[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine August 1960.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Giving Certain Powers the business for a change
would be a joy--but it must not backfire--and
here at last was the perfect recoilless diddle!
In 1962, the United States Air Force found itself possessed of a
formidable tool of battle, a radar resistant airplane. While this was
the occasion for much rejoicing among the Defense Department members
who were cleared for Top Secret, this national-defense solution merely
posed a greater problem: What should we do with it?
"There must," said the Secretary of Defense, "be some utilization of
this new device to demonstrate to 'Certain Powers' that the world can
be made safe for Freedom and Democracy!"
"'Certain Powers,' my foot," said the President. "Why don't we ever
come out and just say it?"
"Policy," the Secretary said. "We've always walked softly in our
Foreign Policy; especially softly in cases where we didn't have the
'big stick' to carry."
"Well," grumbled the President, "we've got the big stick now. What do
we do with it?"
"We just want to shake it a bit," said the Secretary. "No contusions
intended, of course. We just have to let them know we _have_ it, but
are too kind-hearted to use it. Unless provoked, naturally."
"I can see," said the President, "that this new plane is burning a hole
in your pocket. Suppose we do send it flying over Rus--"
"_Mister_ President!" said the Secretary of Defense.
The President sighed. "All right, all right. Flying over 'Certain
Areas,' then. Let's say we get it there. Fine. What do we do with it?
Drop leaflets?"
"No. That comes under the proselytizing clause in the Geneva Conference
of '59."
"I don't suppose a small--well, you know."
"Aggression," said the Secretary. "We'd lose face in the Middle East."
"So?" demanded the President, spreading his hands. "They don't like us
anyhow, do they? Or the competition--or each other, for that matter."
"That's not the point. We have to _feel_ as though our dollars are
buying friends, whether or not it's true."
"Well, then, what _can_ we do?" said the President. "No leaflets, no
aggression. We couldn't maybe seed their clouds and make it rain on
them?"
"And get sued by other countries for artificially creating low-pressure
conditions that, they could claim, robbed them of their rightful
rainfall? We've had it happen right here between our own states."
"Maybe we should just forget about it, then?"
"Never! It must be demonstrated to the world that--"
"We could take a full-page ad in the New York _Times_."
"It just isn't done that way," the Secretary protested.
"Why not? It'd save money, wouldn't it? A simple ad like, '_Hey, there,
Certain Powers! Lookie what we got!_' What'd be wrong with that?"
"They'd accuse us of Capitalistic Propaganda, that's what! And to get
the egg off our face, we'd have to demonstrate the plane and--"
"And be right back where we are now," the President realized aloud,
nodding gloomily. "Okay, so what do we do?"
The Secretary looked to left and right, although they were alone
together in a soundproofed, heavily guarded room, before replying.
"We drop an agent!" he whispered.
<tb>
The President blinked twice before responding. "Have you gone mad?
What man in his right mind would volunteer for such a thing? 'Drop
an agent,' indeed! Ten minutes after landing, he'd be up against a
wall and shot. Wouldn't _that_ be lovely for Freedom and Democracy?
We'd have the R--the Certain Powers gloating over the air waves for
weeks about nipping a Capitalist Assassination Plot in the bud, not
to mention the Mothers of America beating down the White House door
because one of Our Boys was sacrificed. You know how our country
reacts: If an entire division is wiped out, we bite the bullet and
erect statues and make speeches and then forget it. But let a single
man get in dutch and the whole populace goes crazy until something is
'done' about it. No, it won't work."
"May I finish?" said the Secretary patiently.