"Yes, yes. I know that and we are already a half a billion on our way to it. But I'm scared to death. The quantities we buy are so big. If we ever missed, we'd be wiped out. I go have nightmares every night that this will turn into another Atlantic City!"
Oh, I hoped it would! This scene was giving me chills! Half a billion? That was almost twice what I had! Money is power and with enough money, Heller could succeed! All this had been going on, like an avalanche roaring at me down the mountainside, while I was just peacefully whistling.
"Be calm, Izzy," said Heller. "Be calm. Here, come with me. I've been meaning to show you because I can't be here all the time and you'll have to know how to do it."
They walked through the throng of hurrying people. Heller stopped before a blank door and took out a key. "This is the spare office I asked you to give me last month. Now, don't start screeching that I have ruined the decor or something, because I can patch up the holes in the wall and the floor and nobody will know the difference."
They went in. Heller locked the door behind him.
It was a very wide office now because some of the partitions or internal divisions had been removed and were stacked up over at the side.
A huge, long sheet of slate covered the entire far wall. It had white columns painted on it. At the tops of these columns were "Wheat," "Corn," "Soybeans," "Cattle," etc., etc.-all the various things sold on the commodity markets in terms of futures. Under each was a column of figures, very large. Over to the left were columns of times and months of contracts.
Along the far right wall, a set of ticker-tape machines stood chattering away, spewing out tape.
A stack of newspapers littered a desk.
Close to the wall opposite the huge slate stood a contraption that looked like it was built of armor steel. It had a padlock on the back and Heller unlocked it and opened the door. The time-sight!
Heller stuck his eye to the eyepiece and twiddled a side knob. I couldn't make out the numbers but they seemed to be future numbers on the slate up to, perhaps, thirty hours. At least that was what the digital in the frame was spitting as time.
"Izzy," said Heller. "This is very confidential. The public must not get possession of these. It's a navigational time-sight." "A what?"
"It reads the future," said Heller. "Right now, if that board is kept up daily, this device reads the future of that board. You can see what it will be reading this afternoon or tomorrow at specific times. It reads whatever is put on the board in the future."
"Magic!" said Izzy in tones of horror. "Divination! Oy!"
"No, no," said Heller. "It's just a machine, an invention. Look into the eyepiece."
"Never!" said Izzy. "Black magic! Necromancy! My mother would never forgive me. My rabbi would go into shock! He'd revoke my bar mitzvah! One must never touch magic! Moses would roll in his grave fast enough to turn the Red Sea into buttermilk!"
"Izzy" said Heller, "it has nothing to do with magic. It's just that time is the dominant factor in this universe and forms the positions of matter in space. The machine simply operates on a feedback."
Izzy was shuddering back, afraid of his future chances in Heaven.
Heller said, "All it's reading right now is future dollar marks."
"Dollar marks?" said Izzy.
"Correct and direct," said Heller.
"Well, that puts a different value on it," said Izzy.
Heller said, "Izzy, I have to come in here twice a day and chalk up the whole board, using the data from those machines. If I get busy on something else, we lose out. I also have to read the sight and figure out what to buy and sell. And you, with your business administration knowledge, would be much better at it than I am. You could probably make the setup grind out twice as much as I do."
"You mean we would make a billion a month?"
"Whatever you say," said Heller.
"How do you operate the machine?" said Izzy.
"Well, I can't demonstrate that until you take an Oath of State Secrecy. The Fleet is very touchy about these."
Izzy promptly raised his right hand.
"No," said Heller. "Put your hand on your heart."
Izzy did.
Heller said, "Repeat after me: 'I do hereby solemnly acknowledge that I have been entrusted...' "
Izzy did.
Heller continued, "'... with a secret of state and swear never hereafter to impart its portent or content in any way whatsoever...'"
Izzy repeated it.
Heller went on, "'...to any unauthorized person, even under the threat or fact of torture or extinction.'"
Izzy repeated that with his eyes a bit round behind his glasses.
Heller continued, " 'And should I violate this oath, I hereby surrender all my rights and privileges as a citizen, my rank as an officer and my name as an individual.' "
Looking a bit white, Izzy did so.
Heller concluded, " 'Long Live His Majesty!'"
Izzy looked at him, cocking his head over oddly. I knew what had happened. Heller was so used to simply spilling out the Oath of State Secrecy he had overrun it accidentally.
Izzy said, "Long Live His Majesty?"
"Correct!" said Heller, hurriedly. "Now I can show you how to operate this."
"His Majesty?" said Izzy. "Then it is black magic after all. You made me take an oath to Satan, the King of the Nether Regions!"
I hurriedly grabbed a pen. Heller was skidding right on into an outright Code break. He'd have to tell Izzy now that he was an extraterrestrial, a Royal officer of the Voltar Fleet and a subject of the Emperor, Cling the Lofty.
But instead, Heller replied, "Of course. Isn't it said that money is the root of all evil?"
Izzy thought that over. He nodded. "How do you run the sight?" he said.
I threw down my pen in disgust. Heller was getting too knowledgeable about this planet!
Heller was showing him, in some detail. Izzy, looking through the eyepiece, said, "Wait. Look at those pork bellies! The March contract will go down to thirty-four, the lowest I've ever seen them. Hurry, Mr. Jet. Finish showing me. I can sell them short in the next half hour and make three hundred thousand dollars!
Pork bellies will really get us out of the mud today!"
I mourned. Now, with Izzy's expertise on commodity futures, the money would roll in!
I turned my attention to the Countess Krak. With Heller making money absolutely at will with the time-sight on the commodity market, she mightn't use her credit card. MY credit card.
Yikes! She wasn't in the fur shop now. She was in an auto salesroom-Porsche!
A huge sign said:
Who Cares about the Cost
When You Can Ride in Foreign Luxury?
A salesman was bustling up to her. She was looking at a sparkling blue Porsche 1002 coupe.
"Do you have any disposable cars?" said the Countess Krak. "We won't be on the planet very long."
The salesman caught his breath. He, however, was up to it, (bleep) him. He said, "Oh, yes, miss. Disposable cars? That one right there."
She regarded it thoughtfully.
"It's eighty-five thousand dollars," said the salesman. "It's turbocharged for track and street. It's the fastest thing in America. Its slalom is 8.0 seconds, five-speed box, overhead cams..."
"I'll take it," said the Countess Krak. "It matches the color of his eyes."
"Time payment?" said the salesman.
"Oh, no. He had a sort of birthday a month ago and the present was a bust. So I'll want the car right away. Tie a nice blue ribbon around it and send it over. And just put it on this Squeeza credit card."
I was frantic.
I had to act.
In a blur of action, I made up my mind.