The Ghost of a Model T and Other Stories

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Authors: Clifford D. Simak
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consolation,” Packer told him. “Whatever is happening to you undoubtedly also is happening to your competitors.”
    â€œBut even if that were the case,” protested Hazlitt, “it would be no fun. What do you think a man goes into business for? To render service, to become identified with the commercial community, to make money only? No, sir, I tell you—it’s the thrill of skinning a competitor, of running the risk of losing your own shirt, of –”
    â€œAmen,” Packer said loudly.
    Hazlitt stared at him. “You, too …”
    â€œNot a chance,” said Packer proudly. “I’m every bit as big a rascal as I ever was.”
    Hazlitt settled back into his chair. His voice took on an edge, grew a trifle cold.
    â€œI had considered exposing you, warning the world, and then I saw I couldn’t …”
    â€œOf course you can’t,” said Packer gruffly. “You don’t enjoy being laughed at. You are the kind of man who can’t stand the thought of being laughed at.”
    â€œWhat’s your game, Packer?”
    â€œMy game?”
    â€œYou introduced the stuff. You must have known what it would do. And yet you say you are unaffected by it. What are you shooting at—gobbling up the entire planet?”
    Packer whuffled. “I hadn’t thought of it,” he said. “But it’s a capital idea.”
    He rose stiffly to his feet. “Little old for it,” he said. “But I have a few years yet. And I’m in the best of fettle. Haven’t felt –”
    â€œYou were going out,” said Hazlitt, rising. “I’ll not detain you.”
    â€œI thank you, sir,” said Packer. “I noticed that there was a moon and I was going for a stroll. You wouldn’t join me, would you?”
    â€œI have more important things to do, Packer, than strolling in the moonlight.”
    â€œI have no doubt of that,” said Packer, bowing slightly. “You would, of course, an upright, honest business man like you.”
    Hazlitt slammed the door as he went out.
    Packer padded back to the bedroom, took up the tie again.
    Hazlitt an honest man, he thought. And how many other honest men this night? And a year from now—how many honest men in the whole wide world just one year from now? How long before the entire Earth would be an honest Earth? With spores lurking in the cracks and floating in the air and running with the rivers, it might not take so long.
    Maybe that was the reason Tony hadn’t skinned him yet. Maybe Tony was getting honest, too. Too bad, thought Packer, gravely. Tony wouldn’t be half as interesting if he should happen to turn honest.
    And the government? A government that had come begging for the spores—begging to be honest, although to be completely fair one must admit the government as yet did not know about the honesty.
    That was a hot one, Packer told himself. An honest government! And it would serve those stinkers right! He could see the looks upon their faces.
    He gave up the business of the tie and sat down on the bed and shook for minutes with rumbling belly laughter.
    At last he wiped the tears out of his eyes and finished with the tie.
    Tomorrow morning, bright and early, he’d get in touch with Griffin and arrange the package deal for the stamp material. He’d act greedy and drive a hard bargain and then, in the end, pay a bit more than the price agreed upon for a long-term arrangement. An honest government, he told himself, would be too honest to rescind such an agreement even if, in the light of its new honesty, it should realize the wrongness of it. For, happily, one of the tenets of honesty was to stay stuck with a bad bargain, no matter how arrived at.
    He shucked into his jacket and went into the living room. He stopped at the desk and opened the drawer. Reaching in, he lifted the lid of the box of leaf. He took a pinch and had it halfway to his

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