“Rebuttal — a punctual word if there ever was one,” said Rumfoord. “I say this, and then you rebut me, then I rebut you, then somebody else comes in and rebuts us both.” He shuddered. “What a nightmare where everybody gets in line to rebut each other.”
“Couldn’t you, this very moment,” said Beatrice, “give me stock-market tips that would enable me to gain back everything I lost and more? If you had one shred of concern for me, couldn’t you tell me exactly how Malachi Constant of Hollywood is going to try to trick me into going to Mars, so I could outwit him?”
“Look,” said Rumfoord, “life for a punctual person is like a roller coaster.” He turned to shiver his hands in her face. “All kinds of things are going to happen to you! Sure,” he said, “I can see the whole roller coaster you’re on. And sure — I could give you a piece of paper that would tell you about every dip and turn, warn you about every bogeyman that was going to pop out at you in the tunnels. But that wouldn’t help you any.”
“I don’t see why not,” said Beatrice.
“Because you’d still have to take the roller-coaster ride,” said Rumford. “I didn’t design the roller coaster, I don’t own it, and I don’t say who rides and who doesn’t. I just know what it’s shaped like.”
“And Malachi Constant is part of the roller coaster?” said Beatrice.
“Yes,” said Rumfoord.
“And there’s no avoiding him?” said Beatrice.
“No,” said Rumfoord.
“Well — suppose you tell me then, just what steps bring us together,” said Beatrice, “and let me do what little I can.”
Rumfoord shrugged. “All right — if you wish,” he said. “If it would make you feel better —
“At this very moment,” he said, “the President of the United States is announcing a New Age of Space to relieve unemployment. Billions of dollars are going to be spent on unmanned space ships, just to make work. The opening episode in this New Age of Space will be the firing of The Whale next Tuesday. The Whale will be renamed The Rumfoord in my honor, will be loaded with organ-grinder monkeys, and will be fired in the general direction of Mars. You and Constant will both take part in the ceremonies. You will go on board for a ceremonial inspection, and a faulty switch will send you on your way with the monkeys.”
It is worth stopping the narrative at this point to say that this cock-and-bull story told to Beatrice is one of the few known instances of Winston Niles Rumfoord’s having told a lie.
This much of Rumfoord’s story was true: The Whale was going to be renamed and fired on Tuesday, and the President of the United States was announcing a New Age of Space.
Some of the President’s comments at the time bear repeating — and it should be remembered that the President gave the word “progress” a special flavor by pronouncing it prog-erse. He also flavored the words “chair” and “warehouse,” pronouncing them cheer and wirehouse.
“Now, some people are going around saying the American economy is old and sick,” said the President, “and I frankly can’t understand how they can say such a thing, because there is now more opportunity for progerse on all fronts than at any time in human history.
“And there is one frontier we can make particular progerse on and that is the great frontier of space. We have been turned back by space once, but it isn’t the American way to take no for an answer where progerse is concerned.
“Now, people of faint heart come to see me every day at the White House,” said the President, “and they weep and wail and say, ‘Oh, Mr. President, the wirehouses are all full of automobiles and airplanes and kitchen appliances and various other products,’ and they say, ‘Oh, Mr. President, there is nothing more that anybody wants the factories to make because everybody already has two, three, and four of everything.’
“One man in particular, I remember, was a cheer manufacturer, and he had way overproduced, and all he could think about was all those cheers in the wirehouse. And I said to him, ‘In the next twenty years, the population of the world is going to double, and all those billions of new people are going to need things to sit down on, so you just hang on to those cheers. Meanwhile, why don’t you forget about those cheers in the wirehouse and think about progerse in space?’