Transcriber’s Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy December 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
Corrections are indicated by a dotted underline, like this.
Here is a modern tale of aninner-directed sorcerer andan outer-directed sorcerer’sapprentice … a tale of—
Illustrated by WOOD
“Come on, Gussy,” Fay proddedquietly, “quit stalkingaround like a neurotic bear andsuggest something for my inventionteam to work on. I enjoyvisiting you and Daisy, but Ican’t stay aboveground all night.”
“If being outside the sheltersmakes you nervous, don’t comearound any more,” Gustersontold him, continuing to stalk.“Why doesn’t your inventionteam think of something to invent?Why don’t you? Hah!” Inthe “Hah!” lay triumphant condemnationof a whole way of life.
“We do,” Fay responded imperturbably,“but a fresh viewpoint sometimes helps.”
“I’ll say it does! Fay, you burglar,I’ll bet you’ve got twentypeople like myself you milk forfree ideas. First you irritate theirbark and then you make therounds every so often to draw offthe latex or the maple gloop.”
Fay smiled. “It ought to pleaseyou that society still has a usefor you outre inner-directedtypes. It takes something to makea junior executive stay abovegroundafter dark, when the missilesare on the prowl.”
“Society can’t have much usefor us or it’d pay us something,”Gusterson sourly asserted, staringblankly at the tankless TVand kicking it lightly as hepassed on.
“No, you’re wrong about that,Gussy. Money’s not the key goadwith you inner-directeds. I gotthat straight from our Motivationschief.”
“Did he tell you what weshould use instead to pay the grocer?A deep inner sense ofachievement, maybe? Fay, whyshould I do any free thinking forMicro Systems?”
“I’ll tell you why, Gussy. Simplybecause you get a kick out ofinsulting us with sardonic ideas.If we take one of them seriously,you think we’re degrading ourselves,and that pleases you evenmore. Like making someonelaugh at a lousy pun.”
Gusterson held still in hisroaming and grinned. “Thatthe reason, huh? I suppose mysuggestions would have to besomething in the line of ultra-subminiaturizedcomputers,where one sinister fine-etchedmolecule does the work of threebig bumbling brain cells?”
“Not necessarily. Micro Systemsis branching out. Wheel asfree as a rogue star. But I’ll passalong to Promotion your onemolecule-three brain cell sparkler.It’s a slight exaggeration,but it’s catchy.”
“I’ll have my kids watch yourads to see if you use it and thenI’ll sue the whole underworld.”Gusterson frowned as he resumedhis stalking. He stared puzzledlyat the antique TV. “How aboutinventing a plutonium termite?”he said suddenly. “It would getrid of those stockpiles that areworrying you moles to death.”
Fay grimaced noncommittallyand cocked his head.
“Well, then, how about abeauty mask? How about that,hey? I don’t mean one to repaira woman’s complexion, but oneshe’d wear all the time that’dmake her look like a 17-year-oldsexpot. That’d end her worries.”
“Hey, that’s for me,” Daisycalled from