Man Who Sold the Moon / Orphans of the Sky by Robert A. Heinlein Page B

freelance like you upset investments of billions of dollars?”
    He frowned, then relaxed and laughed. “Oh, forget it, kid, it’s not that serious.”
    “That’s what you think. Did you ever hear of celanese voile? Probably not. It’s a synthetic dress material used in place of chiffon. But it wore better and was washable, and it only cost about forty cents a yard, while chiffon costs four times as much. You can’t buy it any more.
    “And take razor blades. My brother bought one about five years ago that never had to be resharpened. He’s still using it, but if he ever loses it, he’ll have to go back to the old kind. They took ’em off the market.
    “Did you ever hear of guys who had found a better, cheaper fuel than gasoline? One showed up about four years ago and proved his claims—but he drowned a couple of weeks later in a swimming accident. I don’t say that he was murdered, but it’s damn funny that they never found his formula.
    “And that reminds me—I once saw a clipping from the Los Angeles Daily News. A man bought a heavy standard-make car in San Diego, filled her up and drove her to Los Angeles. He only used two gallons. Then he drove to Agua Caliente and back to San Diego, and only used three gallons. About a week later the sales company found him and bribed him to make an exchange. By mistake they had let him have a car that wasn’t to be sold—one with a trick carburetor.
    “Do you know any big heavy cars that get seventy miles to the gallon? You’re not likely to—not while ‘Breakages Ltd.’ rules the roost. But the story is absolutely kosher—you can look it up in the files.
    “And of course, everybody knows that automobiles aren’t built to wear; they’re build to wear out, so you will buy a new one. They build ’em just as bad as the market will stand. Steamships take a worse beating than a car, and they last thirty years or more.”
    Douglas laughed it off. “Cut out the gloom, Sweetie Pie. You’ve got a persecution complex. Let’s talk about something more cheerful—you and me, for instance. You make pretty good coffee. How about us taking out a license to live together?”
    She ignored him.
    “Well, why not. I’m young and healthy. You could do worse.”
    “Archie, did I ever tell you about the native chief that got a yen for me down in South America?”
    “I don’t think so. What about him?”
    “He wanted me to marry him. He even offered to kill off his seventeen current wives and have them served up for the bridal feast.”
    “What’s that got to do with my proposition?”
    “I should have taken him up. A girl can’t afford to turn down a good offer these days.”

    Archie walked up and down the laboratory, smoking furiously. Mary Lou perched on a workbench and watched him with troubled eyes. When he stopped to light another cigarette from the butt of the last, she bid for attention.
    “Well, Master Mind, how does it look to you now?”
    He finished lighting his cigarette, burned himself, cursed in a monotone, then replied, “Oh, you were right, Cassandra. We’re in more trouble than I ever knew existed. First, when we build an electric runabout that gets its power from the Sun, while it’s parked at the curb, somebody pours kerosene over it and burns it up. I didn’t mind that so much—it was just a side issue. But when I refuse to sell out to them, they slap all those phony law suits on us, and tie us up like a kid with the colic.”
    “They haven’t a legal leg to stand on.”
    “I know that, but they’ve got unlimited money and we haven’t. They can run these suits out for months—maybe years—only we can’t last that long.”
    “What’s our next move? Do you keep this appointment?”
    “I don’t want to. They’ll try to buy me off again, and probably threaten me, in a refined way. I’d tell ’em to go jump, if it wasn’t for Dad. Somebody’s broken into his house twice now, and he’s too old to stand that sort of thing.”
    “I