Short Stories by Robert A. Heinlein Vol 2 Part 61

'And then what? You may live another fifty - if you have regular supply service. How do you prefer to die - starvation or thirst?'

'Water is no problem,' Waldo said thoughtfully; 'as for supplies, I suppose I could use hydroponics a little more and stock up with some meat animals-'

Grimes cut him short with a nasty laugh. 'Proved my point. You don't know how to avert it, so you are figuring some way to save your own skin. I know you. You wouldn't talk about starting a truck garden if you knew the answers.'

Waldo looked at him thoughtfully. 'That's not entirely true. I don't know the solution, but I do have some ideas about it. I'll bet you a half interest in h.e.l.l that I can crack it. Now that you have called my attention to it, I must admit I am rather tied in with the economic system down below, and' - he smiled faintly - 'I was never one to neglect my own interests. Just a moment - I'll call your friend.'

'Not so fast. I came along for another reason, besides introducing

Jimmie to you. It can't be just any solution; it's got to be a particular solution.'

'What do you mean?'

'It's got to be a solution that will do away with the need for filling up the air with radiant energy.'

'Oh, that. See here, Uncle Gus, I know how interested you are in your theory, and I've never disputed the possibility that you may be right, but you can't expect me to mix that into another and very difficult problem.'

'Take another look. You're in this for self-interest. Suppose everybody was in the shape you are in.'

'You mean my physical condition?'

'I mean just that. I know you don't like to talk about it, but we blamed well need to. If everybody was as weak as you are - presto!

No coffee and cakes for Waldo. And that's just what I see coming.

You're the only man I know of who can appreclate what it means.'

'It seems fantastic.'

'It is. But the signs are there for anybody to read who wants to.

Epidemic myasthenia, not necessarily acute, but enough to raise h.e.l.l with our mechanical civilization. Enough to play hob with your supply lines. I've been collating my data since I saw you last and drawing some curves. You should see 'em'

'Did you bring them?'

'No, but I'll send 'em up. In the meantime, you can take my word for it.' He waited. 'Well, how about it?'

'I'll accept it as a tentative working hypothesis,' Waldo said slowly,

'until I see your figures. I shall probably want you to conduct some further research for me, on the ground - if your data is what you say it is.'

'Fair enough. G'bye.' Grimes kicked the air a couple of times as he absent-mindedly tried to walk.

Stevens's frame of mind as he waited for Grimes is better left undescribed. The mildest thought that pa.s.sed through his mind was a plaintive one about the things a man had to put up with to hold down what seemed like a simple job of engineering. Well, he wouldn't have the job very long. But he decided not to resign - he'd wait until they fired him; he wouldn't run out.

But he would d.a.m.n well get that vacation before he looked for another job.

He spent several minutes wishing that Waldo were strong enough for him to be able to take a poke at him. Or kick him in the belly - that would be more fun!

He was startled when the dummy suddenly came to life and callcd him by name. 'Oh, Mr Stevens.'

'Huh? Yes?'

'I have decided to accept the commission. My attorneys will arrange the details with your business office.'

He was too surprised to answer for a couple of seconds; when he did so the dummy had already gone dead. He waited impatiently for Grimes to show up.

'Doc!' he said, when the old man swam into view. 'What got into him?

How did you do it?'

'He thought it over and reconsidered,' Grimes said succinctly. 'Let's get going.'

Stevens dropped Dr Augustus Grimes at the doctor's home, then proceeded to his office. He had no more than parked his car and entered the tunnel leading towards the zone plant when he ran into his a.s.sistant. McLcod seemed a little out of breath. 'Gee, chief,' he said,

'I hoped that was you. I've had 'em watching for you. I need to see you.'

'What's busted now?' Stevens demanded apprehensively.. 'One of the cities?'

'No. What made you think so?'

'Go ahead with your story.'

'So far as I know ground power is humming sweet as can be. No trouble with the cities. What I had on my mind is this: I fixed my heap.'

'Huh? You mean you fixed the ship you crashed in?'

'It wasn't exactly a crash. I had plenty of power in the reserve banks; when reception cut off, I switched to emergency and landed her.'

'But you fixed it? Was it the deKalbs? Or something else?'

'It was the deKalbs all right. And they're fixed. But I didn't exactly do it myself. I got it done. You see-'

'What was the matter with them?'

'I don't know exactly. You see I decided that there was no point in hiring another skycar and maybe having another forced landing on the way home. Besides, it was my own crate I was flying, and I didn't want to dismantle her just to get the deKalbs out and have her spread out all over the countryside. So I hired a crawler, with the idea of taking her back all in one piece. I struck a deal with a guy who had a twelve-ton semitractor combination, and we-'

'For criminy's sake, make it march! What happened?'

'I'm trying to tell you. We pushed on into Pennsylvania and we were making pretty fair time when the crawler broke down. The right lead wheel, ahead of the treads. Honest to goodness, Jim, those roads are something fierce.'

'Never mind that. Why waste taxes on roads when ninety per cent of the traffic is in the air? You messed up a wheel. So then what?'

'Just the same, those roads are a disgrace,' McLeod maintained stubbornly.

'I was brought up in that part of the country. When I was a kid the road we were on was six lanes wide and smooth as a baby's f.a.n.n.y. They ought to be kept up; we might need 'em someday.' Seeing the look in his senior's eye, he went on hastily: 'The driver mugged in with his home office, and they promised to send a repair car out from the next town. All told, it would take three, four hours - maybe more. Well, we were laid up in the country

I grew up in. I says to myself, "McLeod, this is a wonderful chance to return to the scenes of your childhood and the room where the sun came peeping in the morn." Figuratively speaking, of course. Matter of fact, our house didn't have any windows.'