"Mr. Stone is here, " said the computer on his desk. Pearson dropped a half-eaten candy bar in a drawer, closed the drawer, and said, "Send him in."
The young man entered, advanced with his hand out.
His grip was firm, but Pearson felt a curious cold sensation.
"Sit down, Mr. Stone, and tell me how First Boston can help you."
Stone sat in the visitor's chair and put his curious hat on his knee. "Mr. Pearson, thank you for seeing me. Did Mr. Schoenstein tell you anything about my problem?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, he said you want to organize a project to put the whole human race in a box."
"That's right, and I talked to some architects, they say they can design it, but before I can go any farther I have to get funding. Mr. Schoenstein says his bank isn't big enough, so that's why I came to you."
"I understand. What do you estimate the cost of this project might be?"
"Well, Mr. Chang said he thought about two trillion dollars."
"Um-hm. Now, Mr. Stone, you realize we are an investment bank. Ordinarily, when we lend money, we want to know what the return is going to be."
"Yes, I know that. I've tried to figure out how you could make money out of this, but the only thing I can think of is to charge admission."
"To visit the project, do you mean?"
"Well, that too, probably, but I was thinking, if everybody who got in the box had to pay something? I mean, if it costs two trillion dollars and there are six billion people, that's only about three hundred bucks apiece."
Pearson picked up a scriber and twirled it between his fingers. "I see one difficulty with this. If that idea works out, and I don't see why it shouldn't, the bank will have its money back, but there won't be anybody left to operate the bank, or anything to invest the money in."
"Well, that's true."
"I mean, everybody is going to be in the box. By the way, how will they breathe in there?"
"They're going to be in suspended animation."
"Oh, I see. Like the Egyptians?"
"I guess."
"Well, fine. Now, from what you tell me, I think this proposal should go to the International Development Association. McNevin Fairbairn is the man to see, and he's in town now. I'll give him a call if you like and set up an appointment.''
"That would be swell. Mr. Pearson, one other problem I have is money. For myself, I mean. I've been borrowing from people, but then I have to borrow more to pay them back, and Mr. Schoenstein said what I ought to do is ask you for a line of credit."
"Well, that could be arranged, certainly. How much do you think you'd need?"
"I'd like to have enough so I could travel, and stay in hotels and so forth, until this project gets started, but I don't know how much to ask for."
"Well. When the project is funded, I imagine you'll have an official position and a salary. But I see the difficulty until then. Suppose we set you up for two years to start with, say a million four? Does that sound all right?"
Stone swallowed. "Yes, sir. I can't get used to these numbers."
"Well, you'll find it gets easier as you go along."
CHAPTER 11
From his high-rise office overlooking UN Plaza, McNevin Fairbairn could observe humanity at a convenient distance; the swarm in the plaza at certain hours was rather like an ant farm. The holomaps on the walls gave him an even more Olympian view: here was South America, a patchwork of blue, green, yellow, and brown, and here was Africa in the same colors, with flags for national capitals, per capita income, infant mortality, rollover on delinquent debt, and so on.
Fairbairn, a man in his late forties, had got where he was by hard work, application, diligence, and the wise counsel of two uncles high in the federal government. His department was running smoothly, and his workload was really not onerous, but he remained in his office for seven hours every weekday, because on the whole this was where he was happiest.
"Mr. Stone," he said to his oddly dressed visitor, "you may not realize that the IDA does not initiate projects. We merely arrange for loans from our member banks to foreign governments for projects we deem in the global interest. Now, unofficially, we might suggest this or that, but the formal proposals must come from governments. Now I think the best thing to do would be to go to Washington, drum up some support there and get whatever U.S. funding you can. Once you have that, you see, it will be much easier to go to other governments, get them interested, and at that point the IDA could become involved."
"Yes, sir, I see now. This thing is a lot more complicated than I realized."
"Well, you'll soon catch on. Let me just see if I can get you appointments with one or two people in the legislature." He addressed the computer. "Flossie, will you call Senator Givens's office and see if you can set up an appointment tomorrow for a protege of mine, Mr. Ed Stone? And then try the Speaker, and, let's see, Senator Whelk and Congressperson Yamada?"
"Yes, sir."
"Givens is one of the most influential men on the Hill," Fairbairn explained. "He has the ear of the President, and if he likes you, he can do you a lot of good in the Senate. Now in the House-"
"Ten o'clock tomorrow for Senator Givens," said the computer. "The Speaker is out of town, but he can see Mr. Stone Monday at three. I'm still trying the other two."
"Thank you, Flossie."
"Does that thing work all by itself?" Stone asked.
"I don't know what you mean."
"I mean, is it a kind of robot?"
"Yes, I suppose so. A robot. I hadn't thought of that."
The door opened; a young woman walked into the office, smiled at Stone, and laid a folder on Fairbairn's desk. "The Nicaragua summary," she said.
"That's splendid, Linda. Oh, I want you to meet Ed Stone. Linda Lavalle, our assistant project review manager for South America." Stone, who had risen, shook her hand. "Ed has an international project that he's trying to get funding for. He wants to build a big box and put the whole human race in it."
"That sounds - interesting. Well, good-bye, Mr. Stone. Lots of luck with your project." She turned to go.
"Listen, if you'd like to know more about it, maybe we could have lunch?"
Ms. Lavalle looked bewildered. "Well, I've got a lotto do this afternoon. I was going to eat at my desk. Maybe tomorrow?"
"I'm sorry, I have to be in Washington tomorrow. It's my birthday, too, but this is more important. What about dinner Saturday?"
"I have a- No, never mind. Dinner would be fine. Where are you going to be staying?"
"The Netherland, but I could pick you up wherever you say."
"No, your hotel is all right. About seven-thirty?"
"Sure. Listen, I don't know the restaurants here. Could you pick one out?"
"I suppose so. All right, seven-thirty Saturday, then."
When she was gone, Fairbairn said with a smile, "You work fast, Mr. Stone."
"I have to. Thanks for everything."
"A pleasure. I mean that sincerely."
Linda Lavalle told her roommate, "I met this guy in the office today. His name is Ed Stone. He asked me out Saturday night, and I said yes."
"You did? What's Julian going to say?"
"I don't know. I don't know what I want him to say."
Sylvia poured the cocktails. "This must be some extra kind of a guy, right?"