As an answer, they offered him a cocktail, which convinced him immediately that he was dealing with decent human beings and not gangsters with drawn revolvers. Several of the relatively peaceful reporters began attacking each other with their fists under the increasing influence of the downright indescribably exquisite cocktails. They accused each other of having copied certain reports and articles and having sold them under their own names.
At that exact moment, Aslan appeared through a door that had been completely overlooked. A uniformed servant opened the door, bowing deeply. Aslan entered with a smile that two reporters—male, of course, not female—described as “otherworldly.”
To magnify the effect of her entrance, she remained standing in the open doorway for several seconds. Her large, dark eyes swept across those in attendance so cleverly that each reporter thought she had looked at them and no one else. As if everyone had turned to stone, deathly silence fell in the room. After the earsplitting clamor and chatter, its effect was uncanny.
Then thunderous applause exploded. Nodding to all sides and maintaining her veiled, secretive Mona Lisa smile, Aslan stepped into the room. She was surrounded by seventy sensationalist producers and libel inventors, who held their notebooks, pencils, and pens as if God had appeared in a cloud to declare new commandments.
Mr. Talker, of the gossip and smear column, moved so close to Aslan that he could cleverly press against her curves without her noticing, due to the pressure of the crowd.
Mr. Barker, however, observed this cheap move by Talker and later said to him when they were alone: “Your specialty is the touch maneuver?”
“We all do what we can,” Talker answered, “and if you wait too long to do things in life, you won’t ever be happy.”
“Talker, you are such a pig,” said Barker.
Talker pursed his lips and grunted: “Pig or not. That’s just a name. A pig is more decent than a human being if you ask me.”
Cruel fate had made a hotel waiter out of the dignified descendant of a count. The latter presented Aslan with a silver tray, bowing so gallantly that she had only to lift her fingertips slightly to take a glass.
Aslan lifted her filled glass and glanced around the room. She lightly toasted the reporter who stood closest and downed her entire drink. The aristocratic gentleman, who looked more dignified than all of the reporters present taken together, approached Aslan and passed her the tray in such a way that she had only to open her fingers this time and the glass slid onto the surface.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press.” Aslan now addressed her guests in such a calm voice that it appeared as though she spoke in front of such crowds daily. “Ladies and gentlemen, the information I wish to pass on to you is short, clear, and definite. As some of you might know, I am president of the recently registered Atlantic-Pacific Transit Corporation. In addition, you might know that due to the number of shares I own, I have decision-making influence on the plans and activities of said corporation and intend to make more use of this than ever. Based on my proposal, the corporation has decided to build a canal that is to connect the Atlantic Ocean across the North American continent with the Pacific Ocean. This canal will make the Panama Canal redundant, at least where the United States is concerned. I would like to invite everyone interested in our project, whether they are Americans or not, to participate morally and financially by supporting this plan, which is necessary and useful for the common good. Ladies and gentlemen of the press, that is all I have to say. I thank you for your kind attention—please enjoy your cocktails. Thank you very much!”
With those words, Aslan disappeared soundlessly and unexpectedly. The reporters stared at one another in astonishment. The photographers grew antsy when they realized that they had forgotten to take photos of Aslan. Everything had happened too fast, because everyone had been busy thinking about whom Aslan would name as her fiancé.
Three men jumped acrobatically to the door, tore it open, and yelled after her: “And the engagement? When is the wedding? Who is the lucky guy, Miss Norval?”
Miss Norval was already sitting in a taxi that was driving away at that very moment.
10.
Aslan’s name and her canal project ran in capital letters across the front pages of the evening and morning papers. Several articles reported on Aslan’s project. Up until now only a great catastrophe with hundreds of victims would have managed to get as much attention from the media.
For six consecutive days, one could not read anything about a rebellion in the Ukraine, nothing about the impending overthrow of a man named Khrushchev, about a conspiracy against the Egyptian prime minister, nor about Mexican student unrest influenced by Russian spies. One could not find anything about a supposed sighting of a Russian submarine fifty miles off the coast of New York, nothing about workers’ unrest in Poland, Latvia, Hungary, and East Germany, artificially spurred on by fascist traitors, nothing about the unavoidable collapse of China, nor about the American president’s cold, which shook the New York Stock Exchange.
Instead, the newspapers had something incredibly important to report, something tangible, something utterly useful, even if it seemed quixotic at first, which excited the readers even more. For a week, the newspaper directors forgot to sling mud at other countries and their governments for daring to have different opinions and for cultivating their land as they saw fit.
Letters addressed to the very honorable editor flooded the newspaper agencies. Half of the letter writers declared Aslan’s idea crazy and demanded that the authorities commit her to a psychiatric institution immediately to prevent further spawning of her delusions. The other half praised Aslan as the twentieth century’s most notable genius, whose plan had to be implemented immediately, preferably tomorrow, even if it were to push the United States into bankruptcy. All week, the newspapers discussed the pros and cons as well as the feasibility of the project. The initial result was an increasing demand for APTC shares. While the canal project captured the public’s imagination, the daily reports prophesying the political and economic collapse of the U.S.S.R. stopped, as if they had died of old age.
During the next board meeting, Aslan proposed to increase capital by another billion dollars and to issue a second set of shares on the market. She was sure, she assured the board, that the shares would sell like hotcakes.
“Isn’t that a little risky, Miss Norval?” asked the banker, Mr. Brady.
“Not at all, Mr. Brady. If General Motors could successfully expand their program by a billion dollars six years ago, then we can do the same thing.”
“Don’t forget General Motors has immense assets, Miss Norval.”
“I am not forgetting that. However, you must admit that not all assets are material. An invention is also a real asset. We can realize our idea with energy and unshakable determination.”
The board approved Aslan’s proposal unanimously. The newspapers took note of the board’s decision, of course, and as Aslan had expected, the canal project again received much public attention.
Up to that point, no expert had determined with certainty whether building such a canal was even feasible. What’s more, it was unclear how the company was to obtain the many billions of dollars necessary for the construction of such a long and wide canal. Certain circles, motivated by envy and self-interest, tried to stop the project. They saw the lack of satisfactory answers to these questions as an opportunity to launch a smear campaign. In tactful but no uncertain terms, they accused the APTC of fraud against their shareholders.
But to their surprise, no one sold their shares. It is safe to say that this was proof of the shareholders’ belief in the feasibility of the project. Therefore, APTC’s enemies had to employ rougher methods for bringing down the company. An unscrupulous pack of lobbyists served their purposes. Usually they loitered in the antechambers, cafeterias, hallways, barbershops, and restrooms of the Senate and House, to whisper lies and rumors into the ears of representatives and senators. They managed to get the Senate to deal with the matter of the APTC, as the company had to request permission to issue a new series of shares in the amount of one billion dollars.