"By the uniform?" He raised his eyes again to look at hers.
"By everything." The smile faded, replaced by a look of sober gravity.
Questions raced through Herl's mind: who she was; what the cloud was;
what she knew about him; even what she was wearing, for the cloud
thickened near the shoulder and neck and he could glimpse only a few
shining strands of waving amber hair through the concealing haze.
"You may ask me," she said.
"Ask you what?" he returned, surprised.
"Any of those questions. I will tell you."
Crawford's door opened and the receptionist came toward them. One
thought rose imperatively in Herl's mind.
"Will you be here when I come out?"
"No."
He grasped his case and got up. He could see now that she was literally
wearing nothing but the half-concealing haze that left her slim legs
and bare feet visible. "Will I ... can I ... see you again?"
"Yes."
Herl turned his head toward the receptionist.
"Commissioner Crawford can see you now," she smirked.
He looked back to ask the vision when and how he would find her but the
chair was as empty as when he came out of the office.
* * * * *
Confused, like a man suddenly awakened from a fascinating dream, Herl
walked after the receptionist through the outer door and to the inner
one. She returned to her switchboard and he went on toward the door,
which slid into the wall at his approach. He gave his head a quick
clearing shake and looked inside the long, austere, uncarpeted office,
with its one window at the far end.
Directly ahead of him was a group of men sitting on both sides of
a long conference table ... little men, serious-faced, important,
earnest. At the far end, a man faced him ... a small, pleasant, but
harried-looking middle-aged man, almost bald. Herl identified his
outline against the window as that of Commissioner Crawford of the
vizor call.
"Come in, Captain Hofner," the Commissioner invited cordially.
Herl did so and looked curiously at the sober faces of the men at the
table while the door slid shut behind him.
"Come and sit down," Crawford indicated with his palm the empty chair
at Herl's end of the table. His voice was still mellow and cordial. "We
are all ready to discuss your officers and see your samples. You will
find that we are accustomed to doing business promptly on Delight ...
an agreeable feature of our culture, I think you'll find."
Herl smiled, pulled out the heavy chair and sat, pulling it back to the
table as he did so. Promptness would indeed be an agreeable feature
after those deaf mutes. He put his case upon the table.
"I didn't bring the tapes and films with me from the ship, gentlemen,"
he apologized. "They seem to have exceeded the weight limit which I
could bring into town without special permission. I suppose I shall
have to have all these papers approved before I can show you what
we have to sell." He opened the case and slipped out the stack of
applications. "However, I can make a preliminary survey of your needs
and what you have that you'd like an extra-planetary market for." He
reached into his jacket pocket for stilo and pad.
A bell sounded beyond the door, which opened; and the receptionist
stuck her head into the room.
"Miss Haulwell, would you be good enough to get a special messenger to
take these papers around to the proper offices and get 'em stamped?"
Crawford gestured to the stack. He scribbled on a pad by his hand, tore
off the sheet and held it out. "This will give my authorization for
complete clearance."
The shapeless Miss Haulwell came meekly around the table and took
the note, then returned to the other end to pick up the pile of
applications, handling them almost reverently. "Yes, Commissioner. Will
there be anything else, Commissioner?"
"No, not at the moment."
She retreated silently to her anteroom and the door closed.
Just as the door clicked shut, Herl saw the golden haze thickening
slowly behind the seated Crawford ... thickening and then fading to
nothing as if a cloud had changed its mind about coming into being.
Staring beyond the man, Herl missed the beginning of the sentence, but
picked it up before the meaning was lost.
"... have been discussing some of the things we need. We'd be
interested in seeing any electronic calculating equipment developed in
the last eighty years. And our requirements for reducing and storing
records, particularly photographic records, have so far exceeded our
production of file and development chemicals that we are definitely
in the market for such ... or any different improved methods. That's
right, isn't it, Mr. Jerrip? (Mr. Jerrip is our Commissioner of
Records.)"
A man down the table on Herl's left nodded agreement. "Exactly right,
Mr. Commissioner." His tone was most respectful.
Herl made a note on his pad. "Those are some of the most popular
numbers in our new listing. What next?"
"Well, we've been discussing the matter of permitting the use of
plastic housing materials and if we can come to some agreement, we may
be in the market for some plastic formulae and construction plans."
One of the men on Hofner's right grunted an objection.
"Housing Commissioner Ferguson, here, feels that as long as we can
continue to supply the expressed demand, there is no need to plan any
expansion."
Herl nodded agreeably toward Ferguson and suggested, "Since delivery
on heavy items like hot molds for plastics can't be guaranteed in less
than ten earth years, you might like to see what we have and reconsider
your needs in terms of the next fifty. Our department is trying to get
us sears-monkeys around more often than that, but we can't be sure of
doing it unless planet-hopping becomes a lot more popular with the boys
of the galaxy."
Ferguson grunted again. "In fifty years we probably won't need anything
but barracks for Eyefers."
Most of the men at the table laughed, a little self-consciously, it
seemed to Herl.
"How about those Eyefers?" Herl opened tentatively. "I don't quite
understand about them but I gather they're something of a drag on your
culture. We have a number of vacant planets. Would you be interested
in sending off a gang of them to colonize? Would they be interested in
going?"
* * * * *
A tall man next to Ferguson spoke to Crawford. "How about it, Bert? My
household would get along more smoothly with about six less mouths to
feed and six less backs to cover."
A fat bearded man directly on Herl's left shook his head rapidly
several times. "No, no, no, no!"
Crawford spoke noncommittally. "Commissioner Guildris of Health and
Welfare objects."
Guildris stood up. "I certainly do. Not only are the Eyefers hardly
competent to colonize anything, but the whole success of our cultural
and genetic experiment hinges on their being here among us as an
example of what we must avoid if we are to succeed as a race!" He sat
down, plumph, on the air-cushion of his chair.
Crawford turned to Herl. "I can explain about the Eyefers while we are
waiting for your things from the ship," he assured Herl. "They are
really quite important in our scheme of things, as Guildris says."
Herl was startled. "You mean you're sending somebody for my things?" he
wanted to know.
"Certainly, if you like. If you don't trust a man to get them, I'll go
along with you and we can talk then."
Herl relaxed. "There may be a good many things you'll be interested in
when you see the pictures," he said.
The members of the group suddenly seemed a little tense.
"For instance," Herl looked round the ring of faces so sober and
intent, "how about entertainment and entertainers? There are nightclub
bleepers, and grand opera troupes, carnivals, dancers, magicians, and
bocko teams, theatrical companies, acrobats, and several thousand
individual artists of various talents ... all good, or Galactic
Coordination wouldn't be listing them. What's your preference,
gentlemen?"
Commissioner Guildris rose again, a heavy frown on his heavy features.
Looks of disapproval were obvious on several other faces also, although
one or two commissioners raised their eyebrows questioningly at
Crawford.
"I would not presume, Captain Hofner," Guildris stated, "to condemn
light entertainment for the peoples of the galaxy. It is, however,
an occupation from which we have been able to shield our people for
the time being. We have our own approved methods of relaxation and of
temporary escape from the pressures of daily living; but these are
mostly in the nature of solitary meditation and mechanical music."
Herl winced inwardly. These people would have been better approached
by a non-humanoid robot than a red-blooded terran boy. Six feet six of
healthy hungry handsome salesman was wasted here. And Guildris would
hardly go off on an extended sermon to a machine.
But a human audience was fair game for the paunchy commissioner. "The
danger to our citizens, you understand, is not in escapism, even though
that may have its own dangers. It is in the approval and possible
emulation of individuals ... individuals who, though talented, might
not be truly fitted for survival here. We cannot tolerate ... I repeat,
we cannot tolerate public distress and public pressure when a public
figure fails in his civic duties. Entertainers would be loved. The
public would want to forgive them their lapses. This we cannot have."
Herl glanced with a ghost of a smile at one of the men who had raised
his eyebrows at Crawford. "No dancers?" he said.
"No dancers," Crawford replied firmly, without giving the other a
chance to answer.
Herl returned equally firmly to his task. "And how do you plan to pay
for what you buy ... by Galactic Credits ... by man hours of assigned
labor ... or by barter? In other words, what do you want to sell among
the stars?"
A suave looking man with oily hair and an oilier manner looked at
Crawford. "May I, Mr. Commissioner?"
Crawford nodded. "Mr. Applegate, Commissioner of Raw Materials (and
that includes labor of course) will answer that."
Applegate turned to smirk at Herl.
"We have on Delight, Captain Hofner, a rich supply of natural
fuels, several strains of high-oxygen producing plants, and a most
remunerative taxation system. We can sell or barter or even pay for our
few needs, whichever proves most satisfactory to Galactic Coordination.
We have an untapped reservoir of unskilled labor in our Eyefers, whom
we have heretofore avoided exploiting but whom we can use if it seems
desirable for the good of our planet. Does that answer your question?"
Herl nodded, surprised that such a prosperous people hadn't gone
straight to Coordination for what they wanted years before.
Guildris of Health and Welfare added, "We are most fortunate in being
a completely self-sustaining planet. In our abundance of natural foods
and textile rawstuffs, we are probably capable of supporting twice our
present numbers. That is why we are able to make progress with the
great genetic experiment now in progress here. Because it works actual
hardship on no one!" he added proudly.
Herl looked at Crawford. "I suppose this experiment will be one of the
things you'll tell me about when we go to get my things?"
"Of course," blandly.
"Another matter you might be considering while we are getting the tapes
and films," Herl offered, "is transport. Have you enough home-owned
space tonnage to carry your exports and imports; or would you be
interested in purchase, rental, or simple contract for haulage? You
will get your orders much more quickly, I hardly have to tell you, if
you use your own ships; but there are a number of haulage companies
around the galaxy which would be very glad of your business. And if
you cared to send a representative to the nearest coordination center,
he could bring you our listings every couple of earth years and return
with your orders, so that you could be in much closer touch with what
the galaxy has to offer in the way of raw materials, manufactured
goods, technological advance, and markets." Herl looked inquiringly
around the table.
The rotund Guildris stood up again. "I believe I may speak for all of
us when I say that we are not overly anxious for increased contact
with the galaxy at this point in our social development. A great deal
of thought by some of our wisest men," he bowed to his colleagues
pompously, "has been expended on making Delight a self-sufficient
independent unit for the most worthy of purposes, the eventual
improvement of our race. In a few more generations, we may have
something to offer the galaxy ... not to sell but to offer to the need
of all other planets ... a strain of _homo sapiens_ so selected as to
be a hardy, keen, responsible and intelligent race of administrators
and leaders of the galaxy. Because we have dedicated ourselves to
this purpose, we must necessarily cut ourselves off from the pleasant
interdependence of thriving trade until we are ready to market the
noble fruits of our projected garden."
Guildris remained standing a moment, while a gentle handclapping from
both sides of the table indicated that his remarks were, indeed, the
opinion of all those present.
Herl kept a grave face with the greatest effort. Going to run the
galaxy in a few generations, were they? These little two-for-a-credit
bureaucrats? Wanted a few little calculators to make themselves the
final bosses of everything. He had seen a giant calculator ... an
electronic multi-brain, with fifty men coding information for it,
preparatory to making the selection of a minor planetary economic
advisor. It would be an interesting day when these little men came to
Earth to take over. All this flashed through his mind while Crawford
was rising to his feet.
"We shall be perfectly satisfied," said Crawford genially, "to have
delivery of our small order made by any means you care to contract:
but as you have heard, we are not interested in opening up Delight as
a trade center, so we have no need for regular shipping service. Now
I don't want to take these gentlemen's time with discussion of things
they already know," he looked around the table, "so if that's all we
can do now, I propose that we disband and meet again at sundown. That
will give us two hours to go out to the ship and back. Are there any
objections?"
The men were rising from their chairs.
Herl said, almost plaintively, "Doesn't anybody eat around here?
Couldn't we add time for a meal?"
Crawford laughed. "I forgot you didn't have your ration card yet. Make
that time one hour dark. If your papers aren't cleared yet, I'll stand
you to a meal."
Herl stood also, and the men filed past him, shaking his hand as
they went. Six commissioners who had not spoken during the meeting
added their names and positions. The last to go was a Commissioner
of Psychology and Psychiatry, to whom Herl said, "I'd like to see
you before I leave here, Commissioner. I think I've been having
hallucinations."
The man halted, still holding Herl's hand. "What sort of visions, my
boy?"
Herl grinned. "A pretty girl in a golden fog. Probably just the result
of months alone in a space ship."
The man sighed, relieved. "Oh, just a goddess. A local phenomenon.
Think nothing more of it. Commissioner Crawford will tell you all
about that, too." He followed the others out.
A local phenomenon! Maybe that girl was the 'noble fruit' Guildris was
talking about. If so, these people might have something after all.