Consolator Steen pursed his lips. "I tell you what I'm going to do
about it. I'm going straight back to the office and sit and think, and
think, and then think some more. Krieg's got a good fifty years ahead
of him yet, and that means I've got exactly that long to guess what's
on his mind. I'll get that quintillion credits if it's the last thing I
do."
* * * * *
They had no more than reached the gate when one of the mechanical
Guardians appeared from behind a bush, chortled to itself and scurried
over to the bench. It cleansed the rough-hewn stone, then washed the
path the two men had taken. Then, its exceptional chores accomplished,
it went back to its normal pursuits.
It approached a bed of begonias nearby. One appendage extended itself
and began digging up the dirt around the plants. Meanwhile, inside the
machine, other appendages ripped open a small bag and spilled the fine
dust inside the bag into a small trough. The empty bag was rolled up
and stuck in a disposal bin along with several other bags, all with
identical markings:
JOSEPH KRIEG AND SONS,
BY APPOINTMENT,
PURVEYORS OF FINE
FERTILIZERS
TO THE GALACTIC GOVERNMENT
ON EARTH
The machine clucked quietly to itself as it sprinkled the dust evenly
over the black, yielding earth. It patted the fertilizer gently into
the rich soil, making sure that each plant got its fair share. Then it
scurried off silently to tend to a bed of calla lilies nearby.