by B. TRAVEN
While Lita was talking away, she brushed Aslan’s hair and began to sing.
“What is this beautiful song called, Lita?”
“‘Reina de Mi Jacal.’ ‘Queen of My Poor Hut.’”
She had finished singing the rancheras and dressing the hair.
Aslan sat up, stretched her arms, yawned blissfully, and as she walked toward her bedroom she said: “Lita, I just realized that I haven’t had any dinner. Run and get me two sandwiches, a bowl of fruit, a large glass of porter, and a little glass of sherry. I need something stimulating. Anyways, it was a turbulent evening. What do you think, Lita?”
“If you ask me, señora, I would say it was a typical family evening without incident.”
“Maybe. I guess it depends from which perspective you look at it. In any case, from my vantage point, and especially from my bottom’s perspective, it is not possible to say that this evening featured regular entertainment.”
“Well, if you see it that way, señora, I guess it must be true.”
“Now, run. If you come back and find me as a beautiful corpse, tell the world that I died of terrible starvation, because Lita did not bring me food fast enough.”
“Voy volando, señora. I am flying,” Lita answered, and rushed out.
20.
The two most powerful nations in the world, which had emerged as the only remaining large world powers, now seemed willing to destroy each other without pity in order to achieve supremacy. They had entered a competition of which nation could bomb and destroy the moon first, so that the other could not use it as a base for an all-out attack on earth. Nobody considered even for a minute that innocent life-forms could exist on the moon, and that they would be murdered ruthlessly. What do we care about such details as long as we can bomb the moon, Mars, and Venus to show the universe for once what crackerjacks we are, goddamn it! However, immensely large areas on earth were largely unexplored. Without a doubt they could offer hundreds of thousands of people better dwellings and living conditions. No one had explored the core of the earth. No one had discovered a cure for cancer, for arteriosclerosis, or for inexplicable heart attacks. However, time, energy, and money were available in amounts we can hardly imagine, and the battle for space began. One of those superpowers owned twenty-two satellites already. They were racing with incredible speed around earth, to shoot down the good Lord, our savior who was crowned with thorns, the Lord of Peace. They were making the existence of the bearded saints and the little angels quite a bit less comfortable.
Although one of the two superpowers could send fewer Sputniks into orbit than the other one, it owned one satellite big enough that you could see it with your bare eyes in good weather. The competing nation had almost managed to get within reach of the moon. The other nation immediately counterbalanced this feat by adding a new planet to the solar system, as a late Christmas present so to speak: “Peace on earth and goodwill to man.”
Admittedly, these human-made celestial bodies, which devoured billions of the hard-earned dollars of hardworking and tireless workers, had relatively little economic value. Their value was mainly political.
The obsession with discovering new weapons, a thousand times more destructive than those stored in unbelievable numbers, had become a veritable human illness. Instead of building new schools, new hospitals, cheaper housing, new railways, new power plants and irrigation systems, and instead of ending the bitter poverty of millions of people, they were manufacturing two thousand new hydrogen bombs every month as well as ten dozen rocket launchers that could travel nine thousand miles in six and a half minutes and decimate a million people to ash and rubble in half a second.
The results of this sinister arms race filled the pages of newspapers every day. They talked about “new triumphs” to convince even the last skeptic of humanity’s impending complete destruction. In such circumstances, of course, people forgot everything that was of use to them. They were mollified by descriptions of “great scientific achievements” by certain scholars who did not fulfill their duty of serving humanity, but who, on the contrary, used their knowledge and experience to destroy human beings.
Therefore, people forgot the big project of building a shipping route between the Atlantic and the Pacific across American soil. All the necessary money was needed elsewhere. And the situation was the same for both superpowers. And as far as our nation is concerned, we did not stop squandering billions of hard, good American dollars. Those members of the Senate and of Congress who tried to stop the waste by limiting the requested amounts to a minimum and by redirecting the funds toward where they were truly useful were in the minority. Members of certain circles accused them of an anti-American ideology, which came close to an accusation of treason.
America was giving away billions to countries that could not put their debt-ridden budgets in order due to political corruption, the criminal ineptitude of their governments, and hopeless colonial wars. Let the rich American uncle take care of you even if he is incredibly dumb and an idiot; he does not know what to do with his billions anyway.
The American government had wasted more than sixty-five thousand million dollars since World War II by claiming that this was the only way to save economically weak nations from the claws of Bolshevist super-imperialism. They tried to stop the spread of Bolshevism using dollars instead of perfectly sound Western ideology and culture. The might of money against the power of ideas. That’s also a battle.
They threw billions of dollars at dictators who used brutal police and military power to deny their citizens their human rights. No nation was as interested in Sputniks, Luniks, and intercontinental rockets as the American people. However, their interest waned quickly, especially because an unexpected invention or discovery can excite Americans in an almost unsettling manner. The only accomplishments and innovations that took root and remained present in the consciousness of Americans were those that credibly promised to serve a lasting, visible, general purpose.
The uproar about Sputniks, Atlas rockets, new planets, and the successful attempts at launching hydrogen bombs so that they hit their targets precisely at five thousand miles’ distance had died down. People had understood that these projects only served political purposes and were meant to suck even more money from taxpayers. Therefore, they began discussing the APTC project again.
Normal human beings cannot live in constant fear of a possible hydrogen-bomb attack without a healthy reaction. Human nature urges us to protest in order to achieve relief, no matter what the form of the protest.
However, before it could come to that, the nation faced a new problem. People were worried about the rapidly increasing number of unemployed workers. Like a nightmare, ten and a half million people on the dole (officially, of course, fewer than five million) depressed the economic vitality of the nation. Every month, the number approached the threshold of twelve million more rapidly.
What could be done to stop this increase?
Therefore, Aslan suddenly found herself at the center of public interest once again. Her project would solve the problem of unemployment to a significant extent and for several years, even if a hundred thousand superfluous soldiers were to be demobilized.
Once again, Aslan received mountains of letters, telegrams, and invitations to speak on the radio, on television, at conventions, in women’s organizations and clubs, as well as in chamber of commerce meetings and at the conferences of shipping companies. Aslan received many letters from simple folks like workers, chauffeurs, office employees and schoolteachers. In these letters, she read many things she had not considered in front of the committee and never would have considered because they were outside her range of expertise and experience.
One of these letters in particular caught her attention. It came from a plain sailor, a deck worker, handwritten as well as one might expect from such a man.
Dear Madam,
You forgot to mention something to the senators that is very important to me as a sailor. However, it is something
that a woman cannot know. You see, every ship must go into a dry dock within a certain time frame. There, you have to clean the hull of all kinds of marine animals, clams, and seaweed. The stuff sticking to the hull reduces the speed of the ship more than you might imagine. That costs a lot of money, which we could save. Then there are the loose bolts. And entire panels are loose, and you have to fix them with rivets so that they do not let water into the ship. Next, you have to paint the ship to protect it from rusting. Then you have to repair the propellers or repaint them or exchange the entire thing. All of these tasks can only be completed in a dry dock. Sometimes it takes three or four weeks or even longer. When you are fixing and painting the ship in the dry dock, it does not earn money; instead, it rather devours it. Now you want to build a railway on which a boat will be transported from Galveston to Los Angeles, California. And that is a very good idea. But when the ship drives on your train it does not need to go into the dry dock. You can clean it, repair it, paint it, and fix the propellers while it is en route with your train, during a time when the sailor does not have anything to do anyway. I think, dear madam, if you had explained all this to the gentlemen of the Senate who do not now and will never understand anything about ships, they would have said that the railway has to be built immediately and that you should ideally begin today. Good luck, madam.
“Amy,” said Aslan, “write a very nice thank-you letter to this sailor and include a hundred-dollar bill as payment for this excellent idea he gave us. Order copies made of this letter and distribute it to a dozen newspapers.”
Amy laughed, waving the letter.
“Ma’am, your idea is almost as good as that of the sailor, who I’m absolutely sure knows what he is talking about.”
Immediately after Amy had left the room, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in!” called Aslan, and Beckford appeared in the doorway.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Beckford. I haven’t seen you for an entire week. Have you been sick?”
“Not sick in that sense, ma’am. But I have finally come to my senses.”
“It was probably time. Sit down! What news are you bringing me?”
Beckford sat down and pulled out a letter that he passed to Aslan across the desk.
“My letter of resignation, ma’am. I’m resigning from my position.”
“But why? And so suddenly?”
“Based on what I see here and read in the newspapers, things are heating up again. That’s not my thing. I have finally realized that I am not suited for civilian life. Yesterday, I reported back to the Marine Corps. I’ve kept my rank as sergeant. I don’t have to think about anything. I receive an order for every step and every hand movement. And I never have to worry what kind of task I should give your secretary.”
“Well, indeed we discussed your position on the board. We had planned to urge you to step down from the position as general manager, because we had planned something for you where you would be entirely independent. The company of which you are president was supposed to receive the tasks of purchasing and administering building materials needed by our company. A gigantic enterprise with great responsibility.”
“But that is exactly what I am talking about and why I reported back to the Corps. I don’t want to be responsible for anything other than to have my recruits understand as fast as possible why they are in the Marine Corps. I want nothing more to do with enterprises, businesses, building materials, senators, railway constructions, and secretaries who tell you ‘good night’ at their door, after you have spent a whole long evening with them wasting many good dollars. That’s just not for me, ma’am. When I’m in uniform and what is more, the uniform of a sergeant, and I take a chick out to the movies, then she knows exactly what she owes me and how to pay it. Life here is too complicated for me, ma’am. In the military, everything is easy. You have one single worry: You don’t want to draw negative attention to yourself! And for a sergeant even this worry is reduced to a minimum.”
“I am beginning to understand. All right, Mr. Beckford, I accept your resignation. If you get sick of the Marine Corps one day—”
“Not as far as I can see, ma’am. They will fully count all my years of service. That will be very beneficial to me when it comes to my pension later on.”
“Nevertheless, if you ever need a job, we will always have an opening for you. Oh, by the way, do you need money?”
“Not a single dollar, ma’am. Thank you for all the good things you have done and planned to do for me. Because of you, I got close to making canals my profession. And canals are the only things that interest me outside of the Marine Corps. And the way I see it, ma’am, you yourself won’t be building a canal, but rather a railway. Again, many, many thanks.”
“Good luck, Mr. Beckford, I wish you well.” She held out her hand. Beckford shook her hand, turned around, and left.
Lost in thought, Aslan looked for a while at the door through which he had left.
Amy entered. “Ma’am, Mr. Beckford just came into my office. He was a little moved when he said to me: ‘Goodbye, Amy. For a long time.’ What did he mean, ma’am?”
“He meant that he is reporting back to the Marine Corps.”
“Well, I really don’t know what to say about that.”
“He probably knows best where he is comfortable.”
“At least I wish him all the best. He never did anything to me that I would have to regret today.”
“You never gave him the opportunity, Amy?”
“Never, ma’am. He was just not my type.”
“He would never be mine, either,” said Aslan, not looking up, and organizing papers on her desk. “Too awkward. Too boyish.” She changed her tone. “Amy, do you have any idea how much the offers are for the new issue of our shares, pending permission?”
“About two billion three hundred fifty million dollars. We have advance payments of about eight hundred million.”
Aslan laughed out loud and tipped her armchair so far back that Amy jumped up to catch her.
“Have you ever heard of such a thing? People are sending checks and money for shares we don’t even have yet and if things don’t work, we will never have. And these people are not just Americans, they are from Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Venezuela, Sweden, Germany, France, and Italy.”
“I think it’s not the shares, ma’am, that attract people like a magnet. It’s the enterprise. The idea. It’s their faith in you and your plan.”
“You’re saying something that sounds like economic philosophy. It’s not the piece of paper, the share, in which people believe, like—let’s say—a ten-thousand-dollar note. A piece of paper. And often a very dirty one. It’s their faith in the invisible worth of the work and production expressed in the piece of paper. At the same instant in which the faith in the invisible worth expressed in the dollar note is shattered, a ten-thousand-dollar note is worth less than a bar of soap. The same thing happens with our as-of-yet nonexistent new shares. They express a value that is not visible at the moment. However, there are millions of people who believe that it will be apparent one day. And all these people who order shares and pay large amounts in advance for shares that do not even exist yet are firmly convinced that our enterprise is feasible and that we will make it a reality.”
“You’re sure there’s no other reason for that, ma’am?”
“I’m sure. Oh, no news from the Senate, Amy?”
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
“The committee is really taking its time.”
“If the committee decides in favor of the company, ma’am, then the new series of shares is immediately available for sale, right?”
“Not by a long shot, my innocent little lamb. The committee doesn’t have the authority to give permission for the sale of any shares. The committee is only an investigative body appointed for purely political reasons. To issue new shares, we need the permission of the SEC, which is the Securities and Exchange Commission. We have to register the shares with them.
The only thing the committee can do is report to the SEC that in their opinion there’s no danger of stock fraud. Of course, the SEC has the final word in this matter. They don’t need to accept the decision of the Senate committee if they have a different opinion. Nevertheless, if the SEC denies us permission to issue new shares, we can appeal in court. I hope we don’t have to go that far. In any case, we have to wait till the committee makes their decision. It could take months, Amy, months.”
Aslan did not know and could not know what was happening in the Senate and the House of Representatives. And she could not know at all what was happening in the subcommittee that was deciding about the life or death of her company. The offices of the senators and House representatives, and especially of the members of the subcommittee, found themselves flooded with telegrams and letters. Apart from a few dozen letters written by troublemakers, they were all decisively in favor of the Aslan Project. Congressmen even received threatening letters. They were not even anonymous but signed, and they declared that the politicians should not hope to be reelected if they did not support the project, let alone undermine it. More and more people as well as both privately and publicly held companies began to realize the simple and obvious fact that for the next ten years, hundreds of thousands of people—no matter in which professions—would have a secure and most likely good income. The war and arms industry could not offer them anything like that, since those industries depended on political circumstances.
While the situation looked so peaceful from the outside, the committee and the private sessions of congressmen were tumultuous. Bitter fights erupted among career politicians. They fought about the following question: Why did the government not initiate such a gigantic plan, instead of leaving it to a private company to submit to the people this plan which was so valuable for the shipping industry?
Given the lobbying of American citizens—all of them voters—that increased every day, the Senate committee realized that it would be suicide to withhold or limit the constitutional rights of Aslan’s company without giving her at least the chance to procure the necessary funds for the execution of the work plan. Public opinion in favor of the project developed into a kind of referendum. If a negative decision of the committee might not have caused a revolution, the Senate would still have been faced with such a storm of outrage that they would have had to reverse their decision after all.