“Do you know what that is?” Bill asked, throwing a thick volume onto the desk.
“The classified telephone directory for the famous city of Storhestelortby on Procyon-III, I can read that on the cover.”
“Do you know how many of these old phone books we have?”
“The mind reels at the thought. They’re shipping in new ones all the time, and right away we get the old ones. So what?”
“So I’ll show you. Do you have any plastic trays?”
“Are you kidding?” Basurero threw open a closet and hundreds of trays clattered forward into the room.
“Great. Now I add just a few things more, some cardboard, string, and wrapping paper all salvaged from the refuse dump, and we have everything we need. If you will call a generalduty robot I will demonstrate step z of my plan.”
“GD-bot, that’s one short and two longs.” Basurero blew lustily on the soundless whistle, then moaned and clutched his head until it stopped vibrating. The door slammed open, and a robot stood there, arms and tentacles trembling with expectancy. Bill pointed.
“To work, robot. Take fifty of those trays, wrap them in cardboard and paper, and tie them securely with the string.”
Humming with electronic delight, the robot pounced forward, and a moment later a neat package rested on the floor. Bill opened the telephone book at random and pointed to a name. “Now address this package to this name, mark it unsolicited gift, duty-free-and mail it!”
A stylo snapped out of the tip of the robot’s finger, and it quickly copied the address onto the package, weighed it at arm’s length, stamped the postage on it with the meter from Basurero’s desk, and flipped it neatly through the door of the mail chute. There was the schloof sound of insufflation as the vacuum tube whisked it up to the higher levels. Basurero’s mouth was agape at the rapid disappearance of fifty trays, so Bill clinched his argument.
“The robot labor for wrapping is free, the addresses are free, and so are the wrapping materials. Plus the fact that, since this is a government office, the postage is free.”
“You’re right-it’ll work! An inspired plan, I’ll put it into operation on a large scale at once. We’ll flood the inhabited galaxy with these damned trays. I don’t know how to thank you …”
“How about a cash bonus?”
“A fine idea, I’ll voucher it at once.”
Bill strolled back to his office with his hand still tingling from the clasp of congratulations, his ears still ringing with the words of praise. It was a fine world to live in. He slammed his office door behind him and had seated himself at his desk before he noticed that a large, crummy, black overcoat was hanging behind the door. Then he noticed that it was X’s overcoat. Then he noticed the eyes staring at him from the darkness of the collar, and his heart sank as he realized that X had returned.
VII
“Changed your mind yet about joining the Party?” X asked as he wriggled free of the hook and dropped lithely to the floor.
“I’ve been doing some thinking.” Bill writhed with guilt.
“To think is to act. We must drive the stench of the fascist leeches from the nostrils of our homes and loved ones.”
“You talked me into it. I’ll join.”
“Logic always prevails. Sign the form here, a drop of blood there, then raise your hand while I administer the secret oath.”
Bill raised his hand, and X’s lips worked silently.
“I can’t hear you,” Bill said.
“I told you it was a secret oath; all you do is say yes.”
“..Yes.”
“Welcome to the Glorious Revolution.” X kissed him warmly on both cheeks. “Now come with me to the meeting of the underground, it is about to begin.” X rushed to the rear wall and ran his fingers over the design there, pressing in a certain way on a certain spring: there was a click, and the secret panel swung open. Bill looked in dubiously at the damp, dark staircase leading down.
“Where does this go?”
“Underground, where else? Follow me, but do not get lost. These are millennia-old tunnels unknown to those of the city above, and there are Things dwelling here since time out of mind.”