see the slip." + +Penelope looked around. She kept pushing him but she handed over the +slip. + +"Fifty thousand points!" Mark read under his breath. "Isn't that +wonderful!" He couldn't remember ever having felt so elated in his life. + +Penelope was shaking her head wonderingly. "That was a good act," she +said. "I'd never have had the nerve to try that myself." + +"Oh, that's nothing." Mark was enthusiastic. "As soon as I get fitted up +with a magnelite brace so it'll look good, I'm going to knock a piece +out of that curbing, and then if I can find out who's the registered +owner of it I'll hit him for twenty-five thousand." + + * * * * * + +Mark got the twenty-five thousand. The owner of the sidewalk was finally +convinced that Mark's broken back was worth a lot. From then on there +was no holding Mark. Pretending to act for the little man who had +originally knocked him down, he located the woman who had made a +raspberry in the little man's face and collected another two thousand; +the woman didn't recognize Mark, because Mark's features were changed a +little. + +Then Mark spotted two others who had made threatening noises and +collected five hundred from each, and from another who expressed doubt +that he was really hurt, Mark got a thousand points. There was nothing +to it, really. Most people had regular beats, and all Mark had to do was +sit at one side in Penelope's wheel-chair and wait for them to come by. +He would have collected more if he could have remembered more faces. He +saw Conley go by once a day but now he wasn't afraid. He thought Conley +looked at him disappointedly. + +A couple of weeks later he got his card back from the Machine at Central +and looked at it with great satisfaction. He had a hundred and thirteen +thousand points to his credit. He met Penelope and they went to her +apartment for dinner. Jubilantly Mark got all the fancy food--even some +synthetic meat--that he could get on his card, and they prepared for a +feast. + +"The only thing is," Penelope said as she punched the dishes on the +table, "I'm scared. I have a feeling you shouldn't have gone over a +hundred thousand." + +"Is that why you never cashed my slip for thirty-five thousand?" + +She nodded. "That's mostly the reason. My balance is over eighty +thousand and I was afraid." + +"Afraid of what?" + +"I don't know. Just afraid." + +"Well," said Mark, "I'm not. I don't see what Central can do to a person +for getting points. There's no rule against it." + +"It's dangerous," Penelope insisted. + +"Nevertheless, I have made a decision. A hundred thousand points--that's +nothing." His head was high. "I'm going after a million points!" + +Penelope gasped. "Mark, you mustn't do anything like that. You have no +use for a million points." + +"No," Mark said complacently, "but it's a lot of fun getting them. And +it gives me something worth while to do. We'll sit up till three o'clock +every morning and play bridge, and I'll stay in bed till noon, and dream +up new stunts. I'll pull one a week. Life is going to be worth living." + +The announcing light showed at the door. Penelope pressed the admittance +button. A tall, thin man came in a moment later. "Mark Renner?" he +asked. + +Mark jumped. "Conley!" Mark's stomach had a funny feeling in it. + +"They told me I would find you here," Conley said. + +Penelope had recovered enough to gasp. "What do you want?" + +"I'm from Central Audit Bureau." + +"That's just lovely," Penelope said, "but it doesn't mean anything to us +but a place where we get our cards balanced." + +"It should mean something to you," Conley said hollowly. "Central is the +government." + +Penelope stared at him. "Sit down, please. I thought Central was just a +machine." + +"It is something more than a machine. There is a small corps of persons +who live inside the machine to service it and occasionally adjust it, +and those persons really are the government--that is, all the government +we have." He sat down stiffly, his back straight. "Now then, Mr. Renner, +your card today showed a credit balance of a hundred and thirteen +thousand points. Is that correct?" + +Mark swallowed. "Yes." He looked at Penelope. She was pale. With +difficulty Mark asked, "Is it your job to check up on people, to see if +they are entitled to their points?" + +"Oh, my, no. Central doesn't care about that. In fact, Central doesn't +care how much anybody's debit is. We figure as long as a man is in debt +he'll try to pay it off. They always do, at least. No, we never bother +with debits, and I don't suppose we ever would." + +Mark breathed a sigh of relief. + +"But a credit of over a hundred thousand is something else," said +Conley. "The machines won't handle six figures without trouble, you see, +so there has to be a penalty." He looked very sad. "Now, then, I shall +have to--" + +"Wait!" cried Penelope. "His credit is a hundred and thirteen +thousand--but I have his slip for thirty-five thousand. If I turn it in, +that would fix it up for him, wouldn't it." + +Mark felt a warm wave of gratitude toward Penelope. She was a million +per cent; no question about it. + +"Well--yes, I suppose so. We don't like these last-minute adjustments, +but I suppose--" + + * * * * * + +She came waving the slip and thrust it into Conley's face. + +"There!" she said triumphantly. "Put that on my account." + +Conley looked a little sad. "This is your slip?" he asked Mark. + +Mark nodded gratefully. + +"Let me have your credit card, Miss Penelope. Now, then, I'll transfer +these points--hm." Conley's eyebrows raised. "Do you know what your +balance is now, Miss Penelope?" + +Penelope's mouth shot open and she popped her hand across it. + +"You have now a hundred and twenty-two thousand," Conley said. He got up +from his chair. "Well, I'm sorry, folks. That's the way it is." + +Mark gulped. "What way?" + +"Miss Penelope will have to come with me." + +Mark was on his feet. "If she goes, I go," he said dramatically. + +Conley looked at him. "If you feel that way about it, there won't be any +trouble at all. You did go over, so I can take you in too." + +"In where?" Penelope demanded. + +"A certain number of persons is required to keep Central going, as I +said--actually to be the government. But most of the population today is +so apathetic they wouldn't be of any use at all, so years ago some of us +who were in Central got an idea. We discovered that whenever any citizen +rebels against the monotony of life today, he or she eventually winds up +trying to gather a lot of points, because that is the only outlet for +energy and ambition. That is the kind of person we need, so when anybody +gets over a hundred thousand, the machine warns us. We go after them." +Conley picked up his type N hat. "Well, see you in the morning. Punch in +your cards at window 1000. We'll do the rest. And by the way--" He was +at the door. "We start work at eight o'clock." + +Mark brightened. "Did you say _work_?" + +"Oh, it's only four hours a day, five days a week. The rest of the time +is your own, only of course you can't come Outside. It would upset +things if the general public learned about us. Yes, it's a regular job; +not hard work, but steady work. Gives you something to aim for; there +are promotions, you know, and extra bonuses for those who show promise." + +"Work!" Mark said. "Steady work? You mean there'll be something to do +all the time?" + +"Five days a week," said Conley. + +Mark said, "This is so sudden. Why don't you sit down a minute while we +let it soak in? We have plenty of enzymes and stuff for a guest, don't +we, Miss Penelope? Why not stay for supper, Conley?" + +"No, thanks," said Conley. "We have beefsteak and hot biscuits for +supper in Central." + +Penelope shrieked with joy. "Beef!" + +Mark was puzzled. "What's that?" + +"It's an old-fashioned food," said Conley. "Rather tasty too." + +"Please sit down," Penelope begged, "and tell us more." + +Conley looked at his watch. "Believe I will. My feet get a little tired +all day from pounding the pavement. But there isn't much more to tell. +You'll find out everything tomorrow. And I'm sure you'll like it. We try +to give each person work to challenge him." + +"What if a person wouldn't want to go to Central?" + +"Very few ever object. Once in a while they are afraid and run away, but +we just register their number with all the machines, and whenever that +number is presented for food or clothes, the machines reject the card." +He paused. "A very neat arrangement. Of course, inside of Central the +point system as you know it now will be of no value whatever. We use +money in Central." + +Penelope had a can of synthetic meat in her hands. "Beef!" she said +suddenly, and hurled the can into the disintichute. "I'm going to starve +all night so I can enjoy eating tomorrow." + +"So nobody ever gets away?" asked Mark. + +"Very seldom, though there's one fellow playing a game with Central. He +must have gotten wind of us, and he keeps careful check on his points. +About once every three months he starts going strong. He'll be putting +in eight or ten thousand points a day. Then his balance will shoot up +over a hundred thousand and I'll go after him, but he's always just +signed away a lot of points. Would you believe it, the last time he had +given away fifty thousand points to a fellow who claimed a broken back. +He said he knew it was a phony, but he had me there and he laughed at +me, for he had signed away the points. The slip showed up next day." + +Mark looked at Penelope and grinned. "We should have known that nobody +in his right mind would give away fifty thousand points." + +Conley raised his hand in a salute. "See you tomorrow at Central. If +they don't keep you busy, look me up." + +Mark watched him leave. Then he looked beamingly at Penelope. "Work! +Every day! Eight o'clock! We'll have to get up before breakfast! Isn't +it wonderful?" + +But Penelope's bird-like eyes were bright. "He said there would be +promotions and bonuses for those who show promise," she recalled. "I +wish we had known that. We could have made a cleanup and gone into +Central with a record that would make their eyes pop out. Anyhow"--she +dug her pad of release blanks out of her pocket and began to figure on +the back. "Let's see, fifty thousand from the little man who's playing a +game with Central, twenty-five from the owner of the sidewalk, two +thousand for the raspberry, five hundred each from two who made noises +of disrespect, and a thousand from the man who doubted that your back +was really broken. You could have collected two thousand from that last +one," she said absently, "if you hadn't got cold feet. Anyway, that's +seventy-nine thousand points. Now, then, twenty per cent of that is +fifteen thousand, eight hundred points." + +She wrote rapidly and held out the pad to Mark. "Sign my slip, please." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's You Too Can Be A Millionaire, by Noel Miller Loomis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU TOO CAN BE A MILLIONAIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 32907.txt or 32907.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/9/0/32907/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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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