“I took that into consideration, Professor. This projection is based on controlled transmutation–any isotope into any other and postulating power for any reaction not exo-energetic. Rock would be shipped–transformed into wheat and beef and other foodstuffs.”
“But we don’t know how to do that! Amigo, this is ridiculous!”
“But we will know how to do it.”
“Mike is right, Prof,” I put in. “Sure, today we haven’t a glimmer. But will. Mike, did you compute how many years till we have this? Might take a flier in stocks.”
Mike answered in sad voice, “Man my only male friend save for the Professor whom I hope will be my friend, I tried. I failed. The question is indeterminate.”
“Why?”
“Because it involves a break-through in theory. There is no way in all my data to predict when and where genius may appear.”
Prof sighed. “Mike amigo, I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Then that projection didn’t mean anything?”
“Of course it meant something!” said Wyoh. “It means we’ll dig it out when we need it. Tell him, Mike!”
“Wyoh, I am most sorry. Your assertion is, in effect, exactly what I was looking for. But the answer still remains: Genius is where you find it. No. I am so sorry.”
I said, “Then Prof is right? When comes to placing bets?”
“One moment, Man. There is a special solution suggested by the Professor’s speech last night–return shipping, tonne for tonne.”
“Yes, but can’t do that.”
“If the cost is low enough, Terrans would do so. That can be achieved with only minor refinement, not a break-through, to wit, freight transportation up from Terra as cheap as catapulting down to Terra.”
“You call this ‘minor’?”
“I call it minor compared with the other problem, Man.”
“Mike dear, how long? When do we get it?”
“Wyoh, a rough projection, based on poor data and largely intuitive, would be on the order of fifty years.”
“‘Fifty years’? Why, that’s nothing! We can have free trade.”
“Wyoh, I said ‘on the order of’–I did not say ‘on the close order of.'”
“It makes a difference?”
“Does.” I told her. “What Mike said was that he doesn’t expect it sooner than five years but would be surprised if much longer than five hundred–eh, Mike?”
“Correct, Man.”
“So need another projection. Prof pointed out that we ship water and organic matter and don’t get it back—agree, Wyoh?”
“Oh. sure. I just don’t think it’s urgent. We’ll solve it when we reach it.”
“Okay, Mike–no cheap shipping, no transmutation: How long till trouble?”
“Seven years.”
“‘Seven years!'” Wyoh jumped up, stared at phone. “Mike honey! You don’t mean that?”
“Wyoh,” he said plaintively, “I did my best. The problem has an indeterminately large number of variables. I ran several thousand solutions using many assumptions. The happiest answer came from assuming no increase in tonnage, no increase in Lunar population–restriction of births strongly enforced–and a greatly enhanced search for ice in order to maintain the water supply. That gave an answer of slightly over twenty years. All other answers were worse.”
Wyoh, much sobered, said, “What happens in seven years?”
“The answer of seven years from now I reached by assuming the present situation, no change in Authority policy, and all major variables extrapolated from the empiricals implicit in their past behavior–a conservative answer of highest probability from available data. Twenty-eighty-two is the year I expect food riots. Cannibalism should not occur for at least two years thereafter.”
“‘Cannibalism’!” She turned and buried head against Prof’s chest.
He patted her, said gently, “I’m sorry, Wyoh. People do not realize how precarious our ecology is. Even so, it shocks me. I know water runs down hill. . . but didn’t dream how terribly soon it will reach bottom.”
She straightened up and face was calm. “Okay, Professor, I was wrong. Embargo it must be–and all that that implies. Let’s get busy. Let’s find out from Mike what our chances are. You trust him now–don’t you?”
“Yes, dear lady, I do. We must have him on our side. Well, Manuel?”
Took time to impress Mike with how serious we were, make him understand that “jokes” could kill us (this machine who could not know human death) and to get assurance that he could and would protect secrets no matter what retrieval program was used–even our signals if not from us. Mike was hurt that I could doubt him but matter too serious to risk slip.