Read Online Man Who Sold the Moon / Orphans of the Sky by Robert A. Heinlein - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert A. Heinlein
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suppose all this labor trouble in the plant worries him, too.”
“Of course it does. And since it dates from the time we started manufacturing the screens on a commercial scale, I’m sure it’s part of the frame-up. Dad never had any labor trouble before. He always ran a union shop and treated his men like members of his own family. I don’t blame him for being nervous. I’m getting tired of being followed everywhere I go, myself. It makes me jumpy.”
Mary Lou puffed out a cloud of smoke. “I’ve been tailed the past couple of weeks.”
“The heck you have! Mary Lou, that tears it. I’m going to settle this thing today.”
“Going to sell out?”
“No.” He walked over to his desk, opened a side drawer, took out a .38 automatic, and slipped it in his pocket. Mary Lou jumped down from the bench and ran to him. She put her hands on his shoulders, and looked up at him, fear in her face.
“Archie!”
He answered gently. “Yes, kid.”
“Archie, don’t do anything rash. If anything happened to you, you know I couldn’t get along with a normal man.”
He patted her hair. “Those are the best words I’ve heard in weeks, kid.”
Douglas returned about one P.M. Mary Lou met him at the elevator. “Well?”
“Same old song-and-dance. Nothing done in spite of my brave promises.”
“Did they threaten you?”
“Not exactly. They asked me how much life insurance I carried.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Nothing. I reached for my handkerchief and let them see that I was carrying a gun. I thought it might cause them to revise any immediate plans they might have in mind. After that the interview sort of fizzled out and I left. Mary’s little lamb followed me home, as usual.”
“Same plug-ugly that shadowed you yesterday?”
“Him, or his twin. He couldn’t be a twin, though, come to think about it. They’d have both died of fright at birth.”
“True enough. Have you had lunch?”
“Not yet. Let’s ease down to the shop lunch room and take on some groceries. We can do our worrying later.”
The lunch room was deserted. They talked very little. Mary Lou’s blue eyes stared vacantly over his head. At the second cup of coffee she reached out and touched him.
“Relax—that’s what we’ve got to do.”
“Speak English.”
“I’ll give you a blueprint. Why are we under attack?”
“We’ve got something they want.”
“Not at all. We’ve got something they want to quarantine—they don’t want anyone else to have it. So they try to buy you off, or scare you into quitting. If these don’t work, they’ll try something stronger. Now you’re dangerous to them and in danger from them because you’ve got a secret. What happens if it isn’t a secret? Suppose everybody knows it?”
“They’d be sore as hell.”
“Yes, but what would they do? Nothing. Those big tycoons are practical men. They won’t waste a dime on heckling you if it no longer serves their pocketbooks.”
“What do you propose that we do?”
“Give away the secret. Tell the world how it’s done. Let anybody manufacture power screens and light screens who wants to. The heat process on the mix is so simple that any commercial chemist can duplicate it once you tell ’em how, and there must be a thousand factories, at least, that could manufacture them with their present machinery from materials at their very doorsteps.”
“But, good Lord, Mary Lou, we’d be left in the lurch.”
“What can you lose? We’ve made a measly couple of thousand dollars so far, keeping the process secret. If you turn it loose, you still hold the patent, and you charge a nominal royalty—one that it wouldn’t be worthwhile trying to beat, say ten cents a square yard on each screen manufactured. There would be millions of square yards turned out the first year—hundreds of thousands of dollars to you the first year, and big income for life. You can have the finest research laboratory in the country.”
He slammed his
“Of course it does. And since it dates from the time we started manufacturing the screens on a commercial scale, I’m sure it’s part of the frame-up. Dad never had any labor trouble before. He always ran a union shop and treated his men like members of his own family. I don’t blame him for being nervous. I’m getting tired of being followed everywhere I go, myself. It makes me jumpy.”
Mary Lou puffed out a cloud of smoke. “I’ve been tailed the past couple of weeks.”
“The heck you have! Mary Lou, that tears it. I’m going to settle this thing today.”
“Going to sell out?”
“No.” He walked over to his desk, opened a side drawer, took out a .38 automatic, and slipped it in his pocket. Mary Lou jumped down from the bench and ran to him. She put her hands on his shoulders, and looked up at him, fear in her face.
“Archie!”
He answered gently. “Yes, kid.”
“Archie, don’t do anything rash. If anything happened to you, you know I couldn’t get along with a normal man.”
He patted her hair. “Those are the best words I’ve heard in weeks, kid.”
Douglas returned about one P.M. Mary Lou met him at the elevator. “Well?”
“Same old song-and-dance. Nothing done in spite of my brave promises.”
“Did they threaten you?”
“Not exactly. They asked me how much life insurance I carried.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Nothing. I reached for my handkerchief and let them see that I was carrying a gun. I thought it might cause them to revise any immediate plans they might have in mind. After that the interview sort of fizzled out and I left. Mary’s little lamb followed me home, as usual.”
“Same plug-ugly that shadowed you yesterday?”
“Him, or his twin. He couldn’t be a twin, though, come to think about it. They’d have both died of fright at birth.”
“True enough. Have you had lunch?”
“Not yet. Let’s ease down to the shop lunch room and take on some groceries. We can do our worrying later.”
The lunch room was deserted. They talked very little. Mary Lou’s blue eyes stared vacantly over his head. At the second cup of coffee she reached out and touched him.
“Relax—that’s what we’ve got to do.”
“Speak English.”
“I’ll give you a blueprint. Why are we under attack?”
“We’ve got something they want.”
“Not at all. We’ve got something they want to quarantine—they don’t want anyone else to have it. So they try to buy you off, or scare you into quitting. If these don’t work, they’ll try something stronger. Now you’re dangerous to them and in danger from them because you’ve got a secret. What happens if it isn’t a secret? Suppose everybody knows it?”
“They’d be sore as hell.”
“Yes, but what would they do? Nothing. Those big tycoons are practical men. They won’t waste a dime on heckling you if it no longer serves their pocketbooks.”
“What do you propose that we do?”
“Give away the secret. Tell the world how it’s done. Let anybody manufacture power screens and light screens who wants to. The heat process on the mix is so simple that any commercial chemist can duplicate it once you tell ’em how, and there must be a thousand factories, at least, that could manufacture them with their present machinery from materials at their very doorsteps.”
“But, good Lord, Mary Lou, we’d be left in the lurch.”
“What can you lose? We’ve made a measly couple of thousand dollars so far, keeping the process secret. If you turn it loose, you still hold the patent, and you charge a nominal royalty—one that it wouldn’t be worthwhile trying to beat, say ten cents a square yard on each screen manufactured. There would be millions of square yards turned out the first year—hundreds of thousands of dollars to you the first year, and big income for life. You can have the finest research laboratory in the country.”
He slammed his
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