“No difficulty, Eunice, if you really want to unload the house—”
“I do. If you consent.”
“It’s your house, dear, and I decided a long time ago that being a householder in a big city was more headache than pleasure. We could still keep my little house in Safe Harbor—no fear of squatters—if you want a pied-a-terre. We won’t do it quite as you described it but you can give your house to Shorty if you wish to. I’ll get Alec to work out a plan. But I wonder if Shorty can cope with it? Squatters might still move in on him—or rioters break in and wreck the place.”
“Oh. That fits in with the other half-of my idea: What to do about our too-faithful retainers. Offer any with twenty years or close to it retirement at full pay. Encourage the in-house guards and maintenance men to work for the trust, same pay—because you’re right; if we hand an illit a place like that, with no one to keep him straight, he’ll soon have a shell, not a church. Father Hugo is the best bodyguard I’ve ever seen. . . but he’s a child of God and unsophisticated about management. He needs a practical, cynical man as his in-house steward. Cunningham. Or O’Neil. Or Mentone.
Alec can work it out. Jake, I want to hand over to Shorty a complete plant, subsidized and maintained, so that he can put his mind solely on preaching and praying and soul-saving. I think you know why.” (I think I know why, Boss—but any of the four would have killed that mugger.)
(We’ve managed to thank the other three, beloved—and will go on thanking them. Father Hugo is a special case.)
“Eunice, do you really think Hugo saves souls?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea, Jacob; I don’t know Who is in charge of this world. Even if what Hugo does has no more real meaning than our ‘prayer meetings,’ it’s still worthwhile. Darling, this is a screwed-up world. Back in the days of the Model-T Ford the United States was a fine country, brimming with hope. But today the best thing most young people can do is stay home, sit still, not get involved, and chant Om Mani Padme Hum—and it is the best thing most of them are capable of doing, the world being what it is now; it’s far better than dropping out or turning on with drugs. When meditation and a meaningless prayer are better than most action open to them, then what Hugo has to offer is good in the same way. Even if his theology is a hundred percent wrong. But I don’t think Father Hugo is any more mistaken than the most learned theologian and he might be closer to the truth. Jacob, I don’t think anyone knows Who’s in charge.”
“Just wondered, my dear. Sometimes pregnant women get taken with fancies.”
“I’m pregnant down here, dearest; up here is still old Johann. Protects me somewhat, I think.” (Oh, you think so, huh? Boss, if you didn’t have me to keep you straight, you’d be as filled with vapors as a cat trying to have kittens in a wastebasket! Remember, I’ve been through this before.) (I know you have, darling, and that’s why I’m not afraid—otherwise I’d be scared silly.) (No worse than having a tooth drilled, Boss; we’re built for this. Roomy.) “Jake, did I ever tell you about the time I went into politics?”
“Didn’t know you ever had and can’t imagine it, Eunice.”
“Imagine it for ‘Johann,’ not for ‘Eunice.’ Forty years back I let them persuade me that it was my ‘duty.’ I was easy to persuade—but I realize now that my attraction to the Party was that I could pay for my campaign in a district they were going to lose anyhow. But I learned things, Jake. Learned that being a businessman has nothing to do with being a politician and even less to do with being a statesman. They clobbered me, Jake!—and I’ve never been tempted to save the world since. Maybe someone can save this addled planet but I don’t know how and now I know that I don’t know. That’s something even if it isn’t much. Jake, I could worry about Smith Enterprises when I was running it I can worry now about sixty-odd people and make sure they’re each all right insofar as money can insure it. But no one can solve things for seven billion people; they won’t let you. You go nutty with frustration if you try. Nor can you do much for three hundred million, not when the real problem—as you pointed out—is the very fact that there are three hundred million of them. I can’t see any solution short of compulsory sterilization—and the solution strikes me as worse than the disease. Licensing without sterilization hasn’t solved it.”