Tales From the White Hart

by Arthur C. Clarke

  It seemed an unlikely coincidence that these two scientific tycoons should have met by chance, and Harry waited to see what skullduggery was afoot. For a while the conversation was confined to generalities, but it was obvious that Professor McKenzie was extremely inquisitive about the Doctor's other two guests. Not long after they had been introduced, he made some excuse to hop back to his own ship and Harry moaned inwardly. If the Embassy got two separate enquiries about him in the space of half an hour, they'd wonder what he'd been up to. It might even make the F.B.I, suspicious, and then how would he get those promised twenty-four pairs of nylons out of the country?

  Harry found it quite fascinating to study the relation between the two scientists. They were like a couple of fighting cocks circling for position. Romano treated the younger man with a downright rudeness which, Harry suspected, concealed a grudging admiration. It was clear that Dr. Romano was an almost fanatical conservationist, and regarded the activities of McKenzie and his employers with the greatest disapproval. "You're a gang of robbers," he said once. "You're seeing how quickly you can loot this planet of its resources, and you don't give a damn about the next generation."

  "And what," answered McKenzie, not very originally, "has the next generation ever done for us?"

  The sparring continued for the best part of an hour, and much of what went on was completely over Harry's head. He wondered why he and George were being allowed to sit in on all this, and after a while he began to appreciate Dr. Romano's technique. He was an opportunist of genius: he was glad to keep them round, now that they had turned up, just to worry Professor McKenzie and to make him wonder what other deals were afoot.

  He let the molecular sieve leak out bit by bit, as if it wasn't really important and he was only mentioning it in passing. Professor McKenzie, however, latched on to it at once, and the more evasive Romano became, the more insistent was his adversary. It was obvious that he w; being deliberately coy, and that though Professor McKenzie knew this perfectly well, he couldn't help playing the older scientist's game.

  Dr. Romano had been discussing the device in a peculiarly oblique fashion, as if it were a future project rather than an existing fact. He outlined its staggering possibilities, and explained how it would make all existing forms of mining obsolete, besides removing forever the danger of world metal shortages.

  "If it's so good," exclaimed McKenzie presently, "Why haven't you made the thing?"

  "What do you think I'm doing out here in the Gulf Stream?" retorted the Doctor. "Take a look at this."

  He opened a locker beneath the sonar set, and pulled out a small metal bar which he tossed to McKenzie. It looked like lead, and was obviously extremely heavy. The Professor hefted it in his hand and said at once: "Uranium. Do you mean to say...."

  "Yes—every gram. And there's plenty more where that came from." He turned to Harry's friend and said: "George—what about taking the Professor down in your submarine to have a look at the works? He won't see much, but it'll show him we're in business."

  McKenzie was still so thoughtful that he took a little like a private submarine in his stride. He returned the surface fifteen minutes later, having seen just enough to whet his appetite.

  "The first thing I want to know," he said to Romano, "is why you're showing this to me It's about the biggest thing that ever happened—why isn't your own firm handling it?"

  Romano gave a little snort of disgust.

  "You know I've had a row with the Board," he said. "Anyway, that lot of old dead-beats couldn't handle any-as big as this. I hate to admit it, but you Texas pi-are the boys for the job."

  "This is a private venture of yours?"

  "Yes: the company knows nothing about it, and I've sunk half a million of my own money into it. It's been a kind of hobby of mine. I felt someone had to undo the age that was going on, the rape of the continents by people like—"

  "All right—we've heard that before. Yet you propose giving it to us?"

  "Who said anything about giving?"

  There was a pregnant silence. Then McKenzie said cautiously; "Of course, there's no need to tell you that we"' be interested—very interested. If you'll let us have the figures on efficiency, extraction rates, and all the other relevant statistics—no need to tell us the actual technical details if you don't want to—then we'll be able to talk business. I can't really speak for my associates but I'm sure that they can raise enough cover to make any deal—.

  "Scott," said Romano—and his voice now held a note of tiredness that for the first time reflected his age—"I'm not interested in doing a deal with your partners. I haven't time to haggle with the boys in the front room and their lawyers and their lawyers' lawyers. Fifty years I've " doing that sort of thing, and believe me, I'm tired, is my development. It was done with my money, and the equipment is in my ship. I want to do a personal de direct with you. You can handle it from then on."

  McKenzie blinked.

  "I couldn't swing anything as big as this," he protested "Sure, I appreciate the offer, but if this does what you say, it's worth billions. And I'm just a poor but honest millionaire."

  "Money I'm no longer interested in. What would I with it at my time of life? No, Scott, there's just one thing I want now—and I want it right away, this minute. Give me the 'Sea Spray', and you can have my process.

  "You're crazy! Why, even with inflation, you co build the 'Spray' for inside a million. And your process must be worth—"

  "I'm not arguing, Scott. What you say is true, but I'd an old man in a hurry, and it would take me a year to get a ship like yours built. I've wanted her ever since you showed her to me back at Miami. My proposal '•&. that you take over the 'Valency', with all her lab equip-; ment and records. It will only take an hour to swap out personal effects—we've a lawyer here who can make it all legal. And then I'm heading out into the Caribbean, down through the islands, and across the Pacific."

  "You've got it all worked out?" said McKenzie in awed wonder.

  "Yes. You can take it or leave it."

  "I never heard such a crazy deal in my life," said McKenzie, somewhat petulantly. "Of course I'll take it. I know a stubborn old mule when I see one."

  The next hour was one of frantic activity. Sweating crew-members rushed back and forth with suitcases and bundles, while Dr. Romano sat happily in the midst of the turmoil he had created, a blissful smile upon his wrinkled old face. George and Professor McKenzie went into a legal huddle, and emerged with a document which Romano signed with hardly a glance.,

  Unexpected things began to emerge from the "Sea Spray", such as a beautiful mutation mink and a beautiful non-mutation blonde.

  "Hello, Sylvia," said Dr. Romano politely. "I'm afraid find the quarters here a little more cramped. The Professor never mentioned you were aboard. Never mind we won't mention it either. Not actually in the contract, a gentleman's agreement, shall we say? It would be such a pity to upset Mrs. McKenzie."

  "I don't know what you mean!" pouted Sylvia, "Someone has to do all the Professor's typing."

  "And you do it damn badly, my dear," said McKenzie, assisting her over the rail with true Southern gallantry, couldn't help admiring his composure in such an embarrassing situation—he was by no means sure that he would have managed as well. But he wished he had the opportunity to find out.

  At last the chaos subsided, the stream of boxes and bundles subsided to a trickle. Dr. Romano shook hands with everybody, thanked George and Harry for their assistance, strode to the bridge of the "Sea Spray", and ten minutes later, was half-way to the horizon. f Harry was wondering if it wasn't about time for them to take their departure as well—they had never got round to explaining to Professor McKenzie what they were doing here in the first place—when the radio-telephone started calling. Dr. Romano was on the line.

  "Forgotten his tooth-brush, I suppose," said George.

  It was not quite as trivial as that. Fortunately, the loudspeaker was switched on. Eavesdropping was practically forced upon them and
required none of the effort that makes it so embarrassing to a gentleman.

  "Look here, Scott," said Dr. Romano, "I think I owe you some sort of explanation."

  "If you've gypped me, I'll have you for every cent—"

  "Oh, it's not like that. But I did rather pressurize you,! though everything I said was perfectly true. Don't get too; annoyed with me—you've got a bargain. It'll be a long time, though, before it makes you any money, and you'll j have to sink a few millions of your own into it first. You ' see, the efficiency has to be increased by about three orders of magnitude before it will be a commercial proposition: that bar of uranium cost me a couple of thou sand dollars. Now don't blow your top—it can be done I'm certain of that. Dr. Kendall is the man to get: he all the basic work—hire him away from my people he ever much it costs you. You're a stubborn cuss and know you'll finish the job now it's on your hands. That's why I wanted you to have it. Poetic justice, too—you’ll be able to repay some of the damage you've done to land. Too bad it'll make you a billionaire, but that can't be helped.

  "Wait a minute—don't cut hi on me. I'd have finished the job myself if I had the time, but it'll take at least thr more years. And the doctors say I've only got six months I wasn't kidding when I said I was in a hurry. I'm gla I clinched the deal without having to tell you that, but believe me I'd have used it as a weapon if I had to. Just one thing more—when you do get the process working name it after me, will you? That's all—it's no use calling me back. I won't answer—and I know you can't cab me."

  Professor McKenzie didn't turn a hair.

  "I thought it was something like that," he said to one in particular. Then he sat down, produced an elaborate pocket slide-rule, and became oblivious to the work He scarcely looked up when George and Harry, feeling very much outclassed, made their polite departure and silently snorkeled away.

  "Like so many things that happen these days," concluded Harry Purvis. "I still don't know the final outcome of this meeting. I rather imagine that Professor McKenzie has run into some snags, or we'd have heard rumors about the process by now. But I've not the slightest doubt that sooner or later it'll be perfected, so get ready to sell your mining shares....

  "As for Dr. Romano, he wasn't kidding, though his doctors were a little out in their estimates. He lasted a full year, and I guess the 'Sea Spray' helped a lot. They buried him in mid-Pacific, and it's just occurred to me that the old boy would have appreciated that. I told you what fanatical conservationist he was, and it's a piquant thought even now some of his atoms may be going through his own molecular sieve....

  "I notice some incredulous looks, but it's a fact. If you ok a tumbler of water, poured it into the ocean, mixed ell, then filled the glass from the sea, there'd still be some scores of molecules of water from the original sample in the tumbler. So—" he gave a gruesome little buckle—"it's only a matter of tune before not only Dr. Romano, but all of us, make some contribution to the eve. And with that thought, gentlemen, I bid you all a pleasant good-night."

  THE RELUCTANT ORCHID

  THOUGH FEW people in the "White Hart" will concede at any of Harry Purvis' stories are actually true, everyone agrees that some are much more probable than others.

  And on any scale of probability, the affair of the Reluctant Orchid must rate very low indeed. I don't remember what ingenious gambit Harry used to launch this narrative: maybe some orchid fancier brought i latest monstrosity into the bar, and that set him off. No alter. I do remember the story, and after all that's what its.

  The adventure did not, this time, concern any of Harry's numerous relatives, and he avoided explaining just how he managed to know so many of the sordid details. The hero—if you can call him that—of this hot house epic was an inoffensive little clerk named Hercules; Keating. And if you think that is the most unlikely part of the story, just stick round a while.

  Hercules is not the sort of name you can carry off] lightly at the best of times, and when you are four loot nine and look as if you'll have to take a physical culture course before you can even become a 97-pound weakling, it is a positive embarrassment. Perhaps it helped to explain why Hercules had very little social life, and all his real friends grew in pots in a humid conservatory at the bottom of his garden. His needs were simple and he spent very little money on himself; consequently his collection of orchids and cacti was really rather remarkable. Indeed, he had a wide reputation among the fraternity of cactophiles, and often received from remote corners of the globe, parcels smelling of mould and tropical jungles.

  Hercules had only one living relative, and it would have been hard to find a greater contrast than Aunt Henrietta She was a massive six footer, usually wore a rather loud line in Harris tweeds, drove a Jaguar with reckless skill and chain-smoked cigars. Her parents had set their heart on a boy, and had never been able to decide whether not their wish had been granted. Henrietta earned a living,; and quite a good one, breeding dogs of various shapes and sizes. She was seldom without a couple of her latest models, and they were not the type of portable canine which ladies like to carry hi their handbags. The Keating Kennels specialized hi Great Danes, Alsatians, and Sain Bernards....

  Henrietta, rightly despising men as the weaker sex, 1 never married. However, for some reason she took avuncular (yes, that is definitely the right word) interest hi Hercules, and called to see him almost every weekend. It was a curious kind of relationship: probably Henrietta] found that Hercules bolstered up her feelings of superiority. If be was a good example of the male sex, then were certainly a pretty sorry lot. Yet, if this was Henrietta's motivation, she was unconscious of it and seemed genuinely fond of her nephew. She was patronizing, but never unkind.

  As might be expected, her attentions did not exactly help Hercules' own well-developed inferiority complex. At first he had tolerated his aunt; then he came to dread her regular visits, her booming voice and her bone-crushing handshake; and at last he grew to hate her. Eventually, indeed, his hate was the dominant emotion in his life, exceeding even his love for his orchids. But he was careful not to show it, realizing that if Aunt Henrietta discovered how he felt about her, she would probably break him hi two and throw the pieces to her wolf pack.

  There was no way, then, in which Hercules could ex-

  . press his pent-up feelings. He had to be polite to Aunt

  Henrietta even when he felt like murder. And he often did feel like murder, though he knew that there was nothing he would ever do about it. Until one day...

  According to the dealer, the orchid came from "somewhere hi the Amazon region"—a rather vague postal address. When Hercules first saw it, it was not a very prepossessing sight, even to anyone who loved orchids as much as he did. A shapeless root, about the size of a man's fist—that was all. It was redolent of decay, and there was the faintest hint of a rank, carrion smell. Hercules was not even sure that it was viable, and told the dealer as much. Perhaps that enabled him to purchase it for a trifling sum, and he carried it home without much enthusiasm.

  It showed no signs of life for the first month, but that did not worry Hercules. Then, one day, a tiny green shoot appeared and started to creep up to the light. After that, progress was rapid. Soon there was a thick, fleshy stem as big as a man's forearm, and colored a positively virulent green. Near the top of the stem a series of curious bulges circled the plant: otherwise it was completely featureless. Hercules was now quite excited: he was sure; that some entirely new species had swum into his ken.

  The rate of growth was now really fantastic: soon the plant was taller than Hercules, not that that was saying a great deal. Moreover, the bulges seemed to be developing, and it looked as if at any moment the orchid would burst into bloom. Hercules waited anxiously, knowing how short-lived some flowers can be, and spent as much time as he possibly could in the hot-house. Despite all his watchfulness, the transformation occurred one night whiles he was asleep.

  In the morning, the orchid was fringed by a series of eight dangling tendrils, almost reach
ing to the ground. They must have developed inside the plant and emerged with—for the vegetable world—explosive speed. Hercules stared at the phenomenon in amazement, and went very thoughtfully to work.

  That evening, as he watered the plant and checked its soil, he noticed a still more peculiar fact. The tendrils were thickening, and they were not completely motionless. They had a slight but unmistakable tendency to vibrate, as if possessing a life of their own. Even Hercules, for all his interest and enthusiasm, found this more than a little disturbing.

  A few days later, there was no doubt about it at all. When he approached the orchid, the tendrils swayed towards nun in an unpleasantly suggestive fashion. The impression of hunger was so strong that Hercules began to feel very uncomfortable indeed, and something started to nag at the back of his mind. It was quite a while before he could recall what it was: then he said to himself, "Of course! How stupid of me!" and went along to the local library. Here he spent a most interesting half-hour rereading a little piece by one H. G. Wells entitled, "The Flowering of the Strange Orchid. "