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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..56310ab --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65669 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65669) diff --git a/old/65669-0.txt b/old/65669-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 13b1f24..0000000 --- a/old/65669-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2350 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Compete or Die!, by Mark Reinsberg - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Compete or Die! - -Author: Mark Reinsberg - -Release Date: June 22, 2021 [eBook #65669] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMPETE OR DIE! *** - - - - - Bart Sponsor was a Top Competitor and he - pitied those who were not. But one small error - made him seek retirement. Yet, he could only-- - - COMPETE OR DIE! - - By Mark Rainsberg - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - February 1957 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -I slammed the aircar door and fumbled in my pocket for the key. I cast -a quick backward glance at the policeman a hundred feet away. - -He wheeled about at the sound. - -My trembling fingers tried to fit the key into the ignition. - -"Halt!" the policeman yelled unlimbering his gun and breaking into a -run. - -My fingers failed to coordinate. I heard a shot and nervously -dropped the key. I bent over frantically to scoop it up. - -There was another shot. Pieces of glass trickled down my neck. I -straightened up and saw a hole in the windshield, level with my eyes. - -"Hands up!" The cop had slowed down to take careful aim. He was so -close now he could hardly miss. - -"Don't shoot!" I shouted. "I surrender!" - -I inserted the key in the ignition with desperate precision, gunning -the engines so hard that the ship spun halfway around. The policeman -leaped out of the way as my Cad Super roared past him and lurched into -the air. - -I heard a tattoo of shots from the ground and then we were out of range. - -I swore as the acceleration crushed me deep into the seat. My forehead -was pounding. - -"Bart Sponsor, fugitive," I thought bitterly. "And only a half-hour -ago I was a pillar of society. Worst thing I had to worry about was a -speeding ticket...." - - * * * * * - -... I had been griping to my wife as usual about the rush-hour morning -traffic above Chicago. - -"Look at this. Just look at this," I said disgustedly. - -Below us, the lanes were choked with ponderous, slow-moving commuter -copters. Around us, flivver-jets clogged the expressway like millions -of migrating birds. We couldn't make more than three hundred miles an -hour. - -"The stupid shlubs," I muttered resentfully. "They ought to ride the -pneumatic tubes to work." - -"The airlanes should be reserved for Top Competitors only," said Celia -teasingly. "Like you, dear." - -I ignored her sarcasm and scanned the empty lane overhead. All that -blue sky set aside for outgoing traffic, and nothing in sight. A -shameful waste. - -I gunned our Cad Super, joyfully, defiantly, and scooted up over the -assigned traffic stream at a thousand per. Celia gave me an alarmed -look. - -"Bart! You'll get a ticket." - -I grinned and kicked our speed up an additional two hundred. - -Illegal, of course, but I made terrific time crossing the Iowa-Illinois -border where Chicagoland begins. I didn't squeeze back into the -expressway until mighty Municipal Tower came into view through the -dense industrial haze above Lake Michigan. There atop the building -stood a gigantic sign revolving on a pivot with the wind. It bore the -seal of Chicago and the stunning legend: I WILL COMPETE. Most inspiring -motto in the world, I think. - -Celia touched my hand. "We'll have to stop at the bank first." - -"No time," I said. "We're due at the school at nine-thirty." - -"It won't hurt to be a few minutes late. This is important, Bart." - -We have a good marriage, and I don't quarrel with Celia's wishes. But -this meant another delay, and I could already see half the morning -shot, what with the meeting in the principal's office, and afterwards -perhaps taking Freddie out for a soda or something to make him feel -secure and loved. What a lot of trouble that boy was getting into -lately. - -I wheeled out of traffic and feathered down to the roof of the 1st -National. A conveyer belt carried our ship toward the teller's window. - -Celia opened her purse and withdrew a bank form. "Here, I think you'll -have to sign this, darling." - -I voiced my irritation. "Withdraw it in your own name. It's a joint -account. Personally, I don't understand how you can need more money -when I just gave you four hundred yesterday." - -"This is a very large amount," said Celia softly. "Bank requires it." - -"How much?" I asked suspiciously. - -"Ten thousand." She was staring at me intently with her almond-shaded -eyes. Her full red lips were parted in the faintest trace of a smile, -as her neat brown-pencilled eyebrows arched slightly in amused defiance. - -She was daring me to ask the obvious question. Hell, I thought, I can -afford it. I signed the form and passed it back to her. - -We were at the teller window. She scribbled on the sheet and handed it -to the clerk. - -"Now," I said, feeling that I'd fulfilled the code of gallantry, "may I -ask what you need it for?" - -"Certainly, dear. I'm giving it to the Mendelsohns as a going-away -present. Tonight at their farewell party." - -"What! Ten thousand credits? Are you insane! The Mendelsohns mean -nothing to me." I was so upset that I kicked the degravity pedal and we -started to rise from the roof. I brought us down with a thud. - -"They mean a lot to me," said Celia calmly. "They used to mean a lot to -you too." - -"But ten thousand!" I protested. "What do you think I am, a millionaire -philanthropist?" - -"It is a lot of money," Celia agreed placatingly. "But the Mendelsohns -are leaving tomorrow for Primus Gladus. We'll never see them again." - -"So what!" I said heatedly. "Thousands of people go to the stars as -colonists. Thousands of failures like the Mendelsohns think their luck -will change on another planet. Does this mean that--" - -"Bart, consider," said Celia. "If they had remained here on Earth -as our friends, there would have been many occasions in a lifetime -when I would have sent them remembrances. The birth of children. -Anniversaries. Graduations. Confirmations, bar mitzvahs, wedding -presents. Funeral wreaths. All I've done now is roll up all those gifts -of a lifetime into one farewell present, of a size that will help them -a little on their new world." - -"I've cut off a lot of heads for that money. Grain brokerage is a -brutal profession, what with thirty billion mouths clamoring for food, -and the government keeping speculation in a straight-jacket, and that -insurrection on Venus, the granary of the solar system, making wheat -futures a nightmare. This kind of generosity leaves me cold. I had more -to say on the subject, but the bank teller spoke up to Celia. - -"Your identification, please?" - -Celia showed him her wrist plate. - -"Ah, Mrs. Sponsor, I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but this is such a -large amount that we'll need your husband's personal verification. Bank -rules, you know." - -"This is my husband." - -My irritation mounted. "I'm Sponsor," I said to the teller, flourishing -my wrist band. "What's the difficulty?" - -"Ah, Mr. Sponsor, would you like to step in a moment and speak to our -chief cashier?" - -"I haven't time," I blurted sharply. "Give my wife the money!" We were -already ten minutes late to our school appointment. - -The teller looked abashed and hesitant. - -"Look here," I demanded, "if we don't get better service around here -I'll take my account elsewhere!" - -That did it. He fussed around and finally handed Celia the bundle which -she had some trouble fitting into her purse. "Small denominations," -she explained. I gunned our car peevishly, I must admit, and the -acceleration shoved her back into the seat rest. We were ten minutes -late already. I should have called my office. - -We soared into air above old Chicago, the part rebuilt after World War -III. The lake claimed a good share of the blast area, of course, but -that's what makes our city so unusually beautiful now. Four hundred -tiny islands dot the lakefront, some connected by causeways, others -reachable only by aircar or boat. - -"Why are you so cross?" said Celia, taking the offensive the way women -do when they've pulled some outrageous stunt. - -"Look, you can't have it both ways. You can give them the money, but -you can't get me to say I like the idea." - -"Solly Mendelsohn was once your closest friend." - -"Solly is a poor competitor, Celia. Let's face up to it. He has -brains. He once showed signs of being a brilliant soil chemist, but he -washed out of school. And then he became a fertilizer salesman, and -he couldn't make a go of that. And after that he took up hydroponic -farming, but he wasn't a success at that either. No wonder he wants to -try another planet!" - -"Solly has had a lot of personal misfortunes." - -"That's an excuse all the shlubs use. No. The fact is, he just can't -compete. And unless you compete in this world, you're dead." - -Below on its own crescent-shaped island lay Chicago Classical School. I -put our ship into a fast elevator dive. "My sympathies," I added, "go -to Dolores. She's a bright, attractive kid. Keen competitor. She didn't -deserve a shlub for a husband." I paused. "And about that party they're -giving tonight. I'm not going." - - * * * * * - -Chicago Classical was frankly a boarding school for privileged kids. -It taught the first six years, and no better I'm sure than the public -schools of Chicago. But there was social distinction. The contacts -would be good for Freddie later on. Freddie boarded there five days -a week and came home to us on weekends, uncommunicative about his -experiences, but happy to go romping with me in the woods and ravine -adjoining our estate near Mason City. Unfortunately, that wasn't too -often. Competitive pressure kept me in Chicago sometimes three or four -weeks at a stretch. - -When they gave the first graders a word-picture test, Celia once told -me, Freddie had represented the word _father_ by the symbols of a bald -head, pipe and briefcase. After that, whenever I couldn't get home on -Saturday or Sunday, I made an effort to have lunch with the boy in -Chicago at least once during the week. But of course you can't get to -know your son very well that way. - -"Just what is this trouble Freddie's involved in?" I asked as we -descended. "Why don't you keep me better informed on the boy?" - -"I try to, but when have you had time to listen? I usually see you at -our cocktail parties for clients, or else at three in the morning when -you drop into bed too exhausted to get into pajamas." - -"Well, this matter with the principal. Are you sure it's so serious?" - -"They never ask for both parents unless it is," Celia assured me, -glancing soberly at the school buildings as we came to earth. - -We parked, I noticed, alongside a dark blue official car, with the -municipal seal, and the initials S.T.A.R.S. "Never heard of that one," -I told Celia as we walked to the main dormitory and administration -building. - -The place was a gloomy gray, vine-covered neo-gothic structure -which ignored almost a thousand years of architectural progress. An -old-fashioned electric eye opened the door. Inside, the building -smelled like stale bread, musty linen and floor varnish, combined with -a dash of urine. The interior lighting was unnaturally bright, it -seemed to me, like in a surgical arena. The only harmonious note was -struck by the mural in the vestibule. One entire wall was covered by -an allegorical painting of sports, professions, and industry, with the -phrase COMPETE OR PERISH emblazoned boldly across the top. - -Celia nudged me. "A little raw for school kids, don't you think?" - -This was an old, unhealed grievance between us. "Those are the -twenty-fourth century facts of life," I replied evenly. - -We reported to the receptionist robot in an alcove controlling the -inner set of doors. - -"You are fifteen minutes late," said the machine. "I will announce you. -Be seated please." - -We remained standing. I spied a public wall phone and jerked into -awareness. "Excuse me, honey. I have to call the office!" - -I hastily dialed our number and got the busy signal. Wow! All nine -lines were tied up, including our human and our robot receptionists. I -immediately dialed our unlisted private number, and somebody answered -with a curse, and I knew it was my partner Charlie Spacker. - -"Compete, man! Compete!" he shouted. "Where the hell are you?" - -"Chicago Classical School. Personal problem. I told you about it." - -"Well, get over here quick! That Venus situation is about to blow up, -and we're tied up to the tune of three hundred million in wheat and -soybeans!" - -"I'll be over within a half hour. Meanwhile, have Claire book passage -on the next Venus rocket. One of us has got to go there." - -"Willco," said Claire. She always monitored our calls. - -"All right," stormed Charlie, "that may help us a month from now. But -what about now? Do I buy or sell? These customers are drowning me!" - -Charlie was a great bluff man who inspired the clients' confidence, but -he quailed at policy decisions. I thought fast. I'd go there and make a -deal with the insurrectionists. Help finance the rebellion in exchange -for exclusive first option. If they won, good. If they lost, status quo -anyway. - -Celia was gesturing urgently as the inner door opened. - -"Buy!" I said and I slammed down the receiver. - - * * * * * - -It was hard to adjust to the dim lighting in the principal's office. -His room was loaded with antique fiberglass furniture of the -twenty-first century. He sat behind, or rather within, a donut-shaped -desk, a moon-faced man with short, monk-like haircut, and bulbous nose. - -"You are the parents of Edmund Sponsor?" We nodded. He pressed a -button. "Very well. We will send for the boy." - -He swivelled around to face a wall of slanting glass which overlooked -the children's playground. We could see two ranks of boys in a -tug-of-war, and some little girls playing red-rover. - -"Scott," he said into a tiny microphone on his desk top. A playground -instructor looked up. - -"Yes, sir?" - -"Please send Edmund Sponsor to my office." - -"He's not here, sir. I believe he's in the dormitory." - -"How does that happen?" demanded the principal. "This is game time." - -"He declined to join in the competition, sir." - -"I see. Thank you." - -I felt a hot flush of embarrassment. My son non-competitive? That -seemed impossible. He must be ill. It was an insulting accusation. - -The principal flicked on the wall visa-screen. It showed a lean, rather -formally-attired man seated on a lounge in the anteroom, next to a -uniformed policeman. - -"Masefield? I believe it would expedite matters if you would find -Edmund Sponsor in the dormitory and bring him here. Would you do that, -please?" - -Masefield nodded and the screen darkened. The principal turned to us. - -"This incident on the playground which you just witnessed may perhaps -spare us all an overly long explanation. Mr. Sponsor, I have been in -touch with your wife from time to time, and I assume she has kept you -informed on your boy's progress. Or should we say, lack of progress?" - -I felt a sense of numb shock. Celia had told me nothing. I managed to -control my outward signs of surprise. "Yes, she has," I said calmly, -crossing my legs. "But of course we have a fiercely competitive line, -and I haven't been able to follow the situation as well as one might -wish. - -"Would you tell me, in brief, what it all amounts to, and what you -suggest as a remedy? Both Mrs. Sponsor and I are willing and eager to -cooperate." - -"I hope," said the principal, "that you will remember what you have -just said when I propose the remedy. As to the problem itself, I must -put it bluntly--your son Edmund refuses to compete." - -If any other man had said this to me I would have smashed his face in. -Celia looked at me warningly. Again I masked my feelings. - -"This is a terrible thing to hear," I said sweetly. "But surely -it can't be as stark and simple as that. Freddie must be ill or -emotionally disturbed. Have your doctors given him a checkup? Have your -psychoanalysts examined him?" - -"Long ago and continually, Mr. Sponsor. That was your wife's original -suggestion. Your boy was completely uncooperative with the analysts. -Resistant. Negatively competitive, if you know what I mean. In fact, -I will repeat what one of our doctors said. If your boy could reverse -his attitude, and put all the energy he uses to fight the system into -battling his future economic opponents, he'd become a Top Competitor. -However, a year has gone by, and we have not been able to bring about -the slightest change. Now, in fact, the situation has gotten out of -hand." - -"But," I said, trying to sound detached and clinical, "how does this -non-competitiveness, as you say, manifest itself in our son?" The -prefix _non_ had a bitter taste in my mouth. - -"In every way," said the principal. "He won't play competitive games -with the other children. Intellectually, he won't exert himself against -his classmates. Financially, he refuses to earn bonus points selling -magazine subscriptions in his leisure time. This, as you know, goes -against the very principles on which our democracy is based. It's -subversive in its influence on the other children. If he were not so -young, if he did not come from a well-known competitive family, one -would almost be tempted to think Edmund an Australian spy!" - -"Come now!" said Celia indignantly. "Expel Freddie from your school if -you wish, but don't slander him." - -The door buzzed softly, then slid open. Freddie entered, followed -closely by Masefield. - -Freddie had been crying. His eyes opened wide and an expression of joy -hit his face as he saw us. - -"Mother!" he exclaimed, rushing to Celia's arms. She hugged him -fervently. I patted him manfully on the shoulder, but I felt shy and a -little inept. "Dad!" he added, running the back of one hand across his -tear-stained cheeks. - -"How are you, son?" I said inadequately. - -Freddie looked up at me imploringly. "Take me away from here, dad. -_Please_ take me away from here!" He buried his head on Celia's breast -and started to sob. - -"We will, darling," said Celia. We exchanged swift glances. - -"We certainly will, son, if you're unhappy here," I said rather -mechanically. I was, to tell the truth, rather shocked by the emotional -display. Freddie had always been such a self-contained little boy, so -beyond his years in control and understanding, so undemonstrative. - -"I think," said the principal portentously, "that matters would be best -served if Edmund waited outside." - -"I agree." There was no reason for Freddie to hear whatever remained to -be said. - -The kid made quite a fuss about leaving us, even for a few minutes, -but in the end Masefield escorted him out with friendly firmness. - -"We are all in accord then, that your son is to leave Chicago Classical -School?" - -"I think so," said Celia, with unconcealed hostility. - -"What steps do we take now?" I asked more civilly. "Do we enroll him -in the second grade of public school? I mean, is his work here fully -transferable?" - - * * * * * - -The principal seemed to reach very carefully for his next words. -He seemed in fact faintly apprehensive. "Mr. Sponsor, under normal -circumstances a child's credits from Chicago Classical are acceptable -at more than par in the public school system. But this is a case in -which the authorities are obliged to exercise jurisdiction." - -"Just what do you mean by that?" Celia said angrily. - -"Darling," I said patting her hand, "control yourself. Let's try to -hear this thing objectively." - -"Yes, Mrs. Sponsor, as your husband has said, this is a matter -which requires considerable detachment. We two have had a number of -conversations in the past year, and I must say candidly that you did -not seem to realize the delicacy and seriousness of Edmund's problem. -By authorities I mean, of course, the juvenile delinquency courts." - -"Now I'm the one who doesn't understand," I said very mildly. - -"You are aware, Mr. Sponsor, that aggressive non-competitiveness is -carried on the statute books as a misdemeanor." - -Scorn and ridicule were in Celia's voice. "But Freddie is a -seven-year-old!" - -"Quite. But our concern as educators is with the future adult. And -unless the child's habits of thought are corrected in the early, -formative years, all of his aberrations are magnified by maturity. -Would you want your son to grow up a criminal, a seditionist?" - -"You need not worry about that," I answered firmly. "I'll take Freddie -in hand. He'll learn the value of competition if I have to beat it into -him!" - -"I'm afraid it's a little too late for that," said the educator. -"School is a powerful influence, but home is the decisive influence in -the molding of a child's character and outlook. The plain and simple -fact is that your home--Edmund's home--has been an _anti_-competitive -influence! No school can counterbalance it." - -"That's absurd! Do you realize what line of business I'm engaged in?" - -"I'm fully aware of that. However, how much time do you actually spend -with your son, teaching him the precepts of our democracy?" - -"What are you driving at?" - -He had made up his mind to say it. He leaned forward across his -donut-shaped desk and said very deliberately: "When the home fails in -its duty, the state must step in and do the job. We have recommended -that Edmund be placed in our city's Special Training and Re-Education -School, and that he be isolated from all parental influence for a -period of five years. Or until such time as his attitude shall have -displayed a fundamental change." - -Celia was on her feet. "What! You mean we can't see him for five years!" - -I was leaning over his desk, almost yelling. "You are not going to take -our boy away from us. We'll fight it in the courts." - -The principal likewise stood up. He stared at us, disdainful in his -power. "The court has already decided that point. I thought you were -sensible, cooperative people who were willing to fight and sacrifice -for the preservation of Competition. I thought I was doing you a -special favor in giving you a last moment or two with your son. That, -you must understand, went against all rules. I'm sorry now that I -extended you the favor." - -Celia was tearfully, bitterly sarcastic. "You extended us the favor--" - -I was trembling with rage. "We are taking Freddie with us." - -"You can't." - -"You just try to stop me." - -The principal smiled, again disdainfully. "He has already left with the -STARS officer. There is nothing you can do. Except leave my office." - -I was stunned. That blue car we parked next to. I was paralyzed. I -wanted to smash the principal's face--even if it meant going to jail. - -His desk buzzer sounded. He flicked a switch. - -"Yes?" - -It was the intercom to the receptionist. - -"Mr. Masefield." - -"Tell him to wait a moment." - -Masefield's voice broke in. "It can't wait. That kid has gotten away -from us! He's locked himself in an aircar. Who owns that Cad Super?" - -I staggered the principal with a straight hard punch in the mouth. I -threw another to his jaw and another in his solar plexus. I leaped onto -his desk and seized him by the throat and battered his head against the -desk top. Then I drove my fist into his face again and again until he -lost consciousness. - -Celia had had the presence of mind to turn off the microphone. I -flicked it on. - -"Masefield?" I was trusting the phone to depersonalize my voice. - -"Yes." - -"The owner will be right out to open it. Is there anyone by the car -now?" - -"Officer Fegerty." - -"Good. Then the boy can't get away. Come to my office for a minute." - -I kicked at the control panel and ripped out all the wires in sight, -then socked the principal three or four more times for good measure. -We exited as casually as we could, nodding pleasantly as we passed -Masefield in the hall. Then we broke into a frantic run, through the -inner and outer doors, pausing only long enough for Celia to smash the -electric eye mechanism with her purse as the outer door swung shut. -Nicely competitive of her. - -We raced out to the parking lot. The cop was standing beside our car, -and I could see Freddie cowering in the back seat, behind closed -windows and locked doors. - -"Officer Fegerty!" I said breathlessly. "Mr. Masefield says for you to -come to the principal's office immediately! Something's happened." - -He hesitated. "What about the kid?" - -"We'll watch him! You'd better hurry!" - -He headed for the administration building at a lumbering trot. - -We waved wildly to Freddie. He pounced, with uncontrollable joy, on -the door release. Celia plunged into the car, and then I. Out of the -corner of my eye I could see that the policeman had stopped. He was -viewing us with uncertainty. Then he yelled and started to run toward -us, unlimbering his gun from its holster. - -[illus] - -My trembling fingers fitted the key into the ignition. I heard a shot -and a thudding sound. Then another, and a hole appeared in my side and -front windows. I gunned our car like fury and we rocketed into the air -so fast that Celia, holding Freddie tightly in her arms, moaned at the -terrible acceleration. - -We were far above Chicago's islands. Nothing, not even a police car, -could catch our Cad Super. - -I turned to my son. "You're a bright boy, Freddie. I'm proud of you." A -real competitor at heart. - -Then my eye caught the great municipal sign, with its motto I WILL -COMPETE. And I realized for the first time the seriousness of what we -had done. - - * * * * * - -"The alarm will be out any minute," I told Celia. "I must land." - -I nosed our ship down to the lowest air line, merging with slow local -traffic above the city. For once I was not pleased to be driving such -a conspicuous car. Where to land? Certainly not my usual parking lot. -They'd check there as a matter of routine. - -Celia read my thoughts. "Where would they least expect us?" - -"Navy Pier traffic fines bureau!" I exclaimed. "They have a free -parking lot there." - -"That's good, for the car," said Celia, "but risky for us." She -thought. "The Art Institute. They have a private lot and we're members." - -"Ridiculous!" I started to say, then checked myself. "That's good. -That's cultural. The cops would never think we'd go looking at -pictures." - -There would be people there, a crowd in which we could lose ourselves. -A big building where we could remain all day, if necessary, without -attracting suspicion. A place where I could think. I desperately needed -to think. - -"I don't want to go to the Art Institute," Freddie whined. "I want to -go home." - -Celia tried to comfort him. "Mother wants to go home too, dear one, -but we can't go home just now." - -We sure can't, I thought grimly. I maneuvered past the petal-shaped -peak of Tribune Tower with its banner--100% COMPETITION MEANS 100% -AMERICAN, past the upper stories of the Prudential Building ("WE'RE -COMPETING--ARE YOU?"), past the squat old Bible Federation building -(COMPETER, REMEMBER ST. PETER!), and at last settled with a sigh behind -the museum. - -"I want to go home," Freddie whimpered, his eyes starting to tear -again. He was a thin, rather bony little boy, with light brownish eyes -like Celia's, and a forceful jaw that was quivering now at the point of -a sob. - -Celia caressed his curly brown hair. "We're going to spend the entire -day together, darling. We're going to look at some wonderful pictures." - -I was irritated, but I guess you can't expect too much understanding of -a kid. - -We entered the building from the rear, parking lot entrance. The -Art Institute was one of those wild, non-geometric creations of the -Twenty-first century reconstruction period. It was a flat, one-storied -building. The outside was partially circular, with a pearly transparent -roof. Inside it formed a spiral, with galleries partitioned off like -the chambers of nautilus shell. At the eye of the spiral stood a small -sunken garden and tea room. - -I looked at my watch. Ten-fifteen. "We can stay here until five, if -need be," I told Celia. "Don't leave the building until I return." - -"Where are you going?" Celia was calm outwardly. Only her eyes -registered alarm. - -"To see my lawyer. Then to the office. Then to the bank. I have a hunch -that ten thousand won't be enough for our present needs." - -"Bart, I--" - -"Let's not discuss it now. First I want to find out how we stand -legally." - -I patted Freddie's cheek. "Bye, son. I'll try to get back in time for -lunch with you and mother." - -I strode off, pausing at the main entrance to call the law offices of -Devron, Beach and Feldman. Beach was my man and he was in. I hailed a -coptercab and we lumbered over to the gold-black, ellipsoid Richmond -Building opposite City Hall. - -Beach was a Top Competitor, a slim, trim, fit, fighting individual with -graying black hair, and a smiling suntanned face underscored by hard -lines of determination. He was humorless, busy and abrupt in all his -dealings, but he'd never yet lost a case for me. - -"I have to be in court in ten minutes, Bart. Can you give it to me -briefly?" - -"I don't know if I can. There are so many aspects. To begin with, I -assaulted a man. Knocked him unconscious." - -"Government official? Top Competitor?" - -"No, just a private school principal." - -"Injure him badly?" - -"I don't know. He was still out when I left." - -Beach's eyes flickered with surprise. - -"You're not a violent type. He must have provoked you?" - -"Called my son non-competitive." - -Beach dismissed the matter with a gesture. "You've nothing to worry -about." He paused, his shrewd eyes surveying. "Is that all?" - -"Unfortunately not." I was ashamed to tell the whole story, and -I've told Beach some pretty raw ones in the past without flinching. -"In effect, I've defied a court order concerning my son. Obstructed -justice, you might say." - -"Leave the legal definitions to me," said Beach tersely. "Tell me what -you did." - -"Well, the principal was turning my son Freddie over to some guy from -the Special Training and Re-Education School. Without any advance -notice. Just bang! Like that. Called Celia and me in this morning to -tell us. As though it were already an accomplished fact. Well, I knew -it was illegal on his part. Imagine that! Taking a kid away from his -parents for five years! So I snatched up Freddie and left him with -Celia in a safe place and came directly to you. Beach, I want to fight -this. I want you to take a law book and beat the city's brains in!" - -Beach stood up. He would not look me in the eye, but the hard lines on -his face showed up like steel cables. - -"I won't touch the case. You'll have to find someone else." - -A wave of shock and fear surged through my veins. "Beach, you're the -best man in the city! You've got to take it!" - -"I couldn't win. No one could. You're in trouble, Bart. You'd better -hand over your son to the school." He was thinking out loud. "Plead -emotional upset on your part. It's a terrible thing for a father, a Top -Competitor, to be told he has a non-competitive son. You momentarily -lost control of yourself. Bring him to the school voluntarily. Say -you thrashed him within an inch of his life. Say you've been too -busy competing to pay much attention to your son's upbringing. But -now you're turning him over to the school, and you want them to -indoctrinate him thoroughly in the principles of democracy. - -"You'd have a scandal, of course, but people would sympathize with you. -Applaud your resoluteness. - -"Yes, you would get off that way. I still couldn't handle the case, -naturally, but I can recommend someone." - -"Beach," I said firmly, "I won't give the boy up." - -He was silent for a moment. "Then you're ruined. You're a fugitive from -justice. Your only hope is in Australia." - -That was a slap in the face. "Australia!" I shouted. "That crummy -socialist state? That shlub society? No sir, I'm staying right here, in -the free competitive world!" - -Beach looked ostentatiously at his watch. "You'll have to excuse me. -I have a case in court. A murder case, where I can do my client some -good." - -He picked up his briefcase and went to the door, and stood there -courteously showing me out. "I don't imagine I'll be seeing you again, -Bart. Take a lawyer's parting advice. Don't go home. Don't go to your -office. Put your family on the next ship for Australia." He put his -hand on my shoulder, adding, not unkindly, "I also advise you to leave -this building quickly. You realize that I must report you to the -police." - - * * * * * - -I free-fell down the elevator shaft, stopping at the mezzanine rather -than the ground floor. There was a balcony and staircase overlooking -the main entrance. I could see a policeman loitering at the doorway. I -had no reason to believe Beach had immediately made his report. Even if -he had, was it likely the police could reach the scene sooner than it -took me to drop thirty-eight stories? Nevertheless, there the cop was. - -I went back to the elevator, rode the updraft to the roof landing. A -police ship was idling over the Richmond Building. Coincidence. I saw a -taxi drop his fare only twenty feet away, and I wanted desperately to -hail the cab, but I couldn't take the chance. I remained for a minute -by the doorway. The police ship also lingered. - -I asked a building employe where the freight elevator was. He pointed -the direction, and I stripped off my suit jacket and folded it -around my waist beneath my shirt. Then I rolled up my shirt sleeves -and stepped into the down-shaft. I hit bottom two floors below -street-level. There was a clerk in a receiving room. - -"Has some office furniture come in for 1108?" I asked in a shlub accent. - -"Nothin' yet," said the clerk. - -I thumbed at the doorway. "That the freight tube?" - -"Yup." - -"Maybe they're waiting for me outside?" - -It was a silly thing to say but it gave me the excuse of looking. I -ducked my head out and saw that the dock was empty. There was a rush of -sewer-tainted air, and the hum of the city's subterranean conveyer belt. - -"The idiots!" I exclaimed for the clerk's benefit. "There they are at -the next building." - -I slammed the door and hopped onto the belt which was moving at about -five miles an hour. I jumped off at the next dock we came to, rode the -freight shaft up, then got off at the sixth floor. - -Quickly I rolled down my sleeves, whipped out the jacket from under my -shirt, smoothed down my hair and was presentable again. I walked around -until I found the passenger shaft and descended to the ground level. - -I was more angry than frightened. I a fugitive! A Top Competitor forced -to flee through the city sewers! What a rotten, unjust turn of events. - -What next? I was outside now, on the pedestrian belt moving eastward -toward the lake. Obviously, whatever we did, wherever we went, money -would be necessary. The bank, then. I would draw out my entire account. -A second thought. No, not the entire amount; that might excite -suspicion, cause a spot check with the police. Half would be better--a -hundred and twenty-five thousand. - -I entered the 1st National and went to a counter to write out a check. -A cautioning light suddenly flared in my brain. What if the authorities -had called the bank--frozen my assets? - -There's only one safe way to find out, I thought. I wrote out a -small check to cash--fifty credits. Went to one of the many tellers, -handed it through the cage. I knew, of course, that my picture was -automatically taken as I did so. - -The teller glanced curiously at the check, stamped it, and without -hesitation handed me a fifty credit note. - -I was elated. The bank had not yet been notified. I returned to the -counter and wrote out a check in my own name to one hundred twenty-five -thousand credits. - -I presented it to another teller. - -"Your identification, please?" - -I flashed my wrist band. - -The teller studied the check minutely. "This is a considerable sum. -More than I have at my window. Could you wait for just a moment?" He -picked up his phone. - -A bank guard tapped me on the shoulder. - -"Could you come with me, please." - -My impulse was to run. A paralyzer pistol was sheathed in his wrist -holster. There was no use. - -I followed him to the original teller's window. - -"I'm sorry, sir," said the man, "but an estop has been put on this -account. You will have to return the fifty credits." - -"Certainly," I said, hastily whipping out the fifty. I wanted to dash -for the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other teller hang -up his phone and look about urgently. He had not yet seen me. - -"Here is the invalidated check," said the teller. "I suggest you hold -onto it." - -"Thank you," I said, restraining my hand from grabbing. "Guard," I -said, "there's a teller over there motioning for you." I pointed in -the opposite direction from the second teller. "I think it's number 16 -there." - -He went his way. I went my way, as fast as one can in a bank building -without starting a chase. I hurried through the doors, waving -frantically for a coptercab. One descended. - -"Where to?" - -Good question. "Fly me over the islands. I have to kill some time." - - * * * * * - -We ascended. I could just about read the cabbie's mind. "These damn -Competitors! So busy and so loaded they have to spend money to kill -time." We wafted towards the lakefront. My own thoughts were swirling -chaotically. I felt as though someone had turned off the degravity -device just as I was stepping into the elevator shaft. The rug--no, -the entire floor itself--had been yanked out from under me. I knew now -that I was being pursued systematically. It was not yet noon, not yet -two hours since the event. Already the subtle, confident, overpowering -resources of the state had been brought to bear, narrowing the avenues -of escape, cutting off the criminal's life-line. Yet what had made me -an outlaw? Love of offspring? - -"Do you want me to just keep circling?" said the cabbie. - -I made a quick decision. "Board of Trade Building. I'll show you which -entrance when we get there." - -My office was located there. Undoubtedly it would be under close -watch. Probably Charlie Spacker's was also. But I had to communicate -with Charlie. Had to get some money. Had to arrange to get out of the -country. - -In my mind's eye I could visualize two plainclothesmen seated in the -anteroom of the firm of Sponsor & Spacker, trying to appear like -clients. I could see another detective or two, armed with photograph -and paralyzer, keeping vigilance on the roof landing. A few more -watching the ground level entrance. - -It was hard for me to believe I was that important to the state, worth -a platoon of human blood-hounds. And yet, if the state was doing a -thorough job at all, one had to assume they were there, and at our -home in Mason City, Iowa, and at my club, and at all the space and air -terminals as well. But it did not seem likely to me that a detective -would actually be sitting in my private office, at my desk, waiting for -me to come in through the window. That was the chance I'd have to take. - -We approached the massive Board of Trade Building, which resembled the -glued-together pipes of an antique pipe-organ, and I pointed and said -to the cabbie, - -"See that balcony. Let me off there." - -The driver stared back at me, wide-eyed. "We aren't allowed to do -that, mister." - -"I realize that," I said, handing him a twenty credit note. "But I want -to play a joke on a friend." - -"All right, buddy," he said, maneuvering his copter closer to the -building. "Remember, if you land on the pavement below, I don't offer -any guarantees." - -He hovered stationary beside my balcony and I leaped across the air -space of two or three feet and slipped and clung, and finally scrambled -to safety. - -I could see into my darkened office. It didn't look as if anyone was -there. Then a new problem presented itself. How to open the unbreakable -strontium-alloy window? There was no way at all to do it from the -outside. - -Why hadn't I thought of that! - -I looked down sixty-eight stories, and looked up forty-one stories, and -realized I was trapped. - -Unless I could reach the balcony outside Charlie's office. Oh my God, I -thought--a human fly act! That was ten feet away, and I am six-foot-one -tall. Moreover, the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. And the -face of the building was perfectly smooth. Not a thing to use as a -hand-hold. - -There was another possibility. I took off one of my shoes and hurled -it at Charlie's window. It missed, but fortunately remained on the -balcony. I took off the other one. It struck his window with a dull -clonk. - -If Charlie was out of his office--. Well, I couldn't be any more in a -jam without shoes than with shoes. - -A face appeared at the window. Our secretary Claire. She peered out -for an instant, but the angle was too extreme for her to see me -waving crazily. As she disappeared I let out an anguished shout. She -reappeared, pressed the window lever, and stuck her head outside. - -"Mr. Sponsor!" she said in amazement. - -"Is Spacker there?" I had no time to dwell on the situation. - -"No, Mr. Sponsor, he's still in the pit." A frown crossed her forehead. -"But there are some gentlemen--waiting to see you." - -"Yes, I know about them. Now, Claire. Come into my office through the -adjoining door and open this window. And first please reach out and get -my shoes." - -She smiled, and I too had to see the humor. - -Claire was a pretty-faced brunette with ultra-fair complexion and a -tendency towards overweight which kept her eating prescriptions instead -of meals. She couldn't compete with our robot steno, but customers like -to deal with a human being. And she was loyal. - -She let me in and handed me my shoes. - -I sat down, put them on. "Those men outside are not to know I'm here." -This was the real test of her loyalty. - -Claire nodded tersely. She was not a dumb girl. - -"I'm in serious trouble, Claire. The less you know about it the better, -but it's all tied up with the crisis on Venus. Were you able to book -passage for me?" - -"Yes, you've a reservation on the midnight rocket." - -"Good! When's your lunch hour?" - -"I'm on it now, Mr. Sponsor." - -"Will you do me a tremendous favor, Claire? I know it's an imposition, -but it's quite urgent. Would you go down to the Venus Spaceship Line -and pick up that ticket for me? And while you're at it, get two more -tickets on the same ship, but separated from me. Do you understand? -Have them bill us as usual." - -"Under what name, Mr. Sponsor?" She was a canny girl. - -"Leave all three open under our company name." This wasn't much better -than 'Mr. & Mrs. Bart Sponsor & Son', but it left us some leeway to -juggle identities. Perhaps trade tickets with three shlubs at the last -minute. "I hope you don't mind this imposition." I added. - -"I'll be very glad to do this for you, Mr. Sponsor." She hesitated. "Do -you want me to bring the tickets back to the office? What should I do -with them if you've left in the meantime?" - -These were knowledgeable questions. How much did she already know? Was -Claire really loyal, or was she planning already to tip off the police? -Have them trail me, trap Celia and Freddie as well? That was one of -those unavoidable risks. - -"Mmm. Good question, Claire. Leave them in an envelope at the mail desk -of the Conrad-Palmer Hotel ... under my name." - -Hell, I thought. If she's going to betray me, the name won't make any -difference. Otherwise, I'll need my own name for identification, in -order to pick up the envelope. - - * * * * * - -They had not gotten around to examining my personal files. The drawers -were still locked, and my slim, antique missile-gun was still filed -under "W" (for weapon). I slipped it into my pocket and began rifling -through my papers. I had never, to be truthful, expected to be in a -situation as bad as this. But Top Competitors have to be prepared for -some rough tactics. - -Under "I" was a set of false identity papers. Under "S" was a sleep -bomb--strenuously outlawed in private hands. Under "B" were various -blackmail letters, including one I secretly held over Spacker. I looked -hopefully under "M" for money, but there my foresight had failed me. It -had never occurred to me that a man with a quarter of a million in the -bank, and three times as much in securities, would some day need money. - -I did find something under "M" that made me pause. Mendelsohn. It was -a yellowed old folder, certainly the oldest in the entire file. My -thoughts suddenly swirled back to college days. This was a project we -had worked up together, when Solly was still hot on soil chemistry, and -I hadn't settled on anything definite except somehow making a fortune. -This was a technique for creating tillable topsoil out of solid rock in -ten short years. About a million times faster than nature could do it, -but who wanted to wait ten years? - -Not I, at least. And when I, who was to do the selling, cooled off on -the idea, Solly lost interest too. - -Intriguing, though. Maybe Solly would like it back. Maybe the poor -shlub could use it on Primus Gladus. I began stuffing things in my -briefcase. - -Charlie Spacker returned. I could hear him enter the adjoining office. -I gave him time to settle down at his desk, then made my appearance. - -"Bart!" He was genuinely startled. Charlie was a heavy-set, muscular -man with deep resonant voice, short-cut wiry hair, and ruggedly -sculptured Roman features. He was a good bargainer by instinct, a rough -competitor within established ground rules, but weak on the frontiers, -slow to assimilate new ideas, fearful of decisions. - -"You've been a long time in returning, Charlie. I've waited here almost -an hour. The gentlemen outside are growing impatient." - -Charlie was confused. "They know you're here?" - -"How do you think I got in? Through the window?" - -"But I thought you were in serious trouble. Beach called and said--" - -"I know all about that. Beach is behind the time, and he's not getting -any more of our business, do you understand?" I had been speaking -harshly. Now I fell into the familiar friendly vein. "Charlie, this -is the situation. I came within an inch of getting my head chopped -off. But I spoke to the Central Committeeman, and the matter's being -straightened out." - -I paced the office casually. "It's costing me money, of course. A cool -half-million." - -Charlie's eyes grew to the first magnitude. "Canopus! Have you got that -much?" - -"Not quite. Not in cash, anyway. There are some securities I can't put -on the market right now. So I'm a hundred thousand short. Which isn't -so much, actually." - -I had to make this sound completely nonchalant. "I thought I'd borrow -it from the business for thirty days. I assume that's all right with -you?" - -Spacker is no fool either. He hesitated. "Well sure, Bart, if we have -it. But you know, with this Venus crisis we're running pretty close." - -I exploded. "What do you mean, 'if we have it'! Our assets top thirty -million." - -"You weren't in the pit this morning, Bart. The way Venus commodities -are going, we'll be damn lucky to cover our commitments." - -"_That_ bad? Well, it's a good thing I'm leaving for Venus tonight." I -paused. "All right, Charlie, then make me a personal loan." - -"I'd be glad to, Bart. But ... considering the circumstances, how can I -be sure you'll come back from Venus?" Spacker was shrewd. - -"Don't be absurd, Charlie." I tried to make light of his bullseye. "If -that bothers you, I'll give you two-for-one in government series R as -collateral." - -Spacker shook his head. "If something should go wrong with this deal -you've made, then the government will be able to reclaim them as -forfeit. And I'll be out a hundred thousand." - - * * * * * - -I was swallowing the humiliation, frustrated with a rage that I had to -conceal. I was furious at his lack of trust, and chagrined that he was -so well justified. - -"All right, Charlie," I said cordially. "I'm a little hurt by your -suspiciousness, but you have me at a disadvantage. I need the money. I -suppose I could raise it some other way, but then that would delay my -departure for Venus. And you know that our mutual welfare is tied up -with the trip. - -"If so many things worry you about this personal transaction, let me -put your mind at ease. I'll sign over my equity in the business as -security for the loan. Is that good enough?" - -Charlie was now his best competitive self. "Look at it from my point -of view, Bart. If you didn't return, the business would become all -mine anyway. Isn't that right?" A bland look of innocence spread over -his face, a mask concealing the saturnine smile. "Bart, I suggest you -delay your trip for a day or so. Raise the money some other way." - -I held back long enough to believe my ears. Then I drew my gun. "You -bastard!" - -"You can't force me to sign! I'd repudiate it by phone the minute you -left!" - -"I'll kill you!" - -"That won't get you the money. You'll rot in the slave-mines of -Mercury!" - -True. A feeling of fatalism swept over me like ocean surf. I opened -Spacker's door and called out to the detectives: - -"If you gentlemen will step in here, we've just received word of Mr. -Sponsor's whereabouts." - -Then I stepped back behind the door jamb, leveling the gun at Spacker. -He knew I meant silence. He knew I would kill. - -The detectives entered. I jumped behind them. "Raise your hands!" - -They complied. - -"You too, Spacker. Now, the three of you turn your backs to me and walk -to the wall. Keep those hands high!" - -I opened my briefcase with one hand, withdrew the sleep bomb, hurled -it at their feet. The detectives knew what it was after one gasp, and -tried to hold their breath. But one gasp is enough. They crumpled to -the floor, unconscious. I closed Spacker's door and hung up the 'Do Not -Disturb' sign. - -Our robot secretary was taking a flurry of phone messages. I waited -patiently in the anteroom till Claire returned. - -"Here they are," she said soberly, handing me the envelope. "Three -berths on the _Sophocles_." - -"That's wonderful, Claire! Thanks a lot. By the way, you'll notice that -those gentlemen have left. The matter is all straightened out." - -A smile wreathed her face. "I'm very happy for you, Mr. Sponsor." - -"In celebration, you know what we're going to do? We're going to give -you the rest of the day off!" - -She was enthralled. I waited until five minutes after she'd left, then -walked briskly to the down-shaft. - -I had to assume there were detectives posted at the main floor -entrance. And on the roof. And even perhaps in the freight entrance. I -got off on the second floor. - -I walked down the corridor, studying the signs on doorways. There was a -market research firm, Mechlen Drew Inc., that occupied a large suite, -with several labeled doors. I opened one that said 'Employes' and found -myself in a room with a medium-sized computer and several preoccupied -mathematicians. - -I went directly and purposefully to the window, opened it, and -calculated the distance to ground level. Twelve feet maybe. The -employes looked at me with faint interest. Someone from the building -maintenance department, probably. - -For a minute or two I watched the pedestrians glide by on the conveyer -belt. I saw no evidence of the police. - -"I think I'll have to examine this from the outside," I said to the -employes. "Will one of you close the window after me?" - -I got out on the sill, eased my body down, hung by my fingertips for a -moment, then let go. I could see a puzzled expression at the window as -I glided away and became lost in pedestrian cross-traffic. - -In a mood of self-congratulation, I headed for the Art Institute. The -mood vanished as I passed the first newsstand. Boldly on its display -screen was a front page story about the fugitive Sponsor family. There -were pictures, of course. They didn't have a very good one of Celia. -College graduation shot. She had nothing to worry about. The photo of -Freddie was better, but the city is full of skinny seven-year-olds with -sensitive features. No great risk of recognition there. - -But the one of me! A perfect likeness. Repeated on an endless number -of newsstands between the Board of Trade Building and the museum. The -large, oval-shaped bald head, shorn of all but a trace of sideburns. -The straight, prominent nose with flaring nostrils. The large, sensual -lips. The hard-clamped jaw. - -Thanking Zeus for Chicago's anonymous millions, I entered the quietly -thronged Art Institute. - - * * * * * - -Celia and Freddie were looking at paintings of the Prismatic school, -without much enthusiasm, when I found them. Their greeting made me feel -like a hero. - -"Daddy!" said Freddie, hitting my leg joyfully as Celia embraced me -with a passionate kiss. - -"It's one-thirty," said Celia softly, achingly. "We were so worried." - -"Let's go eat," I suggested, suddenly aware of hunger pangs. - -"We already have, but it'll be much nicer this time." - -We went to the tea room. Alongside was the sunken garden, with its -dwarf trees and moist green grass and bubbling waterfall. Three or four -pieces of ancient sculpture--smooth white marble of the Greeks--stood -in the garden on pedestals. Somehow these had survived the destruction. - -"Nothing else remained of the whole collection," said Celia sadly. -"Renoirs, Rembrandts, Raphaels--all, all gone." - -"I'm tired, mommy. Why can't we go home now?" - -"After a while, dear. Poor kid! He's weary of looking at pictures, and -so am I." - -"Freddie," I asked, "why didn't you like to play games with the other -children at school?" Celia glanced at me disapprovingly. - -"Oh, I like to play games. But ... it just seems that when everyone's -trying so hard to win ... it spoils the fun. You know." - -"Leave him alone, Bart." - -I finished my ersatz soup and my synthetic sandwich, and drank down a -cup of chemical coffee, and felt much better. - -Freddie napped on one of the garden benches, and that was a good thing -for him and for us. We had to talk, weigh alternatives, make plans. - -"The real crisis," I said, "is at five o'clock when this place closes. -Then we have to get into our ship and fly somewhere. Wherever we go -there'll be police looking for a green Cad Super with Iowa license -plates." - -"We have one advantage at that time," said Celia. "Rush hour. If you -can stay in the thick of traffic ... and not hedge-hop." - -"Don't worry!" - -"The real crisis, I think, is when we board the Venus ship," said -Celia. "The police will be watching all departures, checking -identities, just as a matter of routine." - -"That's true, but we don't go aboard as a threesome. You and Freddie -earlier. And I at the last minute, with false identity papers." - -Celia shook her head as if warding off an unpleasant thought. "Aren't -you afraid that when Spacker wakes up he'll tell them about the Venus -ship?" - -"According to my information, the sleep bomb knocks you out for ten or -eleven hours. A doctor can bring you out of it a little sooner, but you -still don't regain your full senses right away." - -"Even allowing ten hours, Bart. One and ten is eleven. Our ship leaves -at twelve o'clock. That means we face one hour of supreme risk." - -She was right, of course. And there was one more source of anxiety that -I thought it best not to mention. Claire. What would Claire say if she -found out about the sleep bomb? If she went back to the office for -any reason this afternoon? Or if the police found out in some manner? -Surely they would go looking for the detectives. Surely they would -question Claire. What would she tell them? - - * * * * * - -Five o'clock. Exit separately through the rear door to the parking lot. - -First Celia, walking briskly, with keys to the car in her gloved hand. -Unaware how I stare at her handsome figure, voluptuous movements of hip -and thigh. How akin the awareness of danger and awareness of sex! - -She opens the car door, turns the ignition key, idles the engine. - -Next, Freddie, as well coached as possible. Unhurried, lackadaisical. -Taking a slow, wandering path, oblivious of the peril, curious about -the other cars, taking his time. - -He reaches our car and Celia scoops him up, and I see him clamber over -the front seat and bury himself in the back. - -Then I, striding heavily, hastily. Briefcase in hand. Looking neither -right nor left. Lowering chin almost onto chest. Waiting for a voice -behind me. Expecting a shout: 'Wait! Stop!' - -I reach our car, jump in, slam the door, open the throttle. We ascend. -Circle into the lowest, slowest, most congested local traffic lane, -westward bound over Chicago. - - * * * * * - -I didn't much like Celia's suggestion. But I couldn't think of a better -one. And we had to spend the next five or six hours somewhere. - -"So why not the Mendelsohns?" said Celia. "It's a little early for -their party, but I'm sure we'll be welcome." - -"All right. But we've got to keep quiet about our ... troubles. I don't -want that shlub to have the last laugh on me." - -It was an evening in early fall, and the sun was setting, but not fast -enough for my comfort. I craved the protection of darkness. We already -had passed two police cars headed eastward, and each time I cringed -helplessly, and Celia and Freddie ducked down out of sight. Possibly -the red sunset tones were falsifying the green of our car. Otherwise, I -can't see how they overlooked us. - -Traffic was starting to thin out as we arrived over the Mendota -district of Chicago. This was kind of a marginal area--no longer -desirable, not yet slum--where respectable poor people maintained some -semblance of pride in their old dilapidated solar-heated homes. It was -an area so thick with grime and industrial soot, that I had a hard -time making out the roof markers from two-hundred feet. The glass and -concrete dwellings were universally alike in pattern, a hollow square -with patio in the center. Yet despite the general poverty below, I -failed to see a single house that didn't have a rattletrap aircar of -some kind parked in the rear. All except the Mendelsohn house. The -Mendelsohns never owned a car. They had turned their backyard into a -vegetable garden. - -"Think they'll mind if I land there?" - -"Not when they're leaving tomorrow." - -I landed gently, nevertheless. Solly was sensitive about plants. - -I think they were really astonished to see us. The girls ran into each -other's embrace with squeals of recognition. Solly and I shook hands -with a good deal more restraint. Dolores was tossling Freddie's hair. -Then we went into their house. - -It was pretty bare, of course. They had packed most of their things; -probably had them stored aboard ship by now. But there was enough -furniture left that went with the house for us to sit down on. - -"How wonderful! How wonderful of you to come and see us!" said Dolores. -She was a tall, dark, big breasted girl with classical features in the -Byzantine sense. Her hair was black, her movements languid, her voice -deep and melodius. - -"We couldn't see you go to the stars without saying goodbye," said -Celia. - -"We talked about you so often," Dolly said. "Wondering how you were. -What you were doing." - -I found it hard to imagine this exotic, beautiful woman transplanted to -an alien world in the role of pioneer farmgirl. - -"We've thought about you too," said Celia. "So many times." - -It was awkward. Solly and I hadn't exchanged more than five words. - -"Would you like some refreshments?" said Dolly. "Drinks? Something to -eat?" She smiled at me and smiled at Freddie, and nodded yes until -Freddie nodded with her. - -"Sure you do," she said. - -We laughed. Dolly stood up. "We weren't expecting our guests for -another hour, but everything's ready." - -She and Celia and Freddie went into the kitchen. - -I hated to be left alone with Solly, and I suppose the feeling was -reciprocal. - -"Are you glad to be going?" I inquired neutrally. - -"Very." - -"How long does it take to get there?" - -"Two and a half years." - -"That's a long time!" - -"Not considering the distance. Primus Gladus is nine-tenths of a -light-year away." - -"Funny," I said, "a star being that close, undiscovered until this -century." - -"It's not a bright star. Half the luminosity of our sun. For all we -know, there may be others just as close." Solly meditated on the idea. - -"I suppose that's possible," I said. "Must be thousands of stars in the -southern skies--faint stars, I mean--that haven't been measured." - -We were both silent. There seemed nothing further to say. The distance -was as far between us as between Sol and Primus Gladus. I fumbled in my -briefcase. - -"This is something that may interest you, Solly." I handed him the -folder containing his topsoil project. "Found it in my file just this -afternoon. Thought maybe you could use it where you're going." - -He looked at it. His forehead wrinkled in a frown. - -"Remember?" I cued him. "College days?" - - * * * * * - -A light came into his eyes from a source thousands of light-years away. -"Oh yes," he uttered slowly, a faint smile touching the corners of his -mouth. "That was our big business venture. The Topsoil Initiator." He -looked at me peculiarly. "Bart, how come you kept it all these years?" - -"I always thought it was a good idea." This was not a lie. "But why," I -said, "haven't _you_ done anything with it?" - -"O-o-o-oh," he drawled, "no drive, I guess. The real reason, I guess, -is that I never had enough money to buy a barren, rocky acre where I -could give it a practical tryout." - -"Ten years seems like such a long time to wait for results," I said. - -Solly reflected with that faint remembering smile on his lips. "It did -then." - -The girls returned with food and drink, and somehow Solly and I had -warmed up over the topsoil recollection, and we all became quite gay -and animated and loud-talking, and I suppose it was a little like old -times. - -Then a little while later Celia took her purse in the other room, and -when she came out she handed Dolores an envelope. - -I knew what was in it, and I wanted to shout, 'My God, don't do it! -That's all the money we have in the world!' But I couldn't get the -words out, and Celia said: - -"Dolly, here is something for you from us. It's a going-away present. -We want you to have it before the others come." - -"How nice," said Dolly. "What can it be?" - -She opened the envelope, and a mixed expression played across her -face--delight and dismay. - -"Why, it's money!... A lot of money!... Thousands!" - -She turned her head away in reluctance, then handed back the envelope. - -"Oh, no, Celia. We couldn't accept it." - -Celia refused to take it back. "Oh now, Dolly," she snapped, "don't be -stuffy and proud and stupid! We have millions. We _want_ you to have -it. You certainly need it; you can't deny that. So please accept it and -make us happy." - -"It's wonderful of you both," said Solly. "But you know how it is. We -just can't." - -"We just can't," repeated Dolly. - -"Oh please, please," cried Celia, and she was really getting emotional. -"Don't you realize. This is the last time we'll ever see you! You're -going to a far-away world, our two dearest friends. And this may -seem like a lot of money, but it really isn't. It's all the gifts -and presents we would give you in a lifetime, rolled up into one. -It's funny little baby clothes when your children are born. It's -anniversary gifts. It's for your boy's bar mitzvah and your daughter's -confirmation. It's wedding presents when they grow up. It's--it's -funeral wreaths!" - -Celia started to cry, and Dolly started to cry, and they hugged each -other and started to cry even more, and the tears rolled down their -cheeks. And the tears rolled down my cheeks, and Solly's too, I guess, -and we shook hands very solemnly. And Celia stuffed the envelope -into Dolly's hand. And then all of us really cut loose and bawled--I -covering my face with my hands, and Solly burying his face in a -handkerchief. Only Freddie wasn't crying at first. He was just standing -there looking bewildered. And then he got scared and started to cry -too, hanging onto my pants leg with one hand, and trying to reach Celia -with the other. - -And then, thank God, the first guests arrived, ringing the bell, so -that we had a compelling reason to stop. - - * * * * * - -The party was still going strong when we left at eleven. Solly and -Dolly walked us out to our car. There really wasn't much left to say. -We had found each other in friendship again, and would never again be -nearer than nine-tenths of a light-year. - -"A pity!" said Solly, and I knew what he meant. - -The evening was very cool. Celia began to shiver. We took off, and the -cabin heater warmed up the thermometer, but still we felt cold. Freddie -sat in the front seat between us, dozing lightly. - -Our Cad Super roared through the night. Even at full power, Spaceport, -Nevada, was thirty minutes away. The moon set rapidly. The night grew -darker. - -"I fear that we will be caught," said Celia tonelessly, like a voice -dissociated from body. - -Our ship's nose wavered slowly between Procyon and Pollux, Canis Minor -and Gemini, back and forth, droning on in the blackness. - -"I fear for our little boy," said Celia like a soul lost in a maze of -warped space. "What will they do to him?" - -"They'll never lay hands on him," I said softly. - -The Serpent writhed and Charioteer rocked as Twins dueled the Crab and -Hunter pursued Bull. - -"That was a fine gesture you made," Celia whispered. - -"What?" - -"Giving them the money. I'm proud of you." - -The lights of Spaceport glowed on the horizon. It was a vast complex -of launching sites, covering a hundred square miles. But only one -ship could blast off at a time, and that ship would be flooded by -searchlights. I singled out the Venus rocket and we descended. - -It was eleven-thirty-two. I handed Celia her two tickets. - -As we approached the Venus compound I could see several police cars -parked on the field. Passengers seemed to be leaving rather than -entering the ship. The gangway was crowded with people pouring out of -the spacelock. - -"They're looking for us," I muttered. - -"Is that why they're all getting off?" said Celia. - -"They must be shaking down the entire ship." - -"This is the moment I feared." She tightened her grip on Freddie. - -"There must be a way of getting aboard!" I said. - -We edged forward to the gates of the field. - -"There is no way of getting aboard," said Celia. Her voice was -hopeless. She motioned at a large bulletin board. - -The sign read: VENUS FLIGHTS CANCELLED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE BECAUSE -OF CIVIL DISORDERS ON THAT PLANET. - -I was weary and defeated, but I said, "Honey, we're not licked. We can -still go to Australia." - -"I have a better idea," Celia exclaimed. It was as though a new current -of life, a new gusher of hope, had burst through the surface. "Let's go -to Primus Gladus!" - - * * * * * - -It was four in the morning. We had told Solly and Dolly the straight -story. - -"Do you think we can get a berth on the ship?" my wife queried -anxiously. "Is there any way you can help us?" - -The Mendelsohns exchanged glances. - -"I don't know," said Solly. "Truthfully. Let me think about it a few -minutes." - -"Since you've told us the truth about yourselves," said Dolly, "do you -mind hearing some things you don't know about us?" - -"All cards might as well be face up," I replied. - -"Well listen, you two. It isn't easy to emigrate to another system. If -you're a shlub, yes. But not if you're a soil chemist, or any other -kind of scientist or advanced technician. Earth won't let the boys -with know-how get out of its clutches." Dolly's eyes were burning with -a message she only half-dared to communicate. "Does this give you any -clues?" she asked, eagerly scanning our faces. - -Suddenly the parts fit perfectly. "Solly! You did it deliberately. You -washed out of school! You let your career fall to pieces. On purpose!" - -Solly was nodding and smiling rather grimly. - -"But why?" I demanded. "You had such brilliant prospects here on -Earth. Why did you do it?" - -"Surely you of all people must know by now," said Dolly excitedly. -"Can you and your family go on living in this kind of a world? Can you -endure this police-state tyranny now that you know what it is? Can you -accept the hypocrisy, the masquerade behind pious slogans? What is -this thing they call Competition? Is it really good? Is it really the -expression of democracy? Is it what they want or is it forced on them?" - -"Dolly, you're asking more questions than you're answering," said -Celia, trying to head her off. - -"Or is it organized greed? Simple dog-eat-dog? The law of jungle -cunning and brute force re-affirmed? If we must compete, let it not be -as maggots swarming over a half-eaten pie! Let's get people to vie with -one another in service to mankind!" - -Dolly had worked herself into a kind of evangelical zeal, with Solly -nodding hypnotically in agreement. - -I answered calmly, trying not to strain our newly healed friendship. -"I don't go along with you on some of the things you say, Dolly. I -personally think competition is the mainspring of progress--" - -Solly started to protest. - -"--material progress," I added. - -"Well, maybe," said Celia, and in a flash I could see what had gone -wrong with Freddie's home-life, from the school principal's point of -view. "But I can't see what competitiveness has to do with creative -art, or the pure sciences, or philosophy. I think it's positively -destructive in those areas. The real struggle there is internal, not -external. To me, competition is only a part of life not the whole of -it." - -"You're all wrong!" I shouted. "My only concern is with the welfare -of Freddie. That's what got us into this predicament. I want you to -understand that I'm for the system ninety-five per cent!" - -Solly, Dolly, and Celia smiled. That irritated me but I let the matter -drop. - -"Let's consider what's to be done," I said. - -"Yes," said Solly very seriously. "I can tell you this about the -star-ship. On a voyage of two and a half years, nothing can be done -haphazardly, at the last minute. Every berth has to be accounted for -long in advance. Our baggage has been calculated down to the last -ounce. The number of farming implements, the number of livestock--even -the number of children you may have en route!--are strictly allocated." - -"In other words, the only way we can get aboard is if someone dies or -doesn't show up at the last minute?" said Celia. - -"Or if you can persuade someone not to make the trip." - -"And in addition get by the police," I added softly. - - * * * * * - -At seven that morning the airbus stopped to pick up the Mendelsohns -and their hand luggage. We had worked out some kind of half-baked plan -that I didn't think would go over with the ship's officials. We set a -rendezvous time and place and waved them off. Then we got into our Cad -Super. For the second time it bore us west to Spaceport. - -As we neared the field, Celia commented, "You know, darling, this car -is pretty conspicuous in the daytime." - -"I'm hungry, mommy," said Freddie who had missed out on breakfast -altogether. Celia gave him a soggy hors d'oeuvre, which was all that -was left from the Mendelsohn's party. - -I had been thinking about what to do with our expensive car. I brought -it down almost a mile from the star-ship _Pericles_. - -"You two will have to walk the rest of the way," I said cheerily. "I'll -meet you at our rendezvous point in about twenty-five minutes." - -The time was now seven-thirty. The ship blasted off at nine. I put -our car in a steep climb and circled the field at an altitude of ten -thousand feet, where I could see which of the many spaceships were -loading passengers. - -I chose one ship arbitrarily at the opposite end of the field from -the star-ship. It turned out to be an Asteroid surveyor, paying its -way with a hundred or so passengers to Ganymede. I set down in the -adjoining lot, and fixed the degravity controls so that the ship -hovered a few inches off the ground, and left it that way to drift -across the field with the wind until it attracted the inevitable -attention. - -I walked to the next shuttle bus stop and rode across to the -_Pericles_. It was a gigantic ship, twenty times the capacity of a -Venus or Mars rocket. Comet-shaped, engineered to approach fifty -per cent of the speed of light through cumulative acceleration, the -star-ship had two vast cargo entrances in addition to the passenger -airlock. In one, which was now closing, I caught sight of crated farm -machinery. Into the other, herds of cattle were being driven. - -It was nearly eight o'clock. I approached the _Pericles_ warily. We -were all supposed to meet by the livestock gate. Dozens of people were -milling about, some ranchers, some colonizers, bargaining at the last -minute over a sheep or a goat or a horse or a cow to replace a dead or -sick animal. That some of the men were detectives I did not doubt. I -saw Celia close to the entrance with Freddie. We exchanged glances of -recognition, but kept widely separated. - -Solly came up. "I checked with the captain about Dolly and me waiving -our right to have a child during the voyage, and taking Freddie with us -instead. You were right. He wouldn't buy it." - -"That was tremendously generous of you even to offer." - -"But," said Solly, "there's been one cancellation!" - -Our eyes met. "What's the fare?" I inquired. - -"Two thousand." Solly looked down for a moment, then threw back his -head. "Look, that's still your money, even if you did give it to us. -Dolly and I are willing ... would be happy to pay Freddie's fare. And -take care of him as our own if you and Celia can't get on." - -"My son has no future on Earth," I said. "If Celia's willing, I am. Go -talk to her." - -Solly went to Celia. She did not once look in my direction and I was -glad. In the end, Freddie went with Solly, and I could tell what the -lie was. Solly was going to show Freddie the insides of the wonderful -ship. - -It was a quarter after eight. Only forty-five minutes before take-off. -Celia and I were going to be left behind. There didn't seem much reason -for further pretense. I took my wife's hand. - -"Little did we know how important your going-away present would be. -Solly used two thousand of it to pay Freddie's fare." - -Celia shook her head. "He didn't have to do that." - -"Sweetheart, all we have left is about a hundred and fifty credits." - -"That may be all _you_ have left," she said proudly, "but that isn't -all _we_ have left. If my addition is correct, we have ninety thousand -cash credits in my purse, right at this minute!" - -"What! How do you mean?" - -Celia put her arm in mine. "I played a dirty trick on you, darling. You -signed and I added another zero." - -"You took out a hundred thousand! No wonder that teller made such a -fuss." - -"Dear, I thought you might have to use a little bribery. I knew Freddie -was in trouble, and that was my fault, of course. I'm the villain in -his home-life!" She smiled ruefully, then looked at the _Pericles_, her -eyes brimming with tears. "But I had no idea they'd try to take him -away from us!" - -My thoughts pulsed wildly. "Look, Celia! We can both get aboard! -Give me the money!" I took her purse and ran over to the huddle of -colonizers. - -"I've got ninety-thousand cash credits! Who'll give up his place on the -_Pericles_?" - -The group turned to face me in astonishment. One man came forward. I -thought I saw a gun hidden in his sleeve. "Ninety thousand?" - -"That's right. Who wants it?" - -"Ninety thousand is a small fortune," said the man. "Anyone with that -kind of money shouldn't need to pull up stakes on Earth and start life -all over again on a new planet. Should he?" - -"I don't imagine so. Who'll take ninety thousand for his place on the -_Pericles_?" I repeated over his shoulder. - -"Unless he has some special, very compelling reason for leaving Earth," -the stranger continued. - - * * * * * - -A colonizer ran up breathlessly. "Ninety thousand? Let me see it!" - -I opened the purse, pulled out the wad of bills, and flung the purse on -the ground. - -The colonizer riffed through the wad. "That's for me! I'll take it!" - -He reached for the money. - -"Just a minute," I said. "It's yours after you give that lady over -there your berth and make it legal with the ship." - -"Hey," said a companion, "how about all your belongings? Your cattle -and equipment? You haven't time any more to take it off." - -"Heck, my whole outfit isn't worth more than fifteen thousand! I'll -give it to the lady." - -He ran to Celia and the two of them dashed for the passenger ramp. It -was eight-thirty-five. Twenty-five minutes before take-off. - -I put the money in my coat pocket. - -"I don't think," said the stranger, "that this transaction is going -through." He stepped so close we were almost jaw to jaw. "Let me see -your identity tag." - -"Who are you trying to impersonate?" I said. - -"A common ordinary rancher," he replied, flashing his badge. "Now let's -see your identification." - -"Certainly." I showed him my false wrist tag. - -"Donald Simpson, I see." He stared at me through narrowed eyes. "Where -did you find that, Mr. Sponsor?" - -"Sponsor? Is that the guy you're looking for? I have about a dozen -other documents to prove I'm Simpson. If you have the patience to look -at them." - -I opened the briefcase and handed him the packet. They had cost me -thousands and they were awfully good forgeries. They slowed the -detective down quite a bit. - -"Why are you offering that kind of money to get the lady on board?" - -"Because I'm awfully anxious to get rid of her." - -"You didn't happen to put a kid aboard that ship too, for the same -reason?" - -"If you think I did, why don't you go look?" - -"I may do that, mister. You know, we can hold this ship on the field -for an hour or more if we think it would prove profitable." - -I saw Celia waving from the passenger gangway, and the colonizer come -sprinting our way. - -"It's done!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "Let's have the money." - -I reached into my pocket. - -The detective laid his hand on my arm. "I said I didn't think this -transaction was going through." He turned to the colonizer. "You'd -better switch things back to the way they were." - -"No," I said, pressing the gun through my coat pocket into the belly of -the detective, "don't pay any attention to this character." I crossed -over with my other hand and withdrew the money. - -"Take this," I said to the colonizer, "and get out of here. Fast as you -can!" - -He was confused but not on basic things. He took his money and -virtually ran. - -Ten minutes to nine. - -They were closing up the passenger airlock, removing the ramp. - -"You know," said the detective very quietly, "my buddy is coming. He -won't understand this embrace we're in. I'm quite sure he won't like it -one bit." - -The last of the animals were being led into the livestock hold. The -ranchers were dispersing. The colonizers were all aboard. We stood -virtually alone beside the ship. - -"I am prepared to be killed," I said, "and to take you with me in the -process." - -A police car hovered in the air beside us. - -"Say!" yelled its pilot. "They've found the Sponsor car over next to -the Asteroid surveyor!" He pointed across the field. "They're searching -the ship. We've got to help. Hop on!" - -I stepped back, with my hand still in my pocket. - -"Yes," I said, "hop on!" - -The detective clambered aboard the police car. He gave me a look that -I'll always remember. A sort of sneer and a sort of smile. "Good luck, -Simpson," he said. - -The police car whisked away. - -Five minutes to nine. - -I wheeled and ran to the livestock hold. The hatch was about shut and I -knew it was too late. 'Goodbye, my darlings! Goodbye!' - -Then the hatch jammed and could not close the last six inches and I saw -the reason. A steer had broken loose and charged the door. His head was -caught in the opening. His neck had snapped instantly and he was dead. - -They re-opened the hatch long enough to fling the thousand-pound -carcass onto the field. And that was all the time I needed to come -aboard. - -A crew member hollered at me: "Do you belong here?" - -"Yes," I replied, "I certainly do." - -As I said it, the ship blasted heavenward and I was flung to the -deck. I started to curse, and then I chuckled. I was stretched out -ignominiously beside a cow in the fresh-smelling hay. - -I, Bart Sponsor, Top Competitor, starting a new life. This way! - -_Well Solly_, I mused, _understand the planet we're going to has lots -of rocky acres._ - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMPETE OR DIE! *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Compete or Die!</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Mark Reinsberg</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 22, 2021 [eBook #65669]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMPETE OR DIE! ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop"> - <img src="images/illusc.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p>Bart Sponsor was a Top Competitor and he<br /> -pitied those who were not. But one small error<br /> -made him seek retirement. Yet, he could only—</p> - -<h1>COMPETE OR DIE!</h1> - -<h2>By Mark Rainsberg</h2> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -February 1957<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>I slammed the aircar door and fumbled in my pocket for the key. I cast -a quick backward glance at the policeman a hundred feet away.</p> - -<p>He wheeled about at the sound.</p> - -<p>My trembling fingers tried to fit the key into the ignition.</p> - -<p>"Halt!" the policeman yelled unlimbering his gun and breaking into a -run.</p> - -<p>My fingers failed to coordinate. I heard a shot and nervously -dropped the key. I bent over frantically to scoop it up.</p> - -<p>There was another shot. Pieces of glass trickled down my neck. I -straightened up and saw a hole in the windshield, level with my eyes.</p> - -<p>"Hands up!" The cop had slowed down to take careful aim. He was so -close now he could hardly miss.</p> - -<p>"Don't shoot!" I shouted. "I surrender!"</p> - -<p>I inserted the key in the ignition with desperate precision, gunning -the engines so hard that the ship spun halfway around. The policeman -leaped out of the way as my Cad Super roared past him and lurched into -the air.</p> - -<p>I heard a tattoo of shots from the ground and then we were out of range.</p> - -<p>I swore as the acceleration crushed me deep into the seat. My forehead -was pounding.</p> - -<p>"Bart Sponsor, fugitive," I thought bitterly. "And only a half-hour -ago I was a pillar of society. Worst thing I had to worry about was a -speeding ticket...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>... I had been griping to my wife as usual about the rush-hour morning -traffic above Chicago.</p> - -<p>"Look at this. Just look at this," I said disgustedly.</p> - -<p>Below us, the lanes were choked with ponderous, slow-moving commuter -copters. Around us, flivver-jets clogged the expressway like millions -of migrating birds. We couldn't make more than three hundred miles an -hour.</p> - -<p>"The stupid shlubs," I muttered resentfully. "They ought to ride the -pneumatic tubes to work."</p> - -<p>"The airlanes should be reserved for Top Competitors only," said Celia -teasingly. "Like you, dear."</p> - -<p>I ignored her sarcasm and scanned the empty lane overhead. All that -blue sky set aside for outgoing traffic, and nothing in sight. A -shameful waste.</p> - -<p>I gunned our Cad Super, joyfully, defiantly, and scooted up over the -assigned traffic stream at a thousand per. Celia gave me an alarmed -look.</p> - -<p>"Bart! You'll get a ticket."</p> - -<p>I grinned and kicked our speed up an additional two hundred.</p> - -<p>Illegal, of course, but I made terrific time crossing the Iowa-Illinois -border where Chicagoland begins. I didn't squeeze back into the -expressway until mighty Municipal Tower came into view through the -dense industrial haze above Lake Michigan. There atop the building -stood a gigantic sign revolving on a pivot with the wind. It bore the -seal of Chicago and the stunning legend: I WILL COMPETE. Most inspiring -motto in the world, I think.</p> - -<p>Celia touched my hand. "We'll have to stop at the bank first."</p> - -<p>"No time," I said. "We're due at the school at nine-thirty."</p> - -<p>"It won't hurt to be a few minutes late. This is important, Bart."</p> - -<p>We have a good marriage, and I don't quarrel with Celia's wishes. But -this meant another delay, and I could already see half the morning -shot, what with the meeting in the principal's office, and afterwards -perhaps taking Freddie out for a soda or something to make him feel -secure and loved. What a lot of trouble that boy was getting into -lately.</p> - -<p>I wheeled out of traffic and feathered down to the roof of the 1st -National. A conveyer belt carried our ship toward the teller's window.</p> - -<p>Celia opened her purse and withdrew a bank form. "Here, I think you'll -have to sign this, darling."</p> - -<p>I voiced my irritation. "Withdraw it in your own name. It's a joint -account. Personally, I don't understand how you can need more money -when I just gave you four hundred yesterday."</p> - -<p>"This is a very large amount," said Celia softly. "Bank requires it."</p> - -<p>"How much?" I asked suspiciously.</p> - -<p>"Ten thousand." She was staring at me intently with her almond-shaded -eyes. Her full red lips were parted in the faintest trace of a smile, -as her neat brown-pencilled eyebrows arched slightly in amused defiance.</p> - -<p>She was daring me to ask the obvious question. Hell, I thought, I can -afford it. I signed the form and passed it back to her.</p> - -<p>We were at the teller window. She scribbled on the sheet and handed it -to the clerk.</p> - -<p>"Now," I said, feeling that I'd fulfilled the code of gallantry, "may I -ask what you need it for?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, dear. I'm giving it to the Mendelsohns as a going-away -present. Tonight at their farewell party."</p> - -<p>"What! Ten thousand credits? Are you insane! The Mendelsohns mean -nothing to me." I was so upset that I kicked the degravity pedal and we -started to rise from the roof. I brought us down with a thud.</p> - -<p>"They mean a lot to me," said Celia calmly. "They used to mean a lot to -you too."</p> - -<p>"But ten thousand!" I protested. "What do you think I am, a millionaire -philanthropist?"</p> - -<p>"It is a lot of money," Celia agreed placatingly. "But the Mendelsohns -are leaving tomorrow for Primus Gladus. We'll never see them again."</p> - -<p>"So what!" I said heatedly. "Thousands of people go to the stars as -colonists. Thousands of failures like the Mendelsohns think their luck -will change on another planet. Does this mean that—"</p> - -<p>"Bart, consider," said Celia. "If they had remained here on Earth -as our friends, there would have been many occasions in a lifetime -when I would have sent them remembrances. The birth of children. -Anniversaries. Graduations. Confirmations, bar mitzvahs, wedding -presents. Funeral wreaths. All I've done now is roll up all those gifts -of a lifetime into one farewell present, of a size that will help them -a little on their new world."</p> - -<p>"I've cut off a lot of heads for that money. Grain brokerage is a -brutal profession, what with thirty billion mouths clamoring for food, -and the government keeping speculation in a straight-jacket, and that -insurrection on Venus, the granary of the solar system, making wheat -futures a nightmare. This kind of generosity leaves me cold. I had more -to say on the subject, but the bank teller spoke up to Celia.</p> - -<p>"Your identification, please?"</p> - -<p>Celia showed him her wrist plate.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Mrs. Sponsor, I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but this is such a -large amount that we'll need your husband's personal verification. Bank -rules, you know."</p> - -<p>"This is my husband."</p> - -<p>My irritation mounted. "I'm Sponsor," I said to the teller, flourishing -my wrist band. "What's the difficulty?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, Mr. Sponsor, would you like to step in a moment and speak to our -chief cashier?"</p> - -<p>"I haven't time," I blurted sharply. "Give my wife the money!" We were -already ten minutes late to our school appointment.</p> - -<p>The teller looked abashed and hesitant.</p> - -<p>"Look here," I demanded, "if we don't get better service around here -I'll take my account elsewhere!"</p> - -<p>That did it. He fussed around and finally handed Celia the bundle which -she had some trouble fitting into her purse. "Small denominations," -she explained. I gunned our car peevishly, I must admit, and the -acceleration shoved her back into the seat rest. We were ten minutes -late already. I should have called my office.</p> - -<p>We soared into air above old Chicago, the part rebuilt after World War -III. The lake claimed a good share of the blast area, of course, but -that's what makes our city so unusually beautiful now. Four hundred -tiny islands dot the lakefront, some connected by causeways, others -reachable only by aircar or boat.</p> - -<p>"Why are you so cross?" said Celia, taking the offensive the way women -do when they've pulled some outrageous stunt.</p> - -<p>"Look, you can't have it both ways. You can give them the money, but -you can't get me to say I like the idea."</p> - -<p>"Solly Mendelsohn was once your closest friend."</p> - -<p>"Solly is a poor competitor, Celia. Let's face up to it. He has -brains. He once showed signs of being a brilliant soil chemist, but he -washed out of school. And then he became a fertilizer salesman, and -he couldn't make a go of that. And after that he took up hydroponic -farming, but he wasn't a success at that either. No wonder he wants to -try another planet!"</p> - -<p>"Solly has had a lot of personal misfortunes."</p> - -<p>"That's an excuse all the shlubs use. No. The fact is, he just can't -compete. And unless you compete in this world, you're dead."</p> - -<p>Below on its own crescent-shaped island lay Chicago Classical School. I -put our ship into a fast elevator dive. "My sympathies," I added, "go -to Dolores. She's a bright, attractive kid. Keen competitor. She didn't -deserve a shlub for a husband." I paused. "And about that party they're -giving tonight. I'm not going."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Chicago Classical was frankly a boarding school for privileged kids. -It taught the first six years, and no better I'm sure than the public -schools of Chicago. But there was social distinction. The contacts -would be good for Freddie later on. Freddie boarded there five days -a week and came home to us on weekends, uncommunicative about his -experiences, but happy to go romping with me in the woods and ravine -adjoining our estate near Mason City. Unfortunately, that wasn't too -often. Competitive pressure kept me in Chicago sometimes three or four -weeks at a stretch.</p> - -<p>When they gave the first graders a word-picture test, Celia once told -me, Freddie had represented the word <i>father</i> by the symbols of a bald -head, pipe and briefcase. After that, whenever I couldn't get home on -Saturday or Sunday, I made an effort to have lunch with the boy in -Chicago at least once during the week. But of course you can't get to -know your son very well that way.</p> - -<p>"Just what is this trouble Freddie's involved in?" I asked as we -descended. "Why don't you keep me better informed on the boy?"</p> - -<p>"I try to, but when have you had time to listen? I usually see you at -our cocktail parties for clients, or else at three in the morning when -you drop into bed too exhausted to get into pajamas."</p> - -<p>"Well, this matter with the principal. Are you sure it's so serious?"</p> - -<p>"They never ask for both parents unless it is," Celia assured me, -glancing soberly at the school buildings as we came to earth.</p> - -<p>We parked, I noticed, alongside a dark blue official car, with the -municipal seal, and the initials S.T.A.R.S. "Never heard of that one," -I told Celia as we walked to the main dormitory and administration -building.</p> - -<p>The place was a gloomy gray, vine-covered neo-gothic structure -which ignored almost a thousand years of architectural progress. An -old-fashioned electric eye opened the door. Inside, the building -smelled like stale bread, musty linen and floor varnish, combined with -a dash of urine. The interior lighting was unnaturally bright, it -seemed to me, like in a surgical arena. The only harmonious note was -struck by the mural in the vestibule. One entire wall was covered by -an allegorical painting of sports, professions, and industry, with the -phrase COMPETE OR PERISH emblazoned boldly across the top.</p> - -<p>Celia nudged me. "A little raw for school kids, don't you think?"</p> - -<p>This was an old, unhealed grievance between us. "Those are the -twenty-fourth century facts of life," I replied evenly.</p> - -<p>We reported to the receptionist robot in an alcove controlling the -inner set of doors.</p> - -<p>"You are fifteen minutes late," said the machine. "I will announce you. -Be seated please."</p> - -<p>We remained standing. I spied a public wall phone and jerked into -awareness. "Excuse me, honey. I have to call the office!"</p> - -<p>I hastily dialed our number and got the busy signal. Wow! All nine -lines were tied up, including our human and our robot receptionists. I -immediately dialed our unlisted private number, and somebody answered -with a curse, and I knew it was my partner Charlie Spacker.</p> - -<p>"Compete, man! Compete!" he shouted. "Where the hell are you?"</p> - -<p>"Chicago Classical School. Personal problem. I told you about it."</p> - -<p>"Well, get over here quick! That Venus situation is about to blow up, -and we're tied up to the tune of three hundred million in wheat and -soybeans!"</p> - -<p>"I'll be over within a half hour. Meanwhile, have Claire book passage -on the next Venus rocket. One of us has got to go there."</p> - -<p>"Willco," said Claire. She always monitored our calls.</p> - -<p>"All right," stormed Charlie, "that may help us a month from now. But -what about now? Do I buy or sell? These customers are drowning me!"</p> - -<p>Charlie was a great bluff man who inspired the clients' confidence, but -he quailed at policy decisions. I thought fast. I'd go there and make a -deal with the insurrectionists. Help finance the rebellion in exchange -for exclusive first option. If they won, good. If they lost, status quo -anyway.</p> - -<p>Celia was gesturing urgently as the inner door opened.</p> - -<p>"Buy!" I said and I slammed down the receiver.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was hard to adjust to the dim lighting in the principal's office. -His room was loaded with antique fiberglass furniture of the -twenty-first century. He sat behind, or rather within, a donut-shaped -desk, a moon-faced man with short, monk-like haircut, and bulbous nose.</p> - -<p>"You are the parents of Edmund Sponsor?" We nodded. He pressed a -button. "Very well. We will send for the boy."</p> - -<p>He swivelled around to face a wall of slanting glass which overlooked -the children's playground. We could see two ranks of boys in a -tug-of-war, and some little girls playing red-rover.</p> - -<p>"Scott," he said into a tiny microphone on his desk top. A playground -instructor looked up.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Please send Edmund Sponsor to my office."</p> - -<p>"He's not here, sir. I believe he's in the dormitory."</p> - -<p>"How does that happen?" demanded the principal. "This is game time."</p> - -<p>"He declined to join in the competition, sir."</p> - -<p>"I see. Thank you."</p> - -<p>I felt a hot flush of embarrassment. My son non-competitive? That -seemed impossible. He must be ill. It was an insulting accusation.</p> - -<p>The principal flicked on the wall visa-screen. It showed a lean, rather -formally-attired man seated on a lounge in the anteroom, next to a -uniformed policeman.</p> - -<p>"Masefield? I believe it would expedite matters if you would find -Edmund Sponsor in the dormitory and bring him here. Would you do that, -please?"</p> - -<p>Masefield nodded and the screen darkened. The principal turned to us.</p> - -<p>"This incident on the playground which you just witnessed may perhaps -spare us all an overly long explanation. Mr. Sponsor, I have been in -touch with your wife from time to time, and I assume she has kept you -informed on your boy's progress. Or should we say, lack of progress?"</p> - -<p>I felt a sense of numb shock. Celia had told me nothing. I managed to -control my outward signs of surprise. "Yes, she has," I said calmly, -crossing my legs. "But of course we have a fiercely competitive line, -and I haven't been able to follow the situation as well as one might -wish.</p> - -<p>"Would you tell me, in brief, what it all amounts to, and what you -suggest as a remedy? Both Mrs. Sponsor and I are willing and eager to -cooperate."</p> - -<p>"I hope," said the principal, "that you will remember what you have -just said when I propose the remedy. As to the problem itself, I must -put it bluntly—your son Edmund refuses to compete."</p> - -<p>If any other man had said this to me I would have smashed his face in. -Celia looked at me warningly. Again I masked my feelings.</p> - -<p>"This is a terrible thing to hear," I said sweetly. "But surely -it can't be as stark and simple as that. Freddie must be ill or -emotionally disturbed. Have your doctors given him a checkup? Have your -psychoanalysts examined him?"</p> - -<p>"Long ago and continually, Mr. Sponsor. That was your wife's original -suggestion. Your boy was completely uncooperative with the analysts. -Resistant. Negatively competitive, if you know what I mean. In fact, -I will repeat what one of our doctors said. If your boy could reverse -his attitude, and put all the energy he uses to fight the system into -battling his future economic opponents, he'd become a Top Competitor. -However, a year has gone by, and we have not been able to bring about -the slightest change. Now, in fact, the situation has gotten out of -hand."</p> - -<p>"But," I said, trying to sound detached and clinical, "how does this -non-competitiveness, as you say, manifest itself in our son?" The -prefix <i>non</i> had a bitter taste in my mouth.</p> - -<p>"In every way," said the principal. "He won't play competitive games -with the other children. Intellectually, he won't exert himself against -his classmates. Financially, he refuses to earn bonus points selling -magazine subscriptions in his leisure time. This, as you know, goes -against the very principles on which our democracy is based. It's -subversive in its influence on the other children. If he were not so -young, if he did not come from a well-known competitive family, one -would almost be tempted to think Edmund an Australian spy!"</p> - -<p>"Come now!" said Celia indignantly. "Expel Freddie from your school if -you wish, but don't slander him."</p> - -<p>The door buzzed softly, then slid open. Freddie entered, followed -closely by Masefield.</p> - -<p>Freddie had been crying. His eyes opened wide and an expression of joy -hit his face as he saw us.</p> - -<p>"Mother!" he exclaimed, rushing to Celia's arms. She hugged him -fervently. I patted him manfully on the shoulder, but I felt shy and a -little inept. "Dad!" he added, running the back of one hand across his -tear-stained cheeks.</p> - -<p>"How are you, son?" I said inadequately.</p> - -<p>Freddie looked up at me imploringly. "Take me away from here, dad. -<i>Please</i> take me away from here!" He buried his head on Celia's breast -and started to sob.</p> - -<p>"We will, darling," said Celia. We exchanged swift glances.</p> - -<p>"We certainly will, son, if you're unhappy here," I said rather -mechanically. I was, to tell the truth, rather shocked by the emotional -display. Freddie had always been such a self-contained little boy, so -beyond his years in control and understanding, so undemonstrative.</p> - -<p>"I think," said the principal portentously, "that matters would be best -served if Edmund waited outside."</p> - -<p>"I agree." There was no reason for Freddie to hear whatever remained to -be said.</p> - -<p>The kid made quite a fuss about leaving us, even for a few minutes, -but in the end Masefield escorted him out with friendly firmness.</p> - -<p>"We are all in accord then, that your son is to leave Chicago Classical -School?"</p> - -<p>"I think so," said Celia, with unconcealed hostility.</p> - -<p>"What steps do we take now?" I asked more civilly. "Do we enroll him -in the second grade of public school? I mean, is his work here fully -transferable?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The principal seemed to reach very carefully for his next words. -He seemed in fact faintly apprehensive. "Mr. Sponsor, under normal -circumstances a child's credits from Chicago Classical are acceptable -at more than par in the public school system. But this is a case in -which the authorities are obliged to exercise jurisdiction."</p> - -<p>"Just what do you mean by that?" Celia said angrily.</p> - -<p>"Darling," I said patting her hand, "control yourself. Let's try to -hear this thing objectively."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mrs. Sponsor, as your husband has said, this is a matter -which requires considerable detachment. We two have had a number of -conversations in the past year, and I must say candidly that you did -not seem to realize the delicacy and seriousness of Edmund's problem. -By authorities I mean, of course, the juvenile delinquency courts."</p> - -<p>"Now I'm the one who doesn't understand," I said very mildly.</p> - -<p>"You are aware, Mr. Sponsor, that aggressive non-competitiveness is -carried on the statute books as a misdemeanor."</p> - -<p>Scorn and ridicule were in Celia's voice. "But Freddie is a -seven-year-old!"</p> - -<p>"Quite. But our concern as educators is with the future adult. And -unless the child's habits of thought are corrected in the early, -formative years, all of his aberrations are magnified by maturity. -Would you want your son to grow up a criminal, a seditionist?"</p> - -<p>"You need not worry about that," I answered firmly. "I'll take Freddie -in hand. He'll learn the value of competition if I have to beat it into -him!"</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid it's a little too late for that," said the educator. -"School is a powerful influence, but home is the decisive influence in -the molding of a child's character and outlook. The plain and simple -fact is that your home—Edmund's home—has been an <i>anti</i>-competitive -influence! No school can counterbalance it."</p> - -<p>"That's absurd! Do you realize what line of business I'm engaged in?"</p> - -<p>"I'm fully aware of that. However, how much time do you actually spend -with your son, teaching him the precepts of our democracy?"</p> - -<p>"What are you driving at?"</p> - -<p>He had made up his mind to say it. He leaned forward across his -donut-shaped desk and said very deliberately: "When the home fails in -its duty, the state must step in and do the job. We have recommended -that Edmund be placed in our city's Special Training and Re-Education -School, and that he be isolated from all parental influence for a -period of five years. Or until such time as his attitude shall have -displayed a fundamental change."</p> - -<p>Celia was on her feet. "What! You mean we can't see him for five years!"</p> - -<p>I was leaning over his desk, almost yelling. "You are not going to take -our boy away from us. We'll fight it in the courts."</p> - -<p>The principal likewise stood up. He stared at us, disdainful in his -power. "The court has already decided that point. I thought you were -sensible, cooperative people who were willing to fight and sacrifice -for the preservation of Competition. I thought I was doing you a -special favor in giving you a last moment or two with your son. That, -you must understand, went against all rules. I'm sorry now that I -extended you the favor."</p> - -<p>Celia was tearfully, bitterly sarcastic. "You extended us the favor—"</p> - -<p>I was trembling with rage. "We are taking Freddie with us."</p> - -<p>"You can't."</p> - -<p>"You just try to stop me."</p> - -<p>The principal smiled, again disdainfully. "He has already left with the -STARS officer. There is nothing you can do. Except leave my office."</p> - -<p>I was stunned. That blue car we parked next to. I was paralyzed. I -wanted to smash the principal's face—even if it meant going to jail.</p> - -<p>His desk buzzer sounded. He flicked a switch.</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>It was the intercom to the receptionist.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Masefield."</p> - -<p>"Tell him to wait a moment."</p> - -<p>Masefield's voice broke in. "It can't wait. That kid has gotten away -from us! He's locked himself in an aircar. Who owns that Cad Super?"</p> - -<p>I staggered the principal with a straight hard punch in the mouth. I -threw another to his jaw and another in his solar plexus. I leaped onto -his desk and seized him by the throat and battered his head against the -desk top. Then I drove my fist into his face again and again until he -lost consciousness.</p> - -<p>Celia had had the presence of mind to turn off the microphone. I -flicked it on.</p> - -<p>"Masefield?" I was trusting the phone to depersonalize my voice.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"The owner will be right out to open it. Is there anyone by the car -now?"</p> - -<p>"Officer Fegerty."</p> - -<p>"Good. Then the boy can't get away. Come to my office for a minute."</p> - -<p>I kicked at the control panel and ripped out all the wires in sight, -then socked the principal three or four more times for good measure. -We exited as casually as we could, nodding pleasantly as we passed -Masefield in the hall. Then we broke into a frantic run, through the -inner and outer doors, pausing only long enough for Celia to smash the -electric eye mechanism with her purse as the outer door swung shut. -Nicely competitive of her.</p> - -<p>We raced out to the parking lot. The cop was standing beside our car, -and I could see Freddie cowering in the back seat, behind closed -windows and locked doors.</p> - -<p>"Officer Fegerty!" I said breathlessly. "Mr. Masefield says for you to -come to the principal's office immediately! Something's happened."</p> - -<p>He hesitated. "What about the kid?"</p> - -<p>"We'll watch him! You'd better hurry!"</p> - -<p>He headed for the administration building at a lumbering trot.</p> - -<p>We waved wildly to Freddie. He pounced, with uncontrollable joy, on -the door release. Celia plunged into the car, and then I. Out of the -corner of my eye I could see that the policeman had stopped. He was -viewing us with uncertainty. Then he yelled and started to run toward -us, unlimbering his gun from its holster.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>My trembling fingers fitted the key into the ignition. I heard a shot -and a thudding sound. Then another, and a hole appeared in my side and -front windows. I gunned our car like fury and we rocketed into the air -so fast that Celia, holding Freddie tightly in her arms, moaned at the -terrible acceleration.</p> - -<p>We were far above Chicago's islands. Nothing, not even a police car, -could catch our Cad Super.</p> - -<p>I turned to my son. "You're a bright boy, Freddie. I'm proud of you." A -real competitor at heart.</p> - -<p>Then my eye caught the great municipal sign, with its motto I WILL -COMPETE. And I realized for the first time the seriousness of what we -had done.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"The alarm will be out any minute," I told Celia. "I must land."</p> - -<p>I nosed our ship down to the lowest air line, merging with slow local -traffic above the city. For once I was not pleased to be driving such -a conspicuous car. Where to land? Certainly not my usual parking lot. -They'd check there as a matter of routine.</p> - -<p>Celia read my thoughts. "Where would they least expect us?"</p> - -<p>"Navy Pier traffic fines bureau!" I exclaimed. "They have a free -parking lot there."</p> - -<p>"That's good, for the car," said Celia, "but risky for us." She -thought. "The Art Institute. They have a private lot and we're members."</p> - -<p>"Ridiculous!" I started to say, then checked myself. "That's good. -That's cultural. The cops would never think we'd go looking at -pictures."</p> - -<p>There would be people there, a crowd in which we could lose ourselves. -A big building where we could remain all day, if necessary, without -attracting suspicion. A place where I could think. I desperately needed -to think.</p> - -<p>"I don't want to go to the Art Institute," Freddie whined. "I want to -go home."</p> - -<p>Celia tried to comfort him. "Mother wants to go home too, dear one, -but we can't go home just now."</p> - -<p>We sure can't, I thought grimly. I maneuvered past the petal-shaped -peak of Tribune Tower with its banner—100% COMPETITION MEANS 100% -AMERICAN, past the upper stories of the Prudential Building ("WE'RE -COMPETING—ARE YOU?"), past the squat old Bible Federation building -(COMPETER, REMEMBER ST. PETER!), and at last settled with a sigh behind -the museum.</p> - -<p>"I want to go home," Freddie whimpered, his eyes starting to tear -again. He was a thin, rather bony little boy, with light brownish eyes -like Celia's, and a forceful jaw that was quivering now at the point of -a sob.</p> - -<p>Celia caressed his curly brown hair. "We're going to spend the entire -day together, darling. We're going to look at some wonderful pictures."</p> - -<p>I was irritated, but I guess you can't expect too much understanding of -a kid.</p> - -<p>We entered the building from the rear, parking lot entrance. The -Art Institute was one of those wild, non-geometric creations of the -Twenty-first century reconstruction period. It was a flat, one-storied -building. The outside was partially circular, with a pearly transparent -roof. Inside it formed a spiral, with galleries partitioned off like -the chambers of nautilus shell. At the eye of the spiral stood a small -sunken garden and tea room.</p> - -<p>I looked at my watch. Ten-fifteen. "We can stay here until five, if -need be," I told Celia. "Don't leave the building until I return."</p> - -<p>"Where are you going?" Celia was calm outwardly. Only her eyes -registered alarm.</p> - -<p>"To see my lawyer. Then to the office. Then to the bank. I have a hunch -that ten thousand won't be enough for our present needs."</p> - -<p>"Bart, I—"</p> - -<p>"Let's not discuss it now. First I want to find out how we stand -legally."</p> - -<p>I patted Freddie's cheek. "Bye, son. I'll try to get back in time for -lunch with you and mother."</p> - -<p>I strode off, pausing at the main entrance to call the law offices of -Devron, Beach and Feldman. Beach was my man and he was in. I hailed a -coptercab and we lumbered over to the gold-black, ellipsoid Richmond -Building opposite City Hall.</p> - -<p>Beach was a Top Competitor, a slim, trim, fit, fighting individual with -graying black hair, and a smiling suntanned face underscored by hard -lines of determination. He was humorless, busy and abrupt in all his -dealings, but he'd never yet lost a case for me.</p> - -<p>"I have to be in court in ten minutes, Bart. Can you give it to me -briefly?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know if I can. There are so many aspects. To begin with, I -assaulted a man. Knocked him unconscious."</p> - -<p>"Government official? Top Competitor?"</p> - -<p>"No, just a private school principal."</p> - -<p>"Injure him badly?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. He was still out when I left."</p> - -<p>Beach's eyes flickered with surprise.</p> - -<p>"You're not a violent type. He must have provoked you?"</p> - -<p>"Called my son non-competitive."</p> - -<p>Beach dismissed the matter with a gesture. "You've nothing to worry -about." He paused, his shrewd eyes surveying. "Is that all?"</p> - -<p>"Unfortunately not." I was ashamed to tell the whole story, and -I've told Beach some pretty raw ones in the past without flinching. -"In effect, I've defied a court order concerning my son. Obstructed -justice, you might say."</p> - -<p>"Leave the legal definitions to me," said Beach tersely. "Tell me what -you did."</p> - -<p>"Well, the principal was turning my son Freddie over to some guy from -the Special Training and Re-Education School. Without any advance -notice. Just bang! Like that. Called Celia and me in this morning to -tell us. As though it were already an accomplished fact. Well, I knew -it was illegal on his part. Imagine that! Taking a kid away from his -parents for five years! So I snatched up Freddie and left him with -Celia in a safe place and came directly to you. Beach, I want to fight -this. I want you to take a law book and beat the city's brains in!"</p> - -<p>Beach stood up. He would not look me in the eye, but the hard lines on -his face showed up like steel cables.</p> - -<p>"I won't touch the case. You'll have to find someone else."</p> - -<p>A wave of shock and fear surged through my veins. "Beach, you're the -best man in the city! You've got to take it!"</p> - -<p>"I couldn't win. No one could. You're in trouble, Bart. You'd better -hand over your son to the school." He was thinking out loud. "Plead -emotional upset on your part. It's a terrible thing for a father, a Top -Competitor, to be told he has a non-competitive son. You momentarily -lost control of yourself. Bring him to the school voluntarily. Say -you thrashed him within an inch of his life. Say you've been too -busy competing to pay much attention to your son's upbringing. But -now you're turning him over to the school, and you want them to -indoctrinate him thoroughly in the principles of democracy.</p> - -<p>"You'd have a scandal, of course, but people would sympathize with you. -Applaud your resoluteness.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you would get off that way. I still couldn't handle the case, -naturally, but I can recommend someone."</p> - -<p>"Beach," I said firmly, "I won't give the boy up."</p> - -<p>He was silent for a moment. "Then you're ruined. You're a fugitive from -justice. Your only hope is in Australia."</p> - -<p>That was a slap in the face. "Australia!" I shouted. "That crummy -socialist state? That shlub society? No sir, I'm staying right here, in -the free competitive world!"</p> - -<p>Beach looked ostentatiously at his watch. "You'll have to excuse me. -I have a case in court. A murder case, where I can do my client some -good."</p> - -<p>He picked up his briefcase and went to the door, and stood there -courteously showing me out. "I don't imagine I'll be seeing you again, -Bart. Take a lawyer's parting advice. Don't go home. Don't go to your -office. Put your family on the next ship for Australia." He put his -hand on my shoulder, adding, not unkindly, "I also advise you to leave -this building quickly. You realize that I must report you to the -police."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I free-fell down the elevator shaft, stopping at the mezzanine rather -than the ground floor. There was a balcony and staircase overlooking -the main entrance. I could see a policeman loitering at the doorway. I -had no reason to believe Beach had immediately made his report. Even if -he had, was it likely the police could reach the scene sooner than it -took me to drop thirty-eight stories? Nevertheless, there the cop was.</p> - -<p>I went back to the elevator, rode the updraft to the roof landing. A -police ship was idling over the Richmond Building. Coincidence. I saw a -taxi drop his fare only twenty feet away, and I wanted desperately to -hail the cab, but I couldn't take the chance. I remained for a minute -by the doorway. The police ship also lingered.</p> - -<p>I asked a building employe where the freight elevator was. He pointed -the direction, and I stripped off my suit jacket and folded it -around my waist beneath my shirt. Then I rolled up my shirt sleeves -and stepped into the down-shaft. I hit bottom two floors below -street-level. There was a clerk in a receiving room.</p> - -<p>"Has some office furniture come in for 1108?" I asked in a shlub accent.</p> - -<p>"Nothin' yet," said the clerk.</p> - -<p>I thumbed at the doorway. "That the freight tube?"</p> - -<p>"Yup."</p> - -<p>"Maybe they're waiting for me outside?"</p> - -<p>It was a silly thing to say but it gave me the excuse of looking. I -ducked my head out and saw that the dock was empty. There was a rush of -sewer-tainted air, and the hum of the city's subterranean conveyer belt.</p> - -<p>"The idiots!" I exclaimed for the clerk's benefit. "There they are at -the next building."</p> - -<p>I slammed the door and hopped onto the belt which was moving at about -five miles an hour. I jumped off at the next dock we came to, rode the -freight shaft up, then got off at the sixth floor.</p> - -<p>Quickly I rolled down my sleeves, whipped out the jacket from under my -shirt, smoothed down my hair and was presentable again. I walked around -until I found the passenger shaft and descended to the ground level.</p> - -<p>I was more angry than frightened. I a fugitive! A Top Competitor forced -to flee through the city sewers! What a rotten, unjust turn of events.</p> - -<p>What next? I was outside now, on the pedestrian belt moving eastward -toward the lake. Obviously, whatever we did, wherever we went, money -would be necessary. The bank, then. I would draw out my entire account. -A second thought. No, not the entire amount; that might excite -suspicion, cause a spot check with the police. Half would be better—a -hundred and twenty-five thousand.</p> - -<p>I entered the 1st National and went to a counter to write out a check. -A cautioning light suddenly flared in my brain. What if the authorities -had called the bank—frozen my assets?</p> - -<p>There's only one safe way to find out, I thought. I wrote out a -small check to cash—fifty credits. Went to one of the many tellers, -handed it through the cage. I knew, of course, that my picture was -automatically taken as I did so.</p> - -<p>The teller glanced curiously at the check, stamped it, and without -hesitation handed me a fifty credit note.</p> - -<p>I was elated. The bank had not yet been notified. I returned to the -counter and wrote out a check in my own name to one hundred twenty-five -thousand credits.</p> - -<p>I presented it to another teller.</p> - -<p>"Your identification, please?"</p> - -<p>I flashed my wrist band.</p> - -<p>The teller studied the check minutely. "This is a considerable sum. -More than I have at my window. Could you wait for just a moment?" He -picked up his phone.</p> - -<p>A bank guard tapped me on the shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Could you come with me, please."</p> - -<p>My impulse was to run. A paralyzer pistol was sheathed in his wrist -holster. There was no use.</p> - -<p>I followed him to the original teller's window.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry, sir," said the man, "but an estop has been put on this -account. You will have to return the fifty credits."</p> - -<p>"Certainly," I said, hastily whipping out the fifty. I wanted to dash -for the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other teller hang -up his phone and look about urgently. He had not yet seen me.</p> - -<p>"Here is the invalidated check," said the teller. "I suggest you hold -onto it."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," I said, restraining my hand from grabbing. "Guard," I -said, "there's a teller over there motioning for you." I pointed in -the opposite direction from the second teller. "I think it's number 16 -there."</p> - -<p>He went his way. I went my way, as fast as one can in a bank building -without starting a chase. I hurried through the doors, waving -frantically for a coptercab. One descended.</p> - -<p>"Where to?"</p> - -<p>Good question. "Fly me over the islands. I have to kill some time."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We ascended. I could just about read the cabbie's mind. "These damn -Competitors! So busy and so loaded they have to spend money to kill -time." We wafted towards the lakefront. My own thoughts were swirling -chaotically. I felt as though someone had turned off the degravity -device just as I was stepping into the elevator shaft. The rug—no, -the entire floor itself—had been yanked out from under me. I knew now -that I was being pursued systematically. It was not yet noon, not yet -two hours since the event. Already the subtle, confident, overpowering -resources of the state had been brought to bear, narrowing the avenues -of escape, cutting off the criminal's life-line. Yet what had made me -an outlaw? Love of offspring?</p> - -<p>"Do you want me to just keep circling?" said the cabbie.</p> - -<p>I made a quick decision. "Board of Trade Building. I'll show you which -entrance when we get there."</p> - -<p>My office was located there. Undoubtedly it would be under close -watch. Probably Charlie Spacker's was also. But I had to communicate -with Charlie. Had to get some money. Had to arrange to get out of the -country.</p> - -<p>In my mind's eye I could visualize two plainclothesmen seated in the -anteroom of the firm of Sponsor & Spacker, trying to appear like -clients. I could see another detective or two, armed with photograph -and paralyzer, keeping vigilance on the roof landing. A few more -watching the ground level entrance.</p> - -<p>It was hard for me to believe I was that important to the state, worth -a platoon of human blood-hounds. And yet, if the state was doing a -thorough job at all, one had to assume they were there, and at our -home in Mason City, Iowa, and at my club, and at all the space and air -terminals as well. But it did not seem likely to me that a detective -would actually be sitting in my private office, at my desk, waiting for -me to come in through the window. That was the chance I'd have to take.</p> - -<p>We approached the massive Board of Trade Building, which resembled the -glued-together pipes of an antique pipe-organ, and I pointed and said -to the cabbie,</p> - -<p>"See that balcony. Let me off there."</p> - -<p>The driver stared back at me, wide-eyed. "We aren't allowed to do -that, mister."</p> - -<p>"I realize that," I said, handing him a twenty credit note. "But I want -to play a joke on a friend."</p> - -<p>"All right, buddy," he said, maneuvering his copter closer to the -building. "Remember, if you land on the pavement below, I don't offer -any guarantees."</p> - -<p>He hovered stationary beside my balcony and I leaped across the air -space of two or three feet and slipped and clung, and finally scrambled -to safety.</p> - -<p>I could see into my darkened office. It didn't look as if anyone was -there. Then a new problem presented itself. How to open the unbreakable -strontium-alloy window? There was no way at all to do it from the -outside.</p> - -<p>Why hadn't I thought of that!</p> - -<p>I looked down sixty-eight stories, and looked up forty-one stories, and -realized I was trapped.</p> - -<p>Unless I could reach the balcony outside Charlie's office. Oh my God, I -thought—a human fly act! That was ten feet away, and I am six-foot-one -tall. Moreover, the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. And the -face of the building was perfectly smooth. Not a thing to use as a -hand-hold.</p> - -<p>There was another possibility. I took off one of my shoes and hurled -it at Charlie's window. It missed, but fortunately remained on the -balcony. I took off the other one. It struck his window with a dull -clonk.</p> - -<p>If Charlie was out of his office—. Well, I couldn't be any more in a -jam without shoes than with shoes.</p> - -<p>A face appeared at the window. Our secretary Claire. She peered out -for an instant, but the angle was too extreme for her to see me -waving crazily. As she disappeared I let out an anguished shout. She -reappeared, pressed the window lever, and stuck her head outside.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Sponsor!" she said in amazement.</p> - -<p>"Is Spacker there?" I had no time to dwell on the situation.</p> - -<p>"No, Mr. Sponsor, he's still in the pit." A frown crossed her forehead. -"But there are some gentlemen—waiting to see you."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know about them. Now, Claire. Come into my office through the -adjoining door and open this window. And first please reach out and get -my shoes."</p> - -<p>She smiled, and I too had to see the humor.</p> - -<p>Claire was a pretty-faced brunette with ultra-fair complexion and a -tendency towards overweight which kept her eating prescriptions instead -of meals. She couldn't compete with our robot steno, but customers like -to deal with a human being. And she was loyal.</p> - -<p>She let me in and handed me my shoes.</p> - -<p>I sat down, put them on. "Those men outside are not to know I'm here." -This was the real test of her loyalty.</p> - -<p>Claire nodded tersely. She was not a dumb girl.</p> - -<p>"I'm in serious trouble, Claire. The less you know about it the better, -but it's all tied up with the crisis on Venus. Were you able to book -passage for me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you've a reservation on the midnight rocket."</p> - -<p>"Good! When's your lunch hour?"</p> - -<p>"I'm on it now, Mr. Sponsor."</p> - -<p>"Will you do me a tremendous favor, Claire? I know it's an imposition, -but it's quite urgent. Would you go down to the Venus Spaceship Line -and pick up that ticket for me? And while you're at it, get two more -tickets on the same ship, but separated from me. Do you understand? -Have them bill us as usual."</p> - -<p>"Under what name, Mr. Sponsor?" She was a canny girl.</p> - -<p>"Leave all three open under our company name." This wasn't much better -than 'Mr. & Mrs. Bart Sponsor & Son', but it left us some leeway to -juggle identities. Perhaps trade tickets with three shlubs at the last -minute. "I hope you don't mind this imposition." I added.</p> - -<p>"I'll be very glad to do this for you, Mr. Sponsor." She hesitated. "Do -you want me to bring the tickets back to the office? What should I do -with them if you've left in the meantime?"</p> - -<p>These were knowledgeable questions. How much did she already know? Was -Claire really loyal, or was she planning already to tip off the police? -Have them trail me, trap Celia and Freddie as well? That was one of -those unavoidable risks.</p> - -<p>"Mmm. Good question, Claire. Leave them in an envelope at the mail desk -of the Conrad-Palmer Hotel ... under my name."</p> - -<p>Hell, I thought. If she's going to betray me, the name won't make any -difference. Otherwise, I'll need my own name for identification, in -order to pick up the envelope.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They had not gotten around to examining my personal files. The drawers -were still locked, and my slim, antique missile-gun was still filed -under "W" (for weapon). I slipped it into my pocket and began rifling -through my papers. I had never, to be truthful, expected to be in a -situation as bad as this. But Top Competitors have to be prepared for -some rough tactics.</p> - -<p>Under "I" was a set of false identity papers. Under "S" was a sleep -bomb—strenuously outlawed in private hands. Under "B" were various -blackmail letters, including one I secretly held over Spacker. I looked -hopefully under "M" for money, but there my foresight had failed me. It -had never occurred to me that a man with a quarter of a million in the -bank, and three times as much in securities, would some day need money.</p> - -<p>I did find something under "M" that made me pause. Mendelsohn. It was -a yellowed old folder, certainly the oldest in the entire file. My -thoughts suddenly swirled back to college days. This was a project we -had worked up together, when Solly was still hot on soil chemistry, and -I hadn't settled on anything definite except somehow making a fortune. -This was a technique for creating tillable topsoil out of solid rock in -ten short years. About a million times faster than nature could do it, -but who wanted to wait ten years?</p> - -<p>Not I, at least. And when I, who was to do the selling, cooled off on -the idea, Solly lost interest too.</p> - -<p>Intriguing, though. Maybe Solly would like it back. Maybe the poor -shlub could use it on Primus Gladus. I began stuffing things in my -briefcase.</p> - -<p>Charlie Spacker returned. I could hear him enter the adjoining office. -I gave him time to settle down at his desk, then made my appearance.</p> - -<p>"Bart!" He was genuinely startled. Charlie was a heavy-set, muscular -man with deep resonant voice, short-cut wiry hair, and ruggedly -sculptured Roman features. He was a good bargainer by instinct, a rough -competitor within established ground rules, but weak on the frontiers, -slow to assimilate new ideas, fearful of decisions.</p> - -<p>"You've been a long time in returning, Charlie. I've waited here almost -an hour. The gentlemen outside are growing impatient."</p> - -<p>Charlie was confused. "They know you're here?"</p> - -<p>"How do you think I got in? Through the window?"</p> - -<p>"But I thought you were in serious trouble. Beach called and said—"</p> - -<p>"I know all about that. Beach is behind the time, and he's not getting -any more of our business, do you understand?" I had been speaking -harshly. Now I fell into the familiar friendly vein. "Charlie, this -is the situation. I came within an inch of getting my head chopped -off. But I spoke to the Central Committeeman, and the matter's being -straightened out."</p> - -<p>I paced the office casually. "It's costing me money, of course. A cool -half-million."</p> - -<p>Charlie's eyes grew to the first magnitude. "Canopus! Have you got that -much?"</p> - -<p>"Not quite. Not in cash, anyway. There are some securities I can't put -on the market right now. So I'm a hundred thousand short. Which isn't -so much, actually."</p> - -<p>I had to make this sound completely nonchalant. "I thought I'd borrow -it from the business for thirty days. I assume that's all right with -you?"</p> - -<p>Spacker is no fool either. He hesitated. "Well sure, Bart, if we have -it. But you know, with this Venus crisis we're running pretty close."</p> - -<p>I exploded. "What do you mean, 'if we have it'! Our assets top thirty -million."</p> - -<p>"You weren't in the pit this morning, Bart. The way Venus commodities -are going, we'll be damn lucky to cover our commitments."</p> - -<p>"<i>That</i> bad? Well, it's a good thing I'm leaving for Venus tonight." I -paused. "All right, Charlie, then make me a personal loan."</p> - -<p>"I'd be glad to, Bart. But ... considering the circumstances, how can I -be sure you'll come back from Venus?" Spacker was shrewd.</p> - -<p>"Don't be absurd, Charlie." I tried to make light of his bullseye. "If -that bothers you, I'll give you two-for-one in government series R as -collateral."</p> - -<p>Spacker shook his head. "If something should go wrong with this deal -you've made, then the government will be able to reclaim them as -forfeit. And I'll be out a hundred thousand."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I was swallowing the humiliation, frustrated with a rage that I had to -conceal. I was furious at his lack of trust, and chagrined that he was -so well justified.</p> - -<p>"All right, Charlie," I said cordially. "I'm a little hurt by your -suspiciousness, but you have me at a disadvantage. I need the money. I -suppose I could raise it some other way, but then that would delay my -departure for Venus. And you know that our mutual welfare is tied up -with the trip.</p> - -<p>"If so many things worry you about this personal transaction, let me -put your mind at ease. I'll sign over my equity in the business as -security for the loan. Is that good enough?"</p> - -<p>Charlie was now his best competitive self. "Look at it from my point -of view, Bart. If you didn't return, the business would become all -mine anyway. Isn't that right?" A bland look of innocence spread over -his face, a mask concealing the saturnine smile. "Bart, I suggest you -delay your trip for a day or so. Raise the money some other way."</p> - -<p>I held back long enough to believe my ears. Then I drew my gun. "You -bastard!"</p> - -<p>"You can't force me to sign! I'd repudiate it by phone the minute you -left!"</p> - -<p>"I'll kill you!"</p> - -<p>"That won't get you the money. You'll rot in the slave-mines of -Mercury!"</p> - -<p>True. A feeling of fatalism swept over me like ocean surf. I opened -Spacker's door and called out to the detectives:</p> - -<p>"If you gentlemen will step in here, we've just received word of Mr. -Sponsor's whereabouts."</p> - -<p>Then I stepped back behind the door jamb, leveling the gun at Spacker. -He knew I meant silence. He knew I would kill.</p> - -<p>The detectives entered. I jumped behind them. "Raise your hands!"</p> - -<p>They complied.</p> - -<p>"You too, Spacker. Now, the three of you turn your backs to me and walk -to the wall. Keep those hands high!"</p> - -<p>I opened my briefcase with one hand, withdrew the sleep bomb, hurled -it at their feet. The detectives knew what it was after one gasp, and -tried to hold their breath. But one gasp is enough. They crumpled to -the floor, unconscious. I closed Spacker's door and hung up the 'Do Not -Disturb' sign.</p> - -<p>Our robot secretary was taking a flurry of phone messages. I waited -patiently in the anteroom till Claire returned.</p> - -<p>"Here they are," she said soberly, handing me the envelope. "Three -berths on the <i>Sophocles</i>."</p> - -<p>"That's wonderful, Claire! Thanks a lot. By the way, you'll notice that -those gentlemen have left. The matter is all straightened out."</p> - -<p>A smile wreathed her face. "I'm very happy for you, Mr. Sponsor."</p> - -<p>"In celebration, you know what we're going to do? We're going to give -you the rest of the day off!"</p> - -<p>She was enthralled. I waited until five minutes after she'd left, then -walked briskly to the down-shaft.</p> - -<p>I had to assume there were detectives posted at the main floor -entrance. And on the roof. And even perhaps in the freight entrance. I -got off on the second floor.</p> - -<p>I walked down the corridor, studying the signs on doorways. There was a -market research firm, Mechlen Drew Inc., that occupied a large suite, -with several labeled doors. I opened one that said 'Employes' and found -myself in a room with a medium-sized computer and several preoccupied -mathematicians.</p> - -<p>I went directly and purposefully to the window, opened it, and -calculated the distance to ground level. Twelve feet maybe. The -employes looked at me with faint interest. Someone from the building -maintenance department, probably.</p> - -<p>For a minute or two I watched the pedestrians glide by on the conveyer -belt. I saw no evidence of the police.</p> - -<p>"I think I'll have to examine this from the outside," I said to the -employes. "Will one of you close the window after me?"</p> - -<p>I got out on the sill, eased my body down, hung by my fingertips for a -moment, then let go. I could see a puzzled expression at the window as -I glided away and became lost in pedestrian cross-traffic.</p> - -<p>In a mood of self-congratulation, I headed for the Art Institute. The -mood vanished as I passed the first newsstand. Boldly on its display -screen was a front page story about the fugitive Sponsor family. There -were pictures, of course. They didn't have a very good one of Celia. -College graduation shot. She had nothing to worry about. The photo of -Freddie was better, but the city is full of skinny seven-year-olds with -sensitive features. No great risk of recognition there.</p> - -<p>But the one of me! A perfect likeness. Repeated on an endless number -of newsstands between the Board of Trade Building and the museum. The -large, oval-shaped bald head, shorn of all but a trace of sideburns. -The straight, prominent nose with flaring nostrils. The large, sensual -lips. The hard-clamped jaw.</p> - -<p>Thanking Zeus for Chicago's anonymous millions, I entered the quietly -thronged Art Institute.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Celia and Freddie were looking at paintings of the Prismatic school, -without much enthusiasm, when I found them. Their greeting made me feel -like a hero.</p> - -<p>"Daddy!" said Freddie, hitting my leg joyfully as Celia embraced me -with a passionate kiss.</p> - -<p>"It's one-thirty," said Celia softly, achingly. "We were so worried."</p> - -<p>"Let's go eat," I suggested, suddenly aware of hunger pangs.</p> - -<p>"We already have, but it'll be much nicer this time."</p> - -<p>We went to the tea room. Alongside was the sunken garden, with its -dwarf trees and moist green grass and bubbling waterfall. Three or four -pieces of ancient sculpture—smooth white marble of the Greeks—stood -in the garden on pedestals. Somehow these had survived the destruction.</p> - -<p>"Nothing else remained of the whole collection," said Celia sadly. -"Renoirs, Rembrandts, Raphaels—all, all gone."</p> - -<p>"I'm tired, mommy. Why can't we go home now?"</p> - -<p>"After a while, dear. Poor kid! He's weary of looking at pictures, and -so am I."</p> - -<p>"Freddie," I asked, "why didn't you like to play games with the other -children at school?" Celia glanced at me disapprovingly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I like to play games. But ... it just seems that when everyone's -trying so hard to win ... it spoils the fun. You know."</p> - -<p>"Leave him alone, Bart."</p> - -<p>I finished my ersatz soup and my synthetic sandwich, and drank down a -cup of chemical coffee, and felt much better.</p> - -<p>Freddie napped on one of the garden benches, and that was a good thing -for him and for us. We had to talk, weigh alternatives, make plans.</p> - -<p>"The real crisis," I said, "is at five o'clock when this place closes. -Then we have to get into our ship and fly somewhere. Wherever we go -there'll be police looking for a green Cad Super with Iowa license -plates."</p> - -<p>"We have one advantage at that time," said Celia. "Rush hour. If you -can stay in the thick of traffic ... and not hedge-hop."</p> - -<p>"Don't worry!"</p> - -<p>"The real crisis, I think, is when we board the Venus ship," said -Celia. "The police will be watching all departures, checking -identities, just as a matter of routine."</p> - -<p>"That's true, but we don't go aboard as a threesome. You and Freddie -earlier. And I at the last minute, with false identity papers."</p> - -<p>Celia shook her head as if warding off an unpleasant thought. "Aren't -you afraid that when Spacker wakes up he'll tell them about the Venus -ship?"</p> - -<p>"According to my information, the sleep bomb knocks you out for ten or -eleven hours. A doctor can bring you out of it a little sooner, but you -still don't regain your full senses right away."</p> - -<p>"Even allowing ten hours, Bart. One and ten is eleven. Our ship leaves -at twelve o'clock. That means we face one hour of supreme risk."</p> - -<p>She was right, of course. And there was one more source of anxiety that -I thought it best not to mention. Claire. What would Claire say if she -found out about the sleep bomb? If she went back to the office for -any reason this afternoon? Or if the police found out in some manner? -Surely they would go looking for the detectives. Surely they would -question Claire. What would she tell them?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Five o'clock. Exit separately through the rear door to the parking lot.</p> - -<p>First Celia, walking briskly, with keys to the car in her gloved hand. -Unaware how I stare at her handsome figure, voluptuous movements of hip -and thigh. How akin the awareness of danger and awareness of sex!</p> - -<p>She opens the car door, turns the ignition key, idles the engine.</p> - -<p>Next, Freddie, as well coached as possible. Unhurried, lackadaisical. -Taking a slow, wandering path, oblivious of the peril, curious about -the other cars, taking his time.</p> - -<p>He reaches our car and Celia scoops him up, and I see him clamber over -the front seat and bury himself in the back.</p> - -<p>Then I, striding heavily, hastily. Briefcase in hand. Looking neither -right nor left. Lowering chin almost onto chest. Waiting for a voice -behind me. Expecting a shout: 'Wait! Stop!'</p> - -<p>I reach our car, jump in, slam the door, open the throttle. We ascend. -Circle into the lowest, slowest, most congested local traffic lane, -westward bound over Chicago.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I didn't much like Celia's suggestion. But I couldn't think of a better -one. And we had to spend the next five or six hours somewhere.</p> - -<p>"So why not the Mendelsohns?" said Celia. "It's a little early for -their party, but I'm sure we'll be welcome."</p> - -<p>"All right. But we've got to keep quiet about our ... troubles. I don't -want that shlub to have the last laugh on me."</p> - -<p>It was an evening in early fall, and the sun was setting, but not fast -enough for my comfort. I craved the protection of darkness. We already -had passed two police cars headed eastward, and each time I cringed -helplessly, and Celia and Freddie ducked down out of sight. Possibly -the red sunset tones were falsifying the green of our car. Otherwise, I -can't see how they overlooked us.</p> - -<p>Traffic was starting to thin out as we arrived over the Mendota -district of Chicago. This was kind of a marginal area—no longer -desirable, not yet slum—where respectable poor people maintained some -semblance of pride in their old dilapidated solar-heated homes. It was -an area so thick with grime and industrial soot, that I had a hard -time making out the roof markers from two-hundred feet. The glass and -concrete dwellings were universally alike in pattern, a hollow square -with patio in the center. Yet despite the general poverty below, I -failed to see a single house that didn't have a rattletrap aircar of -some kind parked in the rear. All except the Mendelsohn house. The -Mendelsohns never owned a car. They had turned their backyard into a -vegetable garden.</p> - -<p>"Think they'll mind if I land there?"</p> - -<p>"Not when they're leaving tomorrow."</p> - -<p>I landed gently, nevertheless. Solly was sensitive about plants.</p> - -<p>I think they were really astonished to see us. The girls ran into each -other's embrace with squeals of recognition. Solly and I shook hands -with a good deal more restraint. Dolores was tossling Freddie's hair. -Then we went into their house.</p> - -<p>It was pretty bare, of course. They had packed most of their things; -probably had them stored aboard ship by now. But there was enough -furniture left that went with the house for us to sit down on.</p> - -<p>"How wonderful! How wonderful of you to come and see us!" said Dolores. -She was a tall, dark, big breasted girl with classical features in the -Byzantine sense. Her hair was black, her movements languid, her voice -deep and melodius.</p> - -<p>"We couldn't see you go to the stars without saying goodbye," said -Celia.</p> - -<p>"We talked about you so often," Dolly said. "Wondering how you were. -What you were doing."</p> - -<p>I found it hard to imagine this exotic, beautiful woman transplanted to -an alien world in the role of pioneer farmgirl.</p> - -<p>"We've thought about you too," said Celia. "So many times."</p> - -<p>It was awkward. Solly and I hadn't exchanged more than five words.</p> - -<p>"Would you like some refreshments?" said Dolly. "Drinks? Something to -eat?" She smiled at me and smiled at Freddie, and nodded yes until -Freddie nodded with her.</p> - -<p>"Sure you do," she said.</p> - -<p>We laughed. Dolly stood up. "We weren't expecting our guests for -another hour, but everything's ready."</p> - -<p>She and Celia and Freddie went into the kitchen.</p> - -<p>I hated to be left alone with Solly, and I suppose the feeling was -reciprocal.</p> - -<p>"Are you glad to be going?" I inquired neutrally.</p> - -<p>"Very."</p> - -<p>"How long does it take to get there?"</p> - -<p>"Two and a half years."</p> - -<p>"That's a long time!"</p> - -<p>"Not considering the distance. Primus Gladus is nine-tenths of a -light-year away."</p> - -<p>"Funny," I said, "a star being that close, undiscovered until this -century."</p> - -<p>"It's not a bright star. Half the luminosity of our sun. For all we -know, there may be others just as close." Solly meditated on the idea.</p> - -<p>"I suppose that's possible," I said. "Must be thousands of stars in the -southern skies—faint stars, I mean—that haven't been measured."</p> - -<p>We were both silent. There seemed nothing further to say. The distance -was as far between us as between Sol and Primus Gladus. I fumbled in my -briefcase.</p> - -<p>"This is something that may interest you, Solly." I handed him the -folder containing his topsoil project. "Found it in my file just this -afternoon. Thought maybe you could use it where you're going."</p> - -<p>He looked at it. His forehead wrinkled in a frown.</p> - -<p>"Remember?" I cued him. "College days?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A light came into his eyes from a source thousands of light-years away. -"Oh yes," he uttered slowly, a faint smile touching the corners of his -mouth. "That was our big business venture. The Topsoil Initiator." He -looked at me peculiarly. "Bart, how come you kept it all these years?"</p> - -<p>"I always thought it was a good idea." This was not a lie. "But why," I -said, "haven't <i>you</i> done anything with it?"</p> - -<p>"O-o-o-oh," he drawled, "no drive, I guess. The real reason, I guess, -is that I never had enough money to buy a barren, rocky acre where I -could give it a practical tryout."</p> - -<p>"Ten years seems like such a long time to wait for results," I said.</p> - -<p>Solly reflected with that faint remembering smile on his lips. "It did -then."</p> - -<p>The girls returned with food and drink, and somehow Solly and I had -warmed up over the topsoil recollection, and we all became quite gay -and animated and loud-talking, and I suppose it was a little like old -times.</p> - -<p>Then a little while later Celia took her purse in the other room, and -when she came out she handed Dolores an envelope.</p> - -<p>I knew what was in it, and I wanted to shout, 'My God, don't do it! -That's all the money we have in the world!' But I couldn't get the -words out, and Celia said:</p> - -<p>"Dolly, here is something for you from us. It's a going-away present. -We want you to have it before the others come."</p> - -<p>"How nice," said Dolly. "What can it be?"</p> - -<p>She opened the envelope, and a mixed expression played across her -face—delight and dismay.</p> - -<p>"Why, it's money!... A lot of money!... Thousands!"</p> - -<p>She turned her head away in reluctance, then handed back the envelope.</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, Celia. We couldn't accept it."</p> - -<p>Celia refused to take it back. "Oh now, Dolly," she snapped, "don't be -stuffy and proud and stupid! We have millions. We <i>want</i> you to have -it. You certainly need it; you can't deny that. So please accept it and -make us happy."</p> - -<p>"It's wonderful of you both," said Solly. "But you know how it is. We -just can't."</p> - -<p>"We just can't," repeated Dolly.</p> - -<p>"Oh please, please," cried Celia, and she was really getting emotional. -"Don't you realize. This is the last time we'll ever see you! You're -going to a far-away world, our two dearest friends. And this may -seem like a lot of money, but it really isn't. It's all the gifts -and presents we would give you in a lifetime, rolled up into one. -It's funny little baby clothes when your children are born. It's -anniversary gifts. It's for your boy's bar mitzvah and your daughter's -confirmation. It's wedding presents when they grow up. It's—it's -funeral wreaths!"</p> - -<p>Celia started to cry, and Dolly started to cry, and they hugged each -other and started to cry even more, and the tears rolled down their -cheeks. And the tears rolled down my cheeks, and Solly's too, I guess, -and we shook hands very solemnly. And Celia stuffed the envelope -into Dolly's hand. And then all of us really cut loose and bawled—I -covering my face with my hands, and Solly burying his face in a -handkerchief. Only Freddie wasn't crying at first. He was just standing -there looking bewildered. And then he got scared and started to cry -too, hanging onto my pants leg with one hand, and trying to reach Celia -with the other.</p> - -<p>And then, thank God, the first guests arrived, ringing the bell, so -that we had a compelling reason to stop.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The party was still going strong when we left at eleven. Solly and -Dolly walked us out to our car. There really wasn't much left to say. -We had found each other in friendship again, and would never again be -nearer than nine-tenths of a light-year.</p> - -<p>"A pity!" said Solly, and I knew what he meant.</p> - -<p>The evening was very cool. Celia began to shiver. We took off, and the -cabin heater warmed up the thermometer, but still we felt cold. Freddie -sat in the front seat between us, dozing lightly.</p> - -<p>Our Cad Super roared through the night. Even at full power, Spaceport, -Nevada, was thirty minutes away. The moon set rapidly. The night grew -darker.</p> - -<p>"I fear that we will be caught," said Celia tonelessly, like a voice -dissociated from body.</p> - -<p>Our ship's nose wavered slowly between Procyon and Pollux, Canis Minor -and Gemini, back and forth, droning on in the blackness.</p> - -<p>"I fear for our little boy," said Celia like a soul lost in a maze of -warped space. "What will they do to him?"</p> - -<p>"They'll never lay hands on him," I said softly.</p> - -<p>The Serpent writhed and Charioteer rocked as Twins dueled the Crab and -Hunter pursued Bull.</p> - -<p>"That was a fine gesture you made," Celia whispered.</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"Giving them the money. I'm proud of you."</p> - -<p>The lights of Spaceport glowed on the horizon. It was a vast complex -of launching sites, covering a hundred square miles. But only one -ship could blast off at a time, and that ship would be flooded by -searchlights. I singled out the Venus rocket and we descended.</p> - -<p>It was eleven-thirty-two. I handed Celia her two tickets.</p> - -<p>As we approached the Venus compound I could see several police cars -parked on the field. Passengers seemed to be leaving rather than -entering the ship. The gangway was crowded with people pouring out of -the spacelock.</p> - -<p>"They're looking for us," I muttered.</p> - -<p>"Is that why they're all getting off?" said Celia.</p> - -<p>"They must be shaking down the entire ship."</p> - -<p>"This is the moment I feared." She tightened her grip on Freddie.</p> - -<p>"There must be a way of getting aboard!" I said.</p> - -<p>We edged forward to the gates of the field.</p> - -<p>"There is no way of getting aboard," said Celia. Her voice was -hopeless. She motioned at a large bulletin board.</p> - -<p>The sign read: VENUS FLIGHTS CANCELLED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE BECAUSE -OF CIVIL DISORDERS ON THAT PLANET.</p> - -<p>I was weary and defeated, but I said, "Honey, we're not licked. We can -still go to Australia."</p> - -<p>"I have a better idea," Celia exclaimed. It was as though a new current -of life, a new gusher of hope, had burst through the surface. "Let's go -to Primus Gladus!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was four in the morning. We had told Solly and Dolly the straight -story.</p> - -<p>"Do you think we can get a berth on the ship?" my wife queried -anxiously. "Is there any way you can help us?"</p> - -<p>The Mendelsohns exchanged glances.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said Solly. "Truthfully. Let me think about it a few -minutes."</p> - -<p>"Since you've told us the truth about yourselves," said Dolly, "do you -mind hearing some things you don't know about us?"</p> - -<p>"All cards might as well be face up," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Well listen, you two. It isn't easy to emigrate to another system. If -you're a shlub, yes. But not if you're a soil chemist, or any other -kind of scientist or advanced technician. Earth won't let the boys -with know-how get out of its clutches." Dolly's eyes were burning with -a message she only half-dared to communicate. "Does this give you any -clues?" she asked, eagerly scanning our faces.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the parts fit perfectly. "Solly! You did it deliberately. You -washed out of school! You let your career fall to pieces. On purpose!"</p> - -<p>Solly was nodding and smiling rather grimly.</p> - -<p>"But why?" I demanded. "You had such brilliant prospects here on -Earth. Why did you do it?"</p> - -<p>"Surely you of all people must know by now," said Dolly excitedly. -"Can you and your family go on living in this kind of a world? Can you -endure this police-state tyranny now that you know what it is? Can you -accept the hypocrisy, the masquerade behind pious slogans? What is -this thing they call Competition? Is it really good? Is it really the -expression of democracy? Is it what they want or is it forced on them?"</p> - -<p>"Dolly, you're asking more questions than you're answering," said -Celia, trying to head her off.</p> - -<p>"Or is it organized greed? Simple dog-eat-dog? The law of jungle -cunning and brute force re-affirmed? If we must compete, let it not be -as maggots swarming over a half-eaten pie! Let's get people to vie with -one another in service to mankind!"</p> - -<p>Dolly had worked herself into a kind of evangelical zeal, with Solly -nodding hypnotically in agreement.</p> - -<p>I answered calmly, trying not to strain our newly healed friendship. -"I don't go along with you on some of the things you say, Dolly. I -personally think competition is the mainspring of progress—"</p> - -<p>Solly started to protest.</p> - -<p>"—material progress," I added.</p> - -<p>"Well, maybe," said Celia, and in a flash I could see what had gone -wrong with Freddie's home-life, from the school principal's point of -view. "But I can't see what competitiveness has to do with creative -art, or the pure sciences, or philosophy. I think it's positively -destructive in those areas. The real struggle there is internal, not -external. To me, competition is only a part of life not the whole of -it."</p> - -<p>"You're all wrong!" I shouted. "My only concern is with the welfare -of Freddie. That's what got us into this predicament. I want you to -understand that I'm for the system ninety-five per cent!"</p> - -<p>Solly, Dolly, and Celia smiled. That irritated me but I let the matter -drop.</p> - -<p>"Let's consider what's to be done," I said.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Solly very seriously. "I can tell you this about the -star-ship. On a voyage of two and a half years, nothing can be done -haphazardly, at the last minute. Every berth has to be accounted for -long in advance. Our baggage has been calculated down to the last -ounce. The number of farming implements, the number of livestock—even -the number of children you may have en route!—are strictly allocated."</p> - -<p>"In other words, the only way we can get aboard is if someone dies or -doesn't show up at the last minute?" said Celia.</p> - -<p>"Or if you can persuade someone not to make the trip."</p> - -<p>"And in addition get by the police," I added softly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At seven that morning the airbus stopped to pick up the Mendelsohns -and their hand luggage. We had worked out some kind of half-baked plan -that I didn't think would go over with the ship's officials. We set a -rendezvous time and place and waved them off. Then we got into our Cad -Super. For the second time it bore us west to Spaceport.</p> - -<p>As we neared the field, Celia commented, "You know, darling, this car -is pretty conspicuous in the daytime."</p> - -<p>"I'm hungry, mommy," said Freddie who had missed out on breakfast -altogether. Celia gave him a soggy hors d'oeuvre, which was all that -was left from the Mendelsohn's party.</p> - -<p>I had been thinking about what to do with our expensive car. I brought -it down almost a mile from the star-ship <i>Pericles</i>.</p> - -<p>"You two will have to walk the rest of the way," I said cheerily. "I'll -meet you at our rendezvous point in about twenty-five minutes."</p> - -<p>The time was now seven-thirty. The ship blasted off at nine. I put -our car in a steep climb and circled the field at an altitude of ten -thousand feet, where I could see which of the many spaceships were -loading passengers.</p> - -<p>I chose one ship arbitrarily at the opposite end of the field from -the star-ship. It turned out to be an Asteroid surveyor, paying its -way with a hundred or so passengers to Ganymede. I set down in the -adjoining lot, and fixed the degravity controls so that the ship -hovered a few inches off the ground, and left it that way to drift -across the field with the wind until it attracted the inevitable -attention.</p> - -<p>I walked to the next shuttle bus stop and rode across to the -<i>Pericles</i>. It was a gigantic ship, twenty times the capacity of a -Venus or Mars rocket. Comet-shaped, engineered to approach fifty -per cent of the speed of light through cumulative acceleration, the -star-ship had two vast cargo entrances in addition to the passenger -airlock. In one, which was now closing, I caught sight of crated farm -machinery. Into the other, herds of cattle were being driven.</p> - -<p>It was nearly eight o'clock. I approached the <i>Pericles</i> warily. We -were all supposed to meet by the livestock gate. Dozens of people were -milling about, some ranchers, some colonizers, bargaining at the last -minute over a sheep or a goat or a horse or a cow to replace a dead or -sick animal. That some of the men were detectives I did not doubt. I -saw Celia close to the entrance with Freddie. We exchanged glances of -recognition, but kept widely separated.</p> - -<p>Solly came up. "I checked with the captain about Dolly and me waiving -our right to have a child during the voyage, and taking Freddie with us -instead. You were right. He wouldn't buy it."</p> - -<p>"That was tremendously generous of you even to offer."</p> - -<p>"But," said Solly, "there's been one cancellation!"</p> - -<p>Our eyes met. "What's the fare?" I inquired.</p> - -<p>"Two thousand." Solly looked down for a moment, then threw back his -head. "Look, that's still your money, even if you did give it to us. -Dolly and I are willing ... would be happy to pay Freddie's fare. And -take care of him as our own if you and Celia can't get on."</p> - -<p>"My son has no future on Earth," I said. "If Celia's willing, I am. Go -talk to her."</p> - -<p>Solly went to Celia. She did not once look in my direction and I was -glad. In the end, Freddie went with Solly, and I could tell what the -lie was. Solly was going to show Freddie the insides of the wonderful -ship.</p> - -<p>It was a quarter after eight. Only forty-five minutes before take-off. -Celia and I were going to be left behind. There didn't seem much reason -for further pretense. I took my wife's hand.</p> - -<p>"Little did we know how important your going-away present would be. -Solly used two thousand of it to pay Freddie's fare."</p> - -<p>Celia shook her head. "He didn't have to do that."</p> - -<p>"Sweetheart, all we have left is about a hundred and fifty credits."</p> - -<p>"That may be all <i>you</i> have left," she said proudly, "but that isn't -all <i>we</i> have left. If my addition is correct, we have ninety thousand -cash credits in my purse, right at this minute!"</p> - -<p>"What! How do you mean?"</p> - -<p>Celia put her arm in mine. "I played a dirty trick on you, darling. You -signed and I added another zero."</p> - -<p>"You took out a hundred thousand! No wonder that teller made such a -fuss."</p> - -<p>"Dear, I thought you might have to use a little bribery. I knew Freddie -was in trouble, and that was my fault, of course. I'm the villain in -his home-life!" She smiled ruefully, then looked at the <i>Pericles</i>, her -eyes brimming with tears. "But I had no idea they'd try to take him -away from us!"</p> - -<p>My thoughts pulsed wildly. "Look, Celia! We can both get aboard! -Give me the money!" I took her purse and ran over to the huddle of -colonizers.</p> - -<p>"I've got ninety-thousand cash credits! Who'll give up his place on the -<i>Pericles</i>?"</p> - -<p>The group turned to face me in astonishment. One man came forward. I -thought I saw a gun hidden in his sleeve. "Ninety thousand?"</p> - -<p>"That's right. Who wants it?"</p> - -<p>"Ninety thousand is a small fortune," said the man. "Anyone with that -kind of money shouldn't need to pull up stakes on Earth and start life -all over again on a new planet. Should he?"</p> - -<p>"I don't imagine so. Who'll take ninety thousand for his place on the -<i>Pericles</i>?" I repeated over his shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Unless he has some special, very compelling reason for leaving Earth," -the stranger continued.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A colonizer ran up breathlessly. "Ninety thousand? Let me see it!"</p> - -<p>I opened the purse, pulled out the wad of bills, and flung the purse on -the ground.</p> - -<p>The colonizer riffed through the wad. "That's for me! I'll take it!"</p> - -<p>He reached for the money.</p> - -<p>"Just a minute," I said. "It's yours after you give that lady over -there your berth and make it legal with the ship."</p> - -<p>"Hey," said a companion, "how about all your belongings? Your cattle -and equipment? You haven't time any more to take it off."</p> - -<p>"Heck, my whole outfit isn't worth more than fifteen thousand! I'll -give it to the lady."</p> - -<p>He ran to Celia and the two of them dashed for the passenger ramp. It -was eight-thirty-five. Twenty-five minutes before take-off.</p> - -<p>I put the money in my coat pocket.</p> - -<p>"I don't think," said the stranger, "that this transaction is going -through." He stepped so close we were almost jaw to jaw. "Let me see -your identity tag."</p> - -<p>"Who are you trying to impersonate?" I said.</p> - -<p>"A common ordinary rancher," he replied, flashing his badge. "Now let's -see your identification."</p> - -<p>"Certainly." I showed him my false wrist tag.</p> - -<p>"Donald Simpson, I see." He stared at me through narrowed eyes. "Where -did you find that, Mr. Sponsor?"</p> - -<p>"Sponsor? Is that the guy you're looking for? I have about a dozen -other documents to prove I'm Simpson. If you have the patience to look -at them."</p> - -<p>I opened the briefcase and handed him the packet. They had cost me -thousands and they were awfully good forgeries. They slowed the -detective down quite a bit.</p> - -<p>"Why are you offering that kind of money to get the lady on board?"</p> - -<p>"Because I'm awfully anxious to get rid of her."</p> - -<p>"You didn't happen to put a kid aboard that ship too, for the same -reason?"</p> - -<p>"If you think I did, why don't you go look?"</p> - -<p>"I may do that, mister. You know, we can hold this ship on the field -for an hour or more if we think it would prove profitable."</p> - -<p>I saw Celia waving from the passenger gangway, and the colonizer come -sprinting our way.</p> - -<p>"It's done!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "Let's have the money."</p> - -<p>I reached into my pocket.</p> - -<p>The detective laid his hand on my arm. "I said I didn't think this -transaction was going through." He turned to the colonizer. "You'd -better switch things back to the way they were."</p> - -<p>"No," I said, pressing the gun through my coat pocket into the belly of -the detective, "don't pay any attention to this character." I crossed -over with my other hand and withdrew the money.</p> - -<p>"Take this," I said to the colonizer, "and get out of here. Fast as you -can!"</p> - -<p>He was confused but not on basic things. He took his money and -virtually ran.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes to nine.</p> - -<p>They were closing up the passenger airlock, removing the ramp.</p> - -<p>"You know," said the detective very quietly, "my buddy is coming. He -won't understand this embrace we're in. I'm quite sure he won't like it -one bit."</p> - -<p>The last of the animals were being led into the livestock hold. The -ranchers were dispersing. The colonizers were all aboard. We stood -virtually alone beside the ship.</p> - -<p>"I am prepared to be killed," I said, "and to take you with me in the -process."</p> - -<p>A police car hovered in the air beside us.</p> - -<p>"Say!" yelled its pilot. "They've found the Sponsor car over next to -the Asteroid surveyor!" He pointed across the field. "They're searching -the ship. We've got to help. Hop on!"</p> - -<p>I stepped back, with my hand still in my pocket.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said, "hop on!"</p> - -<p>The detective clambered aboard the police car. He gave me a look that -I'll always remember. A sort of sneer and a sort of smile. "Good luck, -Simpson," he said.</p> - -<p>The police car whisked away.</p> - -<p>Five minutes to nine.</p> - -<p>I wheeled and ran to the livestock hold. The hatch was about shut and I -knew it was too late. 'Goodbye, my darlings! Goodbye!'</p> - -<p>Then the hatch jammed and could not close the last six inches and I saw -the reason. A steer had broken loose and charged the door. His head was -caught in the opening. His neck had snapped instantly and he was dead.</p> - -<p>They re-opened the hatch long enough to fling the thousand-pound -carcass onto the field. And that was all the time I needed to come -aboard.</p> - -<p>A crew member hollered at me: "Do you belong here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied, "I certainly do."</p> - -<p>As I said it, the ship blasted heavenward and I was flung to the -deck. I started to curse, and then I chuckled. I was stretched out -ignominiously beside a cow in the fresh-smelling hay.</p> - -<p>I, Bart Sponsor, Top Competitor, starting a new life. This way!</p> - -<p><i>Well Solly</i>, I mused, <i>understand the planet we're going to has lots -of rocky acres.</i></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMPETE OR DIE! ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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