You Too Can Be A Millionaire Part 3

Penelope's mouth shot open and she popped her hand across it.

"You have now a hundred and twenty-two thousand," Conley said. He got up from his chair. "Well, I'm sorry, folks. That's the way it is."

Mark gulped. "What way?"

"Miss Penelope will have to come with me."

Mark was on his feet. "If she goes, I go," he said dramatically.

Conley looked at him. "If you feel that way about it, there won't be any trouble at all. You did go over, so I can take you in too."

"In where?" Penelope demanded.

"A certain number of persons is required to keep Central going, as I said--actually to be the government. But most of the population today is so apathetic they wouldn't be of any use at all, so years ago some of us who were in Central got an idea. We discovered that whenever any citizen rebels against the monotony of life today, he or she eventually winds up trying to gather a lot of points, because that is the only outlet for energy and ambition. That is the kind of person we need, so when anybody gets over a hundred thousand, the machine warns us. We go after them."

Conley picked up his type N hat. "Well, see you in the morning. Punch in your cards at window 1000. We'll do the rest. And by the way--" He was at the door. "We start work at eight o'clock."

Mark brightened. "Did you say _work_?"

"Oh, it's only four hours a day, five days a week. The rest of the time is your own, only of course you can't come Outside. It would upset things if the general public learned about us. Yes, it's a regular job; not hard work, but steady work. Gives you something to aim for; there are promotions, you know, and extra bonuses for those who show promise."

"Work!" Mark said. "Steady work? You mean there'll be something to do all the time?"

"Five days a week," said Conley.

Mark said, "This is so sudden. Why don't you sit down a minute while we let it soak in? We have plenty of enzymes and stuff for a guest, don't we, Miss Penelope? Why not stay for supper, Conley?"

"No, thanks," said Conley. "We have beefsteak and hot biscuits for supper in Central."

Penelope shrieked with joy. "Beef!"

Mark was puzzled. "What's that?"

"It's an old-fashioned food," said Conley. "Rather tasty too."

"Please sit down," Penelope begged, "and tell us more."

Conley looked at his watch. "Believe I will. My feet get a little tired all day from pounding the pavement. But there isn't much more to tell.

You'll find out everything tomorrow. And I'm sure you'll like it. We try to give each person work to challenge him."

"What if a person wouldn't want to go to Central?"

"Very few ever object. Once in a while they are afraid and run away, but we just register their number with all the machines, and whenever that number is presented for food or clothes, the machines reject the card."

He paused. "A very neat arrangement. Of course, inside of Central the point system as you know it now will be of no value whatever. We use money in Central."

Penelope had a can of synthetic meat in her hands. "Beef!" she said suddenly, and hurled the can into the disintichute. "I'm going to starve all night so I can enjoy eating tomorrow."

"So n.o.body ever gets away?" asked Mark.

"Very seldom, though there's one fellow playing a game with Central. He must have gotten wind of us, and he keeps careful check on his points.

About once every three months he starts going strong. He'll be putting in eight or ten thousand points a day. Then his balance will shoot up over a hundred thousand and I'll go after him, but he's always just signed away a lot of points. Would you believe it, the last time he had given away fifty thousand points to a fellow who claimed a broken back.

He said he knew it was a phony, but he had me there and he laughed at me, for he had signed away the points. The slip showed up next day."

Mark looked at Penelope and grinned. "We should have known that n.o.body in his right mind would give away fifty thousand points."

Conley raised his hand in a salute. "See you tomorrow at Central. If they don't keep you busy, look me up."

Mark watched him leave. Then he looked beamingly at Penelope. "Work!

Every day! Eight o'clock! We'll have to get up before breakfast! Isn't it wonderful?"

But Penelope's bird-like eyes were bright. "He said there would be promotions and bonuses for those who show promise," she recalled. "I wish we had known that. We could have made a cleanup and gone into Central with a record that would make their eyes pop out. Anyhow"--she dug her pad of release blanks out of her pocket and began to figure on the back. "Let's see, fifty thousand from the little man who's playing a game with Central, twenty-five from the owner of the sidewalk, two thousand for the raspberry, five hundred each from two who made noises of disrespect, and a thousand from the man who doubted that your back was really broken. You could have collected two thousand from that last one," she said absently, "if you hadn't got cold feet. Anyway, that's seventy-nine thousand points. Now, then, twenty per cent of that is fifteen thousand, eight hundred points."

She wrote rapidly and held out the pad to Mark. "Sign my slip, please."