"Don't you want a chicken farm? I am building one on a planet I own."
A groan came over the 'phone, lasting long enough to cost Gramenger &
Lewis a credit and a half.
"Dad won't send them. I know. It's hare brained. No one's ever tried to
raise chickens any place except on Earth."
"That isn't the point," he said. "Send the wire."
"All right," she said in a small voice.
"Furthermore," he added, "inform your father this is a business
venture. I shall keep him supplied, as middleman, with a new breed of
Plymouth Rocks which are considerably larger than turkeys, are more
succulent, more tasty and tender, lay larger eggs with possibly larger
yolks--"
"How?"
"I have some knowledge of biology and pressure chemistry, Anna.
Plymouth will be ideal."
"What's Plymouth?"
"The name of the planet."
Harvey cocked his ear at the silence. Then there were sounds of
sniffles. "I have to take care of a registration, Harvey," Anna said.
"I have to go. I'm very proud that you love me, Harvey. I'll wait for
you. And I'll convince Dad. Goodbye."
"Goodbye," said Harvey. He hung up. "She misses me," he told Gramenger.
"Poor girl. Would you like me to take the ten thousand credits in cash
or as a check?"
"A check," said Gramenger. He wrote it out. Harvey took it, and started
toward the door. He called back:
"Thanks for the use of your 'phone," and walked out. Gramenger had
nothing to say.
* * * * *
Harvey went back to Plymouth some two weeks later. He now owned a much
larger ship. It was crammed to the brim with chemical fertilizers to
improve the soil. There were also seed grains such as oats, wheat and
corn. There was lumber for building, plumbing fixtures, windows, doors,
everything needed to build several sheds plus a long, low rambling
ranch-type house. The hens and the cock were aboard. There were six men
also who would do the building, and help in any other way necessary.
Plymouth was a beautiful, emerald planet as they hove in close to it.
As they landed, a pleasant, sunny atmosphere swirled around the ship.
The gravitic machinery kept the gravity at Earth normal. The ground
was already thawed, and was surprisingly like the rich, life-filled
loam found in Iowa cow country. An engineer was waiting for Harvey,
showed him the gravitic controls, explained the planet had been moved
a million miles out of its orbit so that the _Hermes_ could plow past
without harming it.
By shutting off gravitic energy from one side, he explained, pressing
buttons on the control panel, the planet could be made to move in any
direction.
Furthermore, the gravitation could be raised or lowered at will, on all
of the planetoid or on any small portion of it.
"Fine, fine," said Harvey, much pleased. Before the engineer took off
Harvey promised him several large Plymouth Rocks before Thanksgiving,
and as an afterthought took a numerological reading on his name. Then
he instantly started in to work.
The house went up. Saws whined. Sheds went up. Hammers hammered. Lawns
were laid, ground fertilized, worm-eggs installed. Some natural
vegetation of a weird nature appeared, its seeds having been alive
but frozen for a time measured in epochs. No doubt of it, the soil
was alive. The fowl flourished in their fenced in yard, prone to no
diseases, having no natural enemies, neither mice nor lice.
Harvey worked with three generations of chickens. He made his
experiments with fluctuating gravity under the chicken house.
His employees were fascinated. Harvey explained. "I'm actually 50 years
old," he said. "Don't tell my fiancee. She thinks I'm 40. But being out
in space, virtually with no gravitational pull on my body for almost
all of my life, my life expectancy has been pushed up to somewhere in
the hundreds. I can pass for forty.
"Gravity," he said, "makes people grow old and probably hastens death.
The muscles have to fight gravity, so do all the other organs. The
muscles toughen, get stringy, the skin, the nerves, the arteries and
the meat of the body get brittle and hard. This is what is known as
'old age.'
"Think what effect a lowered or fluctuating gravity could have on these
beautiful gray white birds."
Harvey experimented a great deal as the weeks passed. He often adjusted
the gravity lugs down to a point where they exerted just enough force
to hold the atmosphere to the planet. The results were remarkable on
the Plymouths.
The third generation of fowl were distinctly a fifth larger than their
ancestors. The cocks, which normally should weigh 10 lbs., now weighed
between 10 and 14. The hens in proportion kept a couple of pounds under
this; they matured faster, they bred much more vigorously than any
Plymouth Rock ever had. The eggs were consistently larger.
Harvey early decided against hatching incubators because the hens,
untroubled by vermin or other influences such as bad weather which
could make them neurotic, paid tranquil attention to their jobs. He
did, however, have open electric brooders constantly going so that the
chicks could go to them for warmth if necessary.
Lowering the gravity had a similar effect on his corn, oats and
wheat crops. They sprang up, maturing in a remarkably short time.
There was plenty of feed for the fowl. Plymouth was rapidly becoming
self-supporting.
Harvey was pleased. He explained again: "Pressure can be considered
as a gravitational effect, and vice versa. Pressure chemistry causes
certain chemical reactions to speed up, others to slow down. I figure
that by Thanksgiving I can find the correct variation of gravitational
pressure that will give me a breed of Plymouth Rocks never seen in this
universe."
* * * * *
By the time the fourth swift generation came along he had almost
reached his goal. Furthermore, the flesh was tenderer than any of these
men had thought possible. When the time came for Harvey to take them
back to Venus, he promised them they would be well supplied by the time
Thanksgiving rolled around.
Harvey was somewhat loathe to leave the planet Plymouth alone. He had
a certain fear in the back of his head that things would happen if he
did. He intended to return as soon as he and Anna got married.
He showed up at the Hotel de Mars a week ahead of time. At Anna's place
behind the Registration desk stood a white haired little old lady.
A chill started deep in his stomach when she told him Anna left a
month--no, two months ago. She produced a letter Anna had left him. It
was brief and pointed.
"Harvey," the letter read, "I know you lied to me. There isn't any
planet called Plymouth. I looked it up in the star atlases. Nobody ever
heard of it. I'm not going to stay here and be bitterly disappointed
when you don't show up at the end of ten months. Goodbye."
Harvey threw the letter away. It had served its purpose.
"Ma'am," he said, "I'm a man of action and few words. What is Miss
Morley's Oregon address?"
Nobody knew Anna's Oregon address. Harvey instantly left for Oregon.
Landing there, he began looking. He had found juncture faults; he
would find Anna. It took him over a month. He ran across her quite by
accident behind the cigar counter in a drugstore.
"Anna," he said, "there's no time to lose; get your things; quit this
job; come with me." He stopped anything she had to say. They were
married in the next hour. An hour after that they were on the way to
the planet whose existence Anna still doubted.
There was little room for doubt when that spot of entrancing green
in an ocean of black was sighted. "It's beautiful," Anna breathed,
squeezing his hand. "But what's the rush to get here?"
He explained without rancor. "Your lack of faith in me cost us far too
much time. This is a new breed of chicken; they propagate vigorously.
But they have no natural enemies. Every living thing needs a natural
enemy. Our Plymouths have probably overrun the planet."
She gurgled, then put her hand over her mouth.
He took her hand away. "Anna, dearest, laugh. Laugh as much as you
please. But I have no sense of humor. This you will discover as we move
through life together. I see nothing funny in this situation. Living
creatures need natural enemies."
When the ship landed, his meaning became obvious. Chickens flew in
great squawking clouds through the air, walked and clucked in rivers at
their feet. Feathers came down like heavy snow; the ground was covered
with fluffy white mounds. From horizon to horizon there seemed to be
little else but chicken.
Anna was appalled. Harvey was planning. A slaughter would be necessary.
"_We're_ their natural enemies," he explained. "Your chicken farm is
ready to pay off."