[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
amount of their fines for A.R.P. violation, and small print at the bottom of
their summons pointed out that they could forfeit it if they chose, thus
paying their fines, simply by failing to appear at the magistrate's trial.
They got out just in time to get the bulldog edition of Nature's Way from a
sidewalk scriber.
They looked at once on the spread, pages 34 and 35, expecting anything, even
blank pages.
Tragically, the pages were not blank at all.
Pages 34 and 35 had nothing to do with Aztec Wine of Coca. It was a straight
news story, headlined:
U. S. MISSILE VULNERABILITY TOTAL IN
ALL-STAR GAME, SAYS GOVERNMENT
STATISTICS EXPERT
From there it got worse. Maggie screamed faintly over Denzer's shoulder as she
read parts of it aloud: " 'The obsessive preoccupation of the American public
with baseball stems from a bread-and-
circuses analogy with ancient Rome. Now, as then, it may lead to our
destruction.' Denzer! Does this maniac want us to get lynched?"
"Read on," moaned Denzer, already several laps ahead of her. Neatly boxed on
the second page was a digested, sexed-up version of something Denzer
recognized faintly as the study of cement in the shelter program Chase had
mentioned. What the Nature's Way semantic-digester had made of it was:
SHELTERS DEATH TRAPS
Study of the approved construction codes of all American shelter projects
indicates that they will not withstand even large chemical explosives.
"I think," sobbed Arturo Denzer, "that I'll cut my throat."
"Not here, Mac," snapped the news-scribing machine. "Move on, will you? Hey!
Late! Whaddya read?"
Shaking, the couple moved on. "Denzer," Maggie gasped, "where do you think Joe
got this stuff?"
"Why, from us, Maggie," Denzer tried to swallow, but his throat was dry.
"Didn't you hear Chase before? That was the mix-up at the desk; we must have
got his papers, and I suppose what's his-
name's, Venezuela's, and bundled them off to Joe. Nice job of rush typography,
though," he added absently, staring into
I
space. "Say, Maggie. What Venezuela was talking about. You think there's any
truth to it?"
"To what, Denzer?"
"What it says here. Optimum time for the Other Side to strike-during the
All-Star Game, it says.
You think-?"
Maggie shook her head. "I don't think, Denzer," she said, and they walked on
for a moment.
They heard their names called, turned, and were overtaken rapidly by Valendora
and the cement engineer. "You!" cried Chase. "You have my thesis!"
"And you have my study!" cried Valendora.
"Not I but humanity," said Denzer sadly, holding out the damp faxed edition of
Nature's Way.
Valendora, after one white-faced oath in Spanish, took it calmly. He glanced
up at the sky for a second, then shrugged. "Someone will not like this. I
should estimate," he said thoughtfully, "that within five minutes we will all
be back in the calabozo."
But he was wrong.
It was actually less than three.
v
It was the third inning, and Craffany had just benched Little Joe Fliederwick.
In spite of the sudden ban on air travel the stadium was full. Every
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television screen in the country followed
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ical%20Mass.txt (62 of 66) [2/24/2004 10:42:53 PM]
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l%20&%20C.%20M.%20Kornbluth%20-%20Critical%20Mass.txt
Little Joe's trudging walk to the dugout.
In the White House, President Braden, shoes off, sipping a can of beer,
ignored the insistent buzzing hi , his ear as long as he could. He wanted to
watch the game, "-and the crowd is roaring," roared the announcer, "just
a-boiling, folks! What's Craffany up to? What will he do next? Man, don't we
have one going here today? Folks, was that the all-important turning point in
today's all-im-in today's record-breaking All-Star Game, folks? Well, we'll
see. In sixty seconds we'll return to the field, but meanwhile-"
The President allowed his attention to slip away from the commercial and took
another pull at his beer. Baseball, now. That was something he could get his
teeth into. He'd been a fan since the age of five. All his life. Even during
the Century of the Common Woman, when that madman Danton had listened to the
Female Lobby and put girls on every second base in the nation. But it had
never been this good. This Fliederwick, now, he was good.
Diverted, he glanced at the screen. The camera was on Little Joe again,
standing at the steps to the dugout, looking up. So were his teammates; and
the announcer was saying: "Looks like some more of those air-to-air
missile-busters, folks. A huge flight of them. Way up. Well, it's good to know
our country's defense is being looked after and, say, speaking of defense,
what do you suppose
Craffany's going to do now that-"
The buzzing returned. The President sighed and spoke to his invisible
microphones. "What? Oh.
Well, damn it... all right."
With a resentful heart he put down the beer can and snapped off the television [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szamanka888.keep.pl
amount of their fines for A.R.P. violation, and small print at the bottom of
their summons pointed out that they could forfeit it if they chose, thus
paying their fines, simply by failing to appear at the magistrate's trial.
They got out just in time to get the bulldog edition of Nature's Way from a
sidewalk scriber.
They looked at once on the spread, pages 34 and 35, expecting anything, even
blank pages.
Tragically, the pages were not blank at all.
Pages 34 and 35 had nothing to do with Aztec Wine of Coca. It was a straight
news story, headlined:
U. S. MISSILE VULNERABILITY TOTAL IN
ALL-STAR GAME, SAYS GOVERNMENT
STATISTICS EXPERT
From there it got worse. Maggie screamed faintly over Denzer's shoulder as she
read parts of it aloud: " 'The obsessive preoccupation of the American public
with baseball stems from a bread-and-
circuses analogy with ancient Rome. Now, as then, it may lead to our
destruction.' Denzer! Does this maniac want us to get lynched?"
"Read on," moaned Denzer, already several laps ahead of her. Neatly boxed on
the second page was a digested, sexed-up version of something Denzer
recognized faintly as the study of cement in the shelter program Chase had
mentioned. What the Nature's Way semantic-digester had made of it was:
SHELTERS DEATH TRAPS
Study of the approved construction codes of all American shelter projects
indicates that they will not withstand even large chemical explosives.
"I think," sobbed Arturo Denzer, "that I'll cut my throat."
"Not here, Mac," snapped the news-scribing machine. "Move on, will you? Hey!
Late! Whaddya read?"
Shaking, the couple moved on. "Denzer," Maggie gasped, "where do you think Joe
got this stuff?"
"Why, from us, Maggie," Denzer tried to swallow, but his throat was dry.
"Didn't you hear Chase before? That was the mix-up at the desk; we must have
got his papers, and I suppose what's his-
name's, Venezuela's, and bundled them off to Joe. Nice job of rush typography,
though," he added absently, staring into
I
space. "Say, Maggie. What Venezuela was talking about. You think there's any
truth to it?"
"To what, Denzer?"
"What it says here. Optimum time for the Other Side to strike-during the
All-Star Game, it says.
You think-?"
Maggie shook her head. "I don't think, Denzer," she said, and they walked on
for a moment.
They heard their names called, turned, and were overtaken rapidly by Valendora
and the cement engineer. "You!" cried Chase. "You have my thesis!"
"And you have my study!" cried Valendora.
"Not I but humanity," said Denzer sadly, holding out the damp faxed edition of
Nature's Way.
Valendora, after one white-faced oath in Spanish, took it calmly. He glanced
up at the sky for a second, then shrugged. "Someone will not like this. I
should estimate," he said thoughtfully, "that within five minutes we will all
be back in the calabozo."
But he was wrong.
It was actually less than three.
v
It was the third inning, and Craffany had just benched Little Joe Fliederwick.
In spite of the sudden ban on air travel the stadium was full. Every
Page 86
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
television screen in the country followed
file:///D|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry/D...C.%20M.%20Kornbluth%20-%20Crit
ical%20Mass.txt (62 of 66) [2/24/2004 10:42:53 PM]
file:///D|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry/Desktop/New%20Folder...derik%20Poh
l%20&%20C.%20M.%20Kornbluth%20-%20Critical%20Mass.txt
Little Joe's trudging walk to the dugout.
In the White House, President Braden, shoes off, sipping a can of beer,
ignored the insistent buzzing hi , his ear as long as he could. He wanted to
watch the game, "-and the crowd is roaring," roared the announcer, "just
a-boiling, folks! What's Craffany up to? What will he do next? Man, don't we
have one going here today? Folks, was that the all-important turning point in
today's all-im-in today's record-breaking All-Star Game, folks? Well, we'll
see. In sixty seconds we'll return to the field, but meanwhile-"
The President allowed his attention to slip away from the commercial and took
another pull at his beer. Baseball, now. That was something he could get his
teeth into. He'd been a fan since the age of five. All his life. Even during
the Century of the Common Woman, when that madman Danton had listened to the
Female Lobby and put girls on every second base in the nation. But it had
never been this good. This Fliederwick, now, he was good.
Diverted, he glanced at the screen. The camera was on Little Joe again,
standing at the steps to the dugout, looking up. So were his teammates; and
the announcer was saying: "Looks like some more of those air-to-air
missile-busters, folks. A huge flight of them. Way up. Well, it's good to know
our country's defense is being looked after and, say, speaking of defense,
what do you suppose
Craffany's going to do now that-"
The buzzing returned. The President sighed and spoke to his invisible
microphones. "What? Oh.
Well, damn it... all right."
With a resentful heart he put down the beer can and snapped off the television [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]