Grantville Gazette 35 gg-35

by Paula Goodlett (Ed)

  "We own that property in Zielona Gora," Sergeant Beckmann said.

  "Yes, but it's in Zielona Gora," David said. "Sure, it will start providing us some income once the set costs are paid, but it's a long way away for the people around here to get to."

  Sergeant Beckmann hesitated then shook his head and asked, "How long are we going to be here?"

  "I don't know, but probably some months," David said. He was pretty sure that the sergeant had been about to ask about diverting the goods for Zielona Gora to here then stopped himself. He was learning. "I think we were sent here to get the Third Division out of the way now that the Crown Loyalists have control of the government. So it could be years. Until the next election." Then David realized the import behind the question. "Sergeant, we are probably going to be sitting right here when the people we have bought stuff from using the beckies come into town to buy stuff using the beckies and we had better have stuff to sell them. Even if we weren't going to be here, leaving the people in this region holding a bunch of worthless paper isn't something the general would sanction, nor something I'd do even under direct orders.

  "Yes, sir!" Sergeant Beckmann said, sounding quite sincere. He was really good at that, David noted. "I never thought of doing anything like that, sir. My question was more along a different line. We were just getting started setting up shop in Poland when we got sent here. I was only wondering if we'd have time to set up here and get things running before we got ordered off to somewhere else."

  "That's a point, Master David," Johan Kipper said. "The prince, he moves fast for a general, that he does. We probably need to move pretty fast ourselves, in case we need to move before we expect."

  David nodded. "All right. Let's get in touch with the king's financial people, since he probably owns this place, and see if we can buy it. Johan, you do that. You're still on the boards of HSMC and half a dozen other Grantville firms. If we can't buy it, find out what we can buy in the area. We're going to need a store to go with the catalog sales. Meanwhile, if we're going to issue beckies, they ought to have a picture of Rebecca Stearns on them. See if you fellows can find a picture of her. I guess we'll have to send to Grantville and have one of the machine shops cut us some plates."

  "I think . . . there may be another way," said Sergeant Beckmann. "There's a wood carver with the printing group who makes woodcuts on the side, prints them up for the men. He calls them centerfolds. I don't know why."

  David knew why and so did Johan.

  Johan muttered, "He'd better not have a centerfold of Becky Stearns or I don't want to be anywhere near him when the general finds out."

  The sergeant mumbled something about, "Well, maybe the one of Rebecca Stearns is a pinup, not a centerfold. I'm not really sure what the difference is. Sometimes the guy calls them one, sometimes he calls them the other. Centerfolds and celebrity pinups. He has maybe ten of the celebrity pinups and twenty centerfolds. He runs a little business on the side."

  Which was something that Sergeant Beckmann would naturally be familiar with. "Two things, Sergeant. There are laws . . ." David stopped. There were laws up-time and even up-time, if he was remembering right, pictures of celebrities were all over the place, Whether the celebrities wanted them there or not. And Rebecca Abrabanel had had her own TV show. For all David knew this artist of Sergeant Beckmann's acquaintance wasn't doing anything wrong. And if he was, probably the worst crime they could get him on was misuse of Third Division property. "Never mind. Find your artistic friend and bring him here with all his plates. Not just of Rebecca, all of them.

  ****

  As it turned out David's fears were mostly groundless. The naked ladies sold better in the army, but the crew of that printing press sold what might be called celebrity portraits, including Mike and Rebecca, Princess Kristina and Gustav Adolph. Most of which were fairly modest. They also sold some nudes. Miss November of 1992 was quite popular. So were pictures from up-time, the Statue of Liberty, the Eiffel Tower, and others. They carried the plates with the press and had a few prints to show around. When someone wanted one, they printed it up using the printing press and supplies. They also had a pantograph and other tools.

  The picture of Becky was from her talk show in 1631. David remembered the show. He thought he might even remember the particular show. It was one where she was talking about how electric circuits worked and how dangerous they could be. But she was standing up and tracing a circuit so she had one arm up. And she was looking out of the picture with that serious, caring expression of hers. David told the guy to use the picture of Becky and maybe the Statue of Liberty.

  David was figuring the picture of Becky on the front of the bill and the picture of the Statue of Liberty on the back, but he didn't specify that. The bills were to be four up-timer standard inches by eleven standard inches. Mainly because at the moment they didn't have the equipment to make the detailed plates they would have preferred. And because they were going to need to print assurances on the bills. At least David thought they would. Unlike the American money, they would all have the same images on them, no matter the denomination.

  David got busy with other things, mostly having to do with getting the becky recognized as money on the currency exchanges in Grantville, Magdeburg, Venice, and Amsterdam. Well, Prague too. Nobody much outside Bohemia cared all that much about the Prague exchange, but Third Division was stationed in Bohemia just at the moment. David was pretty successful in the important places, but there were political complications in Prague.

  By the time he got back to the actual currency, it was way past too late to change anything. The image went long-ways. Becky was ten inches tall from the top of the torch she was holding aloft to the bottom of her gown. The gown was green but the face and arms were flesh tone. The hair was black and the headdress was golden as though her head was surrounded with a halo of golden flames. It was a work of art, especially since it had been done in just a week, from disparate parts of other images.

  And David Bartley had the sudden conviction that Rebecca Stearns was never going to forgive him for it. The general would probably like it, and if David knew Francisco Nasi-and he did-the financer/spy would be too busy laughing to take offence. But Rebecca herself? Well, David had only met her a few times but he had the impression of a basically private person. One who only ended up on the public stage when forced there. These, in their hundreds and thousands, would force her there in a way both more widespread and permanent than anything else he could think of.

  If the beckies lasted as a currency-and David was really starting to think that they might-then a dark-haired Jewish girl was about to become the embodiment of the German spirit. As soon as possible, David was going to send to Grantville and have one of the machine shops make up some good steel engraving plates with all the little curlicues that make forging more difficult. But they would use these as the model. And start collecting them up as the new ones came online. In the meantime, they used a four-step process of offset printing to print the bills and each bill was numbered. The bills would be forgeable, but not easily.

  ****

  "Captain Bartley. How did you get the contract for the winter uniforms for Third Division?"

  "It's complicated, Lieutenant Kappel."

  "It's an official request for information, Captain. I have to ask."

  David held up his hand. "I know, Lieutenant. Basically I agreed to take payment partially in beckies."

  "Beckies, sir!" Lieutenant Kappel's voice squeaked a bit.

  "You know and I know that since the change of governments a number of the army contracts have been shifted to the politically-connected sweat shops down near Hamburg."

  "I wouldn't call them sweat shops . . ."

  David looked at him. They were sweat shops worse than anything David had ever even heard of before the Ring of Fire. Though, according to the historians, not as bad as some in the nineteenth century had been in the old time line. Kappel's face got a little red and David snorted. "Kids working twelve an
d fourteen hour days in close quarters with bad air constitutes sweat shops in my book, Lieutenant. Also in the general's and, I'd wager a lot, in the emperor's. I know that they are trying to compete with the up-time produced equipment, but frankly that excuse doesn't impress me at all." David shrugged and got back to the point. "Anyway, to overcome the political influence of the self-styled Crown Loyalists, I had to make a bid that would really show the bias if it was rejected. Selling under cost would do it, but I'm not the sole owner of the business. Besides, that would be cheating."

  "There are legitimate suppliers out there, sir."

  "Yes, there are quite a few of them and they are mostly booked solid, which is why the sweat shops are still in business. Also, most of them will insist on American dollars. Like I told you, I'm taking partial payment in beckies.

  "Ten thousand winter uniforms in five sizes," David continued. "One pair of pants, two shirts, one set long underwear, one buff coat, one pair gloves, one pair mittens, one winter cap. One hundred dollars and one hundred fifty beckies per uniform set. Total order, one million dollars and one point five million beckies. Which, if this works, ought to be worth about one point four million American dollars, and if it doesn't will be worth bupkis. Some of my suppliers will take beckies on my say so, some won't. If this doesn't work, I'm going to be out about a million bucks. But that doesn't worry me. Do you want to know what does worry me, Lieutenant?"

  There was a noticeable hesitation before the lieutenant nodded.

  "What worries me, Lieutenant, is that the whole economic boom is based on faith in up-timer money and if that faith should be lost . . ." David shook his head. "Now, isn't that a thought to take to your dreams?

  "Anyway, I offered to take more than half the price in beckies. The nobles and muckity-mucks that have been issuing their own money all along want 'their friends' to take their money as partial payment. Their friends, the sweatshop owners, say not no, but hell no! Now the muckity-mucks are pissed and we get the contract. Understand, Lieutenant, this was all happening very fast while most of the legislature was in Berlin and the clerks who actually run things were trying to figure out which way to jump. While they were getting conflicting instructions from various people within Wettin's coalition. Anyway, shortly after they gave our company the contract, someone in the procurement office notices that they don't actually have any beckies."

  By now the lieutenant's eyes were wide. "What happened?"

  "They sent General Stearns a message asking for, well, demanding, really, one point five million beckies." David grinned again. "The general, who is in Prague and kind of busy, forwarded it to me. Who sent back a message saying that the Third Division would trade them beckies for USE dollars at a one-to-one basis. And that, Lieutenant, is when you got ordered here to investigate my morals and upbringing."

  "So the beckies were simply a scam to get the contract in place of bidders who offered lower bids?"

  "Who offered a lower bid, Lieutenant?" David asked. "Even counting the beckies at par with the dollar, $250 a uniform set is a fair price. If there was a bid lower than mine I'll wager it was a cost plus bid, with an estimated cost that was smoke and mirrors. Mine was a set price offer. If production costs are higher than estimated we take the hit, not the government. Likewise, if the beckies don't work out, I take the hit not the government. I'm not getting one point five million dollars for beckies. Third Division is. I'm the one holding the beckies."

  "So, what are you going to do with them?" Lieutenant Kappel asked. "The beckies, I mean?"

  "I'm going to spend them, Lieutenant," David said. "More precisely, I am going to invest them in local businesses. Businesses which need goods that the Exchange Corps Stores can provide."

  ****

  "With the Elbe frozen for the winter, it's actually cheaper to ship from Grantville," Johan said.

  "Talk about roundabout," Sergeant Beckmann said. "Upriver to the railhead at Barby, then by train to the Ring of Fire, by road to Zwickau and by mule path the last eighty miles or so to here."

  "And ninety percent of the cost and the risk is in the last eighty miles."

  "It's not that bad, Master David," Johan said. "The Fresno scrapers can be made by any blacksmith with the help of a carpenter or wagon maker and they have been. Roads have been improving all over Europe, probably even in Spain."

  David raised an eyebrow at the Spain bit, but he knew Johan was right in general. "All right, Johan, eighty percent . . . fifty percent. But only because we aren’t paying the duties and our supply trains are well-guarded."

  "There's a fair chance we'll be able to find a road path that takes us all the way."

  "I doubt it," David said. "Even a hundred yard gap between sections of good road and we have to switch to mule train. And that's what we'll end up using for the rest of the trip. We can't afford to have wagon trains sitting waiting for the mule trains. Or mule trains waiting for the wagon trains."

  "That might be the best solution. I mean if the gap is short. They probably already have the mule trains," Beckman said. "Heck fire, the mule trains are probably the reason for the gaps."

  "We'll know soon enough. I have people out scouting scraper routes," Johan said. Road improvements were spotty and trade shifted as this or that string of towns and villages improved, or didn't, their particular stretch of roads. "Scraper routes" were discussed in towns and taverns across Europe and wagons were starting to replace mule trains because they could go faster and carry more.

  In the State of Thuringia-Franconia and in Magdeburg Province, roads were up around the quality of 1900 roads in the old timeline. Mostly dirt, but wide enough for two wagons to pass each other and lots of towns had actual paved streets. In Saxony, not so much. The scrapers were there, but their use wasn't, as a rule, encouraged. Right on the border where good roads meant they could get goods in from Thuringia-Franconia, roads were pretty good. The farther you got from the border, the worse they got. But that wasn't consistent. Some little village would pound out a Fresno Scraper and there would be two little farming villages that were suddenly close enough to each other to support one another. The second village would rent the scraper and extend the road to a third village that had two roads leading to a fourth and fifth village. And without noticing they would produce a roundabout route between two towns.

  "Find us a route, Johan. For wagons the whole way if you can, for as much of the route as you can. And if you need some troops to encourage the locals to put their scrapers to work, that can be arranged."

  The beckies were already in circulation but sluggishly. They were pushed by the Third Division, not pulled by the locals. Money is a bit like rope-it works a whole lot better if it's pulled than if it's pushed. They needed the people in the area to seek out beckies like they would seek out good silver coins.

  ****

  "Radio message from Grantville, sir," Beckman said. "The wagons are on their way. Should be here in a few days."

  "Good enough. We'll have the grand opening of the Exchange Corps Superstore at Tetschen next weekend," David said. "That should give us time to get the store stocked. Have the printers print up a bunch of leaflets announcing the grand opening." David stood and proclaimed, "Send out the luring parties."

  ****

  "No, Goodman, we aren’t here to raid your village nor to buy your goods with IOUs on the USE government," the sergeant said in a bored tone. He was with the Hangman Regiment, TDY to the Exchange Corps and by now this was old hat to him. He and his squad had done it yesterday and the day before. They came riding into a village, handed out the advertising flyers and the pamphlets explaining what the Exchange Corps was in the market for. That the Superstore was opening in the castle at Tetschen. And that, no, he really didn't care if the villagers went to the opening or not. "Look here, my good man, I'm with the Hangman Regiment. We don't rape or pillage, we hang them that do. All I'm here for is to deliver the pamphlets. But it's going to be one heck of a party at the grand opening. They've a whole big store
full of goods from Grantville. And we're letting all the villages in the area know that it's happening, so there ought to be a lot of folks who come just to see the place. Truth to tell, it's worth the seeing."

  "But we have no money, Sergeant," the village elder whined.

  The sergeant didn't whack the old man upside the head, though he was a bit tempted. This one had a particularly grating whine. "I'm not surprised," the sergeant said instead. "That’s what this little booklet here is for. The Exchange Corps buys grain and cheese and, well, all those goods listed there. It pays in good beckies that you can spend at the superstore."

  "What happens if we don't go?" the old man asked.

  "You miss a good party." The sergeant shrugged. "It's all the same to me, Gramps."

  ****

  They came! Mostly out of curiosity but they came.

  Jeff Higgins, who had seen real super stores up-time was not impressed. David, whose memory of such places was getting pretty vague by now, was not really impressed. Even the old Grantville hands were less than overwhelmed. But to the villagers around Tetschen who were looking at the first vise-grips and bearing sets, canned apples, and freeze-dried mushrooms they'd ever seen? Looking at wood lathes, stamp presses, plows and even a steam tractor? They were impressed.

  Not for sale, that steam tractor. It was the showroom model and you could order one. Which would get there when it got there. On the other hand, there was a guy that gave rides on it, showing all and sundry how it would pull a plow better than a team of eight horses. And do the same for a Fresno scraper.

  The not-subtle theme of the whole event, even of the superstore itself, was an advertisement for beckies. How much is a becky worth? Well, twenty of them will buy a pair of vise-grips; it's marked on the shelf where the vise-grips are. One becky will buy a package of twenty two-inch nails. A steam tractor will be your village's if you can come up with 20,000 beckies. Eventually. A first quality wood lathe, 300 beckies. A real angora sweater, 200 beckies. For 400 beckies, you can get a Partow washing machine and wash your clothes in comfort while toning your legs, rather than breaking your back. The prices were also marked in USE dollars and the price in beckies was generally a bit better than in USE dollars. That two hundred becky angora sweater, for instance, cost 215 USE dollars. The twenty-pack of nails was one becky or one dollar.