"Speaking of coordinates," Grampa said briskly, "make sure we got the
coordinates of Fweepland. It'll take a long time for that atmosphere to
dissipate. A nice little world like that is worth its weight in uranium
to a good real estate salesman."
"How did you do it?" Joyce challenged.
Grampa slapped her familiarly on the shoulder. "A problem of gravity,"
he said gayly, "but a simple one. Nothing for an old pircuit man like
me. I guess you folks won't laugh at Grampa and his pircuits any more.
Not only did Grampa get you out of Fweepland, but he's taking you back
with a valuable little subdivision in the third quadrant to file on."
"I hate to spoil the party," Fred said, "but have you thought about
what you're going to do with Fweep?"
"Fweep?" Grampa repeated, puzzled. "Why should I do anything with
Fweep?"
"We can't take him back to Earth with us."
"Why not?" Grampa demanded.
"In the first place, the Immigration Authority would have to pass on
him. That might take years, with Fweep's powers and abilities. More
important, if Fweep got loose on Earth, every flivver would have the
same problem there that we had here. And next time Fweep might not be
so cooperative. I don't know what you did to Fweep in there, but if
he's still alive, the I.A. isn't going to take a chance."
Grampa considered the prospect without dismay. "I wonder if we could
smuggle him in. With all those flivvers not working, they'd have to pay
us before they could take off."
"Grampa!" Fred said sternly. "That would be blackmail--or worse.
Besides getting in trouble with the I.A., you'd get it from the W.B.I.
and the I.C.C."
* * * * *
Grampa waved his hand impatiently. "We'll solve that problem when we
come to it. After all, an old pircuit man like me--"
"What _did_ you _do_ to Fweep?" Joyce repeated insistently.
Grampa cleared his throat with pride. "Well, now, I'll tell you. I
just happened to notice that Fweep liked my tonic. Every time I took a
little nip, the little beast was around my chair, trying to clean my
hand for me."
"Tonic!" Joyce sniffed. "Liquor, you mean!"
"Now that's not right," Grampa objected. "I said tonic and I mean
tonic. Got a little alcohol in it for a preservative, maybe, but the
important part is the minerals. That's the Longevity Institute's
secret. It's what keeps me young. Want a little nip?" He leered at
Joyce.
"You mean you got Fweep drunk?" Fred exclaimed.
"Well, now, that was the _effect_, but I can't swear it was the
alcohol. Not unless Fweep can use the stuff on the molecular level if
he wants. On the other hand, maybe it was the minerals in there that
affected him. Little world like Fweepland, maybe it lacked a few
things when it was made. But the way I looked at it, it stood to reason
the little fellow could use a drink. Alone all these centuries, he
must've got pretty dry. But whatever it was, he sure got high. Lost all
control."
"Poor Fweep," Reba murmured.
"Poor nothing," Grampa said. "He was the happiest little critter I ever
saw. When Four explained to him just what we wanted, he went right to
work on that bottle and--"
Gramp's door swung open once more. "Grampa! Grampa!" Four shouted.
"Fweep! He--I mean--well, we've been calling him by the wrong pronoun.
Look!"
Four came running out of the room. Behind him rolled a tiny raspberry
sphere about the size of a marble. Occasionally it hopped in the air
and said, "Fweep?" in a small, high voice.
Behind it rolled and hopped a second raspberry marble. "Fweep?" it
said. Behind it came another and another until the cabin was full of
them, rolling, bouncing, calling "Fweep?"
* * * * *
Dazedly, Junior counted them. "One hundred and one, one hundred and
two, one hundred and--"
"Oh, Junior," Reba said, hugging him excitedly. "Aren't they cute?"
"What happened?" Grampa asked, as dazed as Junior.
"Maybe it was the tonic," Four said, "but I suspect it was the the
unpolarized gravity. All of a sudden, Fweep started splitting like an
amoeba, over and over. Do you suppose that was what made him nervous?"
"That's the way the little fellow reproduces, all right," said Grampa.
"I wonder if he has to wait until a race becomes civilized enough to
discover the polarizer, eh?"
"Ugh!" gasped Joyce, brushing a Fweep out of her lap.
Grampa looked at the cabin and its occupants happily.
"I'd like to remind you," Fred said gravely, "that this multiplies our
problem of what to do with Fweep over one hundred times."
"What problem?" asked Grampa. "The only problem we got is how we're
gonna spend the cash. We're in business--the gravity business. We'll
call it Gravity, Incorporated, and we can reclaim every little hunk of
rock in the Solar System. Each one of those little fellows is worth
a fortune! We'll give the satellites and the asteroids Earth-normal
gravities and atmospheres and, by golly, we're rich!"
"Rich?" Joyce echoed. A smile slowly replaced the expression of
distaste. She snapped her fingers. "Here, Fweepie," she said in her
most enticing tone. "Here, little darlings! Come to dear Joyce!"
But they had all hopped to Four and were clustered around him like a
raspberry bubble bath. Through them, his face peered, thin and happy.
Grampa looked at Reba. She was hugging Junior happily and smiling at
Four. Grampa looked back at the boy.
"We'll have to be exclusive, though," Grampa said. "Considering the
Fweeps' likes and dislikes, that is. We'll sell only to people with
children."