"Underneath the bottom floor of that building are the bodies of many
millions more, Joseph, just as there are bodies under all of our
buildings. Bodies of those wealthy few who could afford to escape
cremation and find surcease of life in the loamy substance of the Earth
itself. I shudder to tell you how tightly packed they are, of the
skin-tight coffins which we had to devise, of the geometrical tricks
involved in jamming as many bodies as possible in the least amount of
space. And yet, it _is_ burial, and it is _in_ the Earth itself. No
granite monuments, of course, no vases of flowers, no green grass. Just
a perpetual flame burning in the main lobby of the building, and a
micro-film file available somewhere listing the vital statistics of all
those souls whose remains lie in the basement--or below."
Krieg's face was furrowed with a heavy frown. Steen's words had been
as shocking to the man as Steen had hoped they would be. "But the
Parks...."
"Ah, yes, Joseph. The Parks...." Consolator Steen leaned forward
slightly. The fish was sniffing at the bait quite properly now. "Our
Parks, which are the one remaining link with the past. Those green and
grassy meadows in the midst of our metallic forests. The last places
on Earth where you can be buried out in the open, with flowers over
your head and birds singing above. You want to be buried in one of the
Parks, don't you Joseph?" When the man nodded briefly, Steen continued.
"Which Park, Joseph?"
"Manhattan...."
Steen drew himself up with a sudden, silent movement. The fish had
taken a good look at the bait. Now to remove it from sight for a while.
Steen closed his eyes briefly, then raised a hand as if to brush away
a sudden tear. "I'm sorry, Joe. Very sorry indeed. I was afraid that
was what you wanted, and yet, there was always...." He blinked his
eyes. "Manhattan Park is impossible, Joe. Confucius Park in Hong Kong,
perhaps. I think there are still same plots available in Frogner Park
in Oslo. I'm certain that we could get you into Amundsen Park at the
South Pole. But Manhattan.... No, Joe. That's one dream I'm afraid
you'll just have to give up."
"Why?" Joseph Krieg asked quietly but determinedly.
"Have you ever seen it, Joe? I thought not. It's perhaps the most
beautiful part of this most beautiful planet in the Galaxy. Would you
like to see Manhattan?"
_Manhattan._ Steen was quite aware that to Joseph Krieg this was a
word of a hundred thousand associations, each of them connected with
love, security, devotion and repose. It was like asking a starving man
if he would care for something to eat.
Steen did not even wait for a reply. "I think it could be managed, as a
special favor. Permission to enter Manhattan Park is difficult to get,
you know, but I think this once...." Steen turned to Braun. "Put a call
through to the President's office...."
* * * * *
Atop grassy knolls, supple willows trailed languid branches to the
ground. Silver-throated birds sang secret melodies while bees hummed
a scarcely audible background. Narrow graveled paths wound through
this gentle landscape, now hugging the edge of a tinkling stream, now
plunging through carpets of gorgeous flowers. The three men sat silent
on a rough stone bench observing the pastoral scene.
Finally Consolator Steen spoke softly. "I understand how you feel,
Joe. The first time any of us sees it, we are afflicted with silence.
Its beauty is almost painful, the memories it invokes almost beyond
bearing. Lincoln is buried there, just beyond that hillock; Landowski
not far from him. Shakespeare's grave is there to the right, and close
by is the body of Sharon, the poet of the Galaxy. Einstein's final
resting place is a mile or so away, and near to it you'll find Chi Wan,
who gave us Stardrive. Humanity's Valhalla, Joe."
Joseph Krieg had not cried openly since childhood, and yet now there
were tears in his eyes. "This has always been my dream...."
Consolator Steen placed a friendly arm around the man's shoulders.
"Yes, now you have seen it. Your dream has come true." He paused for
just a moment, then said, "And now, Joe, perhaps we had better go."
Joseph Krieg turned towards the man with an abrupt motion. "Go? Why
should we go? We've been here scarcely ten minutes."
"Because the longer you stay, the harder it will be for you to leave,
Joe. And the less attractive the other parks will seem to you. So, I'd
like for us to leave at once." His voice became businesslike. "First,
I'd like to show you Hong Kong, and then...."
"I don't want to see Hong Kong, or any place else. This is where I want
to be buried, Steen. Whatever the price is, I'll pay."
Consolator Steen sighed deeply. "I don't think you understand, Joe.
It isn't a matter of price. Manhattan is simply not available to you,
for the reason that it is not for sale. I know that you have heard
otherwise; I am sure that rumors have reached your ears that burial
in Manhattan could be effected for a mere trillion credits. But these
fantastic tales are incorrect--for two reasons.
"The first reason, Joe, is a financial one. To the average man, a mere
million credits is such a gigantic, unobtainable sum that he is sure
anything in the Galaxy could be obtained for a trillion. This is not
so, as you and I both know. Why, a million credits will scarcely get
you a burial in a two-inch-square cube in the bottom floor of one of
our huge buildings. Remember? I called those huge bargain basements
'pauper's fields.' And that they are--available to those poor people
throughout the Universe who have only a few millions to their names.
Incredible, isn't it?
"A trillion credits? Why, it takes a hundred billion to make you
eligible for burial _under_ one of the buildings, where you're packed
in like a sardine with millions of other bodies. And how many people
in the Galaxy can lay their hands on a hundred billion credits? The
answer, Joe, is too many people indeed. Some of them have so much more
money than that, they can actually afford to be buried in one of the
Parks.
"A trillion credits? Yes, that will get you buried in Hong Kong Park,
or in Frogner, or Amundsen. But not for long. You can rent a temporary
grave in Hong Kong, for example, for a mere billion credits a day. At
that rate, for a trillion credits, you'd stay buried on Earth for less
than three years, and then your body would have to be moved elsewhere.
Very few people can afford to purchase a permanent plot in one of
these parks. But they are available--at a cost of something like one
quadrillion credits. And just how many men in the Galaxy _have_ a
quadrillion credits or so?"
Consolator Steen knew the answer to this question exactly--he also knew
that Joseph Krieg was one of these men. Krieg could have afforded a
quadrillion credits, but it would have exhausted his fortune. Steen
waited until he was sure that the other man was deep in mental turmoil
and then he continued, his voice now softer, less commercial sounding.
"And having given you 'the prices,' so to speak, of the lesser
treasures, I will now surprise you by saying that the entry ticket to
Manhattan Park is free."
Joseph Krieg looked at the man intently, a curious fire of hope in his
eyes. "Free?"
Steen nodded. "And because it is free, it is unobtainable. It is not
generally known, Joe, but the only way one can be buried in Manhattan
Park is by permission of the Galactic Congress. Only certified heroes
are so honored, and they are few and far between. Remember the great
bacteriologist Manuel de Artega? It took the Galactic Congress more
than fifty years of debate after he died to decide to let him in--but
after all, the only claim to fame he had was that he saved a few
trillion lives from the Green Plague. He was buried here some thirteen
years ago. There has been no one since, and no one in sight."
Steen patted the man on the shoulder. "Now, come along, Joe. I want you
to take a look at Amundsen Park before you make up your mind. It's not
at all cold at the Pole these days--lovely flowers, trees...."
"No!" Joseph Krieg cried, standing up. Steen and Braun both rose too.
"There must be a way!"
The Consolator smiled inwardly. _The fish was responding
magnificently. Now to push the bait just a little closer...._
"Now, now, Joe. You mustn't get upset about this. The other Parks are
just as fine, I assure you," Steen murmured in consolation.
Krieg shook his head. "You can't tell me that sometime or other someone
didn't buy his way into Manhattan. It stands to reason...."
"Now, Joe. You're taking this much too hard...."
"I tell you, I know people. And that's all the Galactic Congress is
made up of--people. Tell me the truth, Steen. Has anyone ever bribed
his way into this Park?"
Steen frowned and turned his head slightly away from the man. _Just a
flick or two more of the line...._
* * * * *
"I wish you wouldn't ask me questions like that, Joe. When I say
that it's impossible, I mean just that. You'll just excite yourself
needlessly by listening to foolish rumors...."
Krieg pounced on the word jubilantly. "What do you mean, rumors? Then
there _has_ been someone who bought his way in! Who was it, Steen? I
swear, if you don't tell me, I'll move heaven and earth to find out."
Consolator Steen seemed to consider for a moment, then sighed.
_Hooked._ "All right, Joe. But believe me, you'll wish you hadn't
asked. For what happened to ... to this other person is unattainable to
you."
"Who was it?" Krieg asked excitedly.
"Who was the richest man who ever lived, Joe?"
"You mean...."
"Who was it that founded the University you went to, the hospital in
which you were born? Who gave a magnificent library to every city in
the known universe, who was it...."