The Adventurer

by C. M. Kornbluth

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  THE Adventurer

  BY C. M. KORNBLUTH

  ILLUSTRATED BY FREAS

  For every evil under the sun, there's an answer. It may be a simple, direct answer; it may be one that takes years, and seems unrelated to the problem. But there's an answer--of a kind....

  President Folsom XXIV said petulantly to his Secretary of the Treasury:"Blow me to hell, Bannister, if I understood a single word of that._Why_ can't I buy the Nicolaides Collection? And don't start with therediscount and the Series W business again. Just tell me _why_."

  The Secretary of the Treasury said with an air of apprehension and athread-like feeling across his throat: "It boils down to--no money, Mr.President."

  The President was too engrossed in thoughts of the marvelous collectionto fly into a rage. "It's _such_ a bargain," he said mournfully. "Anarchaic Henry Moore figure--really too big to finger, but I'm noculture-snob, thank God--and fifteen early Morrisons and I can't beginto tell you what else." He looked hopefully at the Secretary of PublicOpinion: "Mightn't I seize it for the public good or something?"

  The Secretary of Public Opinion shook his head. His pose was grufflyprofessional. "Not a chance, Mr. President. We'd never get away with it.The art-lovers would scream to high Heaven."

  "I suppose so.... _Why_ isn't there any money?" He had swiveleddangerously on the Secretary of the Treasury again.

  "Sir, purchases of the new Series W bond issue have lagged badly becausepotential buyers have been attracted to--"

  "Stop it, stop it, _stop_ it! You know I can't make head or tail of thatstuff. Where's the money _going_?"

  The Director of the Budget said cautiously: "Mr. President, during thebiennium just ending, the Department of Defense accounted for 78 percent of expenditures--"

  The Secretary of Defense growled: "Now wait a minute, Felder! We werevoted--"

  The President interrupted, raging weakly: "Oh, you rascals! My fatherwould have known what to do with you! But don't think I can't handle it._Don't_ think you can hoodwink me." He punched a button ferociously; hissilly face was contorted with rage and there was a certain tension onall the faces around the Cabinet table.

  Panels slid down abruptly in the walls, revealing grim-faced SecretServicemen. Each Cabinet officer was covered by at least two automaticrifles.

  "Take that--that traitor away!" the President yelled. His finger pointedat the Secretary of Defense, who slumped over the table, sobbing. TwoSecret Servicemen half-carried him from the room.

  President Folsom XXIV leaned back, thrusting out his lower lip. He toldthe Secretary of the Treasury: "_Get_ me the money for the NicolaidesCollection. Do you understand? I don't care how you do it. _Get_ it." Heglared at the Secretary of Public Opinion. "Have you any comments?"

  "No, Mr. President."

  "All right, then." The President unbent and said plaintively: "I don'tsee why you can't all be more reasonable. I'm a very reasonable man.I don't see why I can't have a few pleasures along with myresponsibilities. Really I don't. And I'm sensitive. I don't _like_these scenes. Very well. That's all. The Cabinet meeting is adjourned."

  They rose and left silently in the order of their seniority. ThePresident noticed that the panels were still down and pushed the buttonthat raised them again and hid the granite-faced Secret Servicemen. Hetook out of his pocket a late Morrison fingering-piece and turned itover in his hand, a smile of relaxation and bliss spreading over hisface. _Such_ amusing textural contrast! _Such_ unexpected variations onthe classic sequences!

  * * * * *

  The Cabinet, less the Secretary of Defense, was holding a rump meetingin an untapped corner of the White House gymnasium.

  "God," the Secretary of State said, white-faced. "Poor old Willy!"

  The professionally gruff Secretary of Public Opinion said: "We shouldmurder the bastard. I don't care what happens--"

  The Director of the Budget said dryly: "We all know what would happen.President Folsom XXV would take office. No; we've got to keep pluggingas before. Nothing short of the invincible can topple the Republic...."

  "What about a war?" the Secretary of Commerce demanded fiercely. "We'veno proof that our program will work. What about a war?"

  State said wearily: "Not while there's a balance of power, my dear man.The Io-Callisto Question proved that. The Republic and the Soviet fellall over themselves trying to patch things up as soon as it seemed thatthere would be real shooting. Folsom XXIV and his excellency PremierYersinsky know at least that much."

  The Secretary of the Treasury said: "What would you all think of Steinerfor Defense?"

  The Director of the Budget was astonished. "Would he take it?"

  Treasury cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, I've asked him tostop by right about now." He hurled a medicine ball into the budgetarygut.

  "Oof!" said the Director. "You bastard. Steiner would be perfect. Heruns Standards like a watch." He treacherously fired the medicine ballat the Secretary of Raw Materials, who blandly caught it and slammed itback.

  "Here he comes," said the Secretary of Raw Materials. "Steiner! Come andsweat some oleo off!"

  Steiner ambled over, a squat man in his fifties, and said: "I don't mindif I do. Where's Willy?"

  State said: "The President unmasked him as a traitor. He's probably beenexecuted by now."

  Steiner looked grim, and grimmer yet when the Secretary of the Treasurysaid, dead-pan: "We want to propose you for Defense."

  "I'm happy in Standards," Steiner said. "Safer, too. The Man's fathertook an interest in science, but The Man never comes around. Things arevery quiet. Why don't you invite Winch, from the National ArtCommission? It wouldn't be much of a change for the worse for him."

  "No brains," the Secretary for Raw Materials said briefly. "Heads up!"

  Steiner caught the ball and slugged it back at him. "What good arebrains?" he asked quietly.

  "Close the ranks, gentlemen," State said. "These long shots are too hardon my arms."

  The ranks closed and the Cabinet told Steiner what good were brains. Heended by accepting.

  * * * * *

  The Moon is all Republic. Mars is all Soviet. Titan is all Republic.Ganymede is all Soviet. But Io and Callisto, by the Treaty of Greenwich,are half-and-half Republic and Soviet.

  Down the main street of the principal settlement on Io runs an invisibleline. On one side of the line, the principal settlement is known as NewPittsburgh. On the other side it is known as Nizhni-Magnitogorsk.

  Into a miner's home in New Pittsburgh one day an eight-year-old boynamed Grayson staggered, bleeding from the head. His eyes were swollenalmost shut.

  His father lurched to his feet, knocking over a bottle. He lookedstupidly at the bottle, set it upright too late to save much of thealcohol, and then stared fixedly at the boy. "See what you made me do,you little bastard?" he growled, and fetched the boy a clout on hisbleeding head that sent him spinning against the wall of the hut. Theboy got up slowly and silently--there seemed to be something wrong withhis left arm--and glowered at his father.

  He said nothing.

  "Fighting again," the father said, in a would-be fierce voice. His eyesfell under the peculiar fire in the boy's stare. "Damn fool--"

  A woman came in from the kitchen. She was tall and thin. In a flat voiceshe said to the man: "Get out of here." The man hiccupped and said:"Your brat spilled my bottle. Gimme a dollar."

  In the same flat voice: "I have to buy food."

  "_I said gimme a dollar!_" The man slapped her face--it did notchange--and wrenched a small purse from the string that suspended itaround her neck. The bo
y suddenly was a demon, flying at his father withfists and teeth. It lasted only a second or two. The father kicked himinto a corner where he lay, still glaring, wordless and dry-eyed. Themother had not moved; her husband's handmark was still red on her facewhen he hulked out, clutching the money bag.

  Mrs. Grayson at last crouched in the corner with the eight-year-old boy."Little Tommy," she said softly. "My little Tommy! Did you cross theline again?"

  He was blubbering in her arms, hysterically, as she caressed him. Atlast he was able to say: "I didn't