“How much will your dream cost the consumer, Mr. Director?”
“Research postulates at most a slight rise in the cost of basic sardine and sardine products.”
“Slight!” Petterson’s gray hair bobbed. “Mr. Fowler, do you have any idea how many people in my home state alone exist on minimal incomes? People for whom
111
WITH FRIENDS LUCE THESE . ..
a ‘slight’ rise in food costs translates into a catastrophic effect on basic nutrition. People for whom seafood— in particular the sardine—is the only source of bulk protein?”
“Chances are good that none of them would ever be affected, Senator.”
“Chances.” She nodded knowingly. “Now we come down to it. I will not gamble with hungry people’s bellies.”
She smiled magnanimously, a smile which had come to be quite familiar to Fowler.
“But I tell you what, Director. I’m willing to take a reasonable risk. I like to be considered progressive. All you have to do is guarantee this committee a ninety-percent probability of success for your tuna ranch, and I’ll vote aye with the rest of ’em.”
“You know our agency isn’t experienced enough to guarantee a ninety-percent chance of success, Madam Senator, but—”
“Then that’s done with! I won’t risk the well-being of thousands of humans on a radical new plan concocted by idle scientists who’ve probably never eaten an algaeburger in their overpaid lives.” She grimaced with distaste and looked past Fowler to the placid form of Wheeling. “Not for anyone!”
She looked around the table. “And neither, I venture to say, will any of my fellow committee members.”