Read Ebook: Nor Dust Corrupt by McConnell James V Finlay Virgil Illustrator

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Ebook has 87 lines and 8372 words, and 2 pages

"Who was the richest man who ever lived, Joe?"

"You mean...."

"Who was it that founded the University you went to, the hospital in which you were born? Who gave a magnificent library to every city in the known universe, who was it...."

Krieg interrupted. "Old C. T. himself...."

There was a short silence, then Steen continued. "Now you see why I didn't want to tell you, Joe--to raise false hopes. Only one man in the Galaxy was ever wealthy enough to buy his way into Manhattan. And he had to give up his entire fortune to do it. I'm afraid that you'll never make the grade, Joe."

Krieg stood stunned. Steen was aware that two quintillion credits was beyond Krieg's wildest dreams, for Steen knew that Joseph Krieg had come to Earth determined to purchase his burial lot and then retire from the business world.

Steen pulled lightly at Krieg's arm. "Now, come along, Joe. Let's go take a look at Hong Kong." The three men started off down the path, but before they had gone ten feet, a robot scurried out of the bushes and dashed over to the bench they had been sitting on. It clucked softly to itself, put forth several arms, and in a matter of seconds had completely washed and disinfected the bench.

Joseph Krieg, an empty and numb look on his face, stopped to watch the process. He stared for a few seconds, then asked hoarsely, "What's that?"

Consolator Steen smiled. "One of the Guardians, Joe. Superb--and completely incorruptible. Within minutes after we leave, every vestige of our visit will be gone--each piece of gravel we tread on will be scrubbed clean or replaced, each piece of grass we touch uprooted and destroyed, even the very air we breathe will be sterilized to remove our traces. We have our problem of vandals too, you know," Steen said, a wisp of a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "But these are vandals who want to get in and leave something, not like those of ancient times on Earth who broke into burial grounds to loot and destroy. Yes, Joe, we found long ago that the only safe method was to employ mechanical devices to guard against clandestine burials. So even the gardeners who keep this Park in blossom are mechanical. See, there's another one over there, hard at work."

Joseph Krieg turned and saw to one side, by a large bed of red flowers, another robot with dozens of visible appendages. It purred an almost silent tune as it clipped and pruned, dug and spaded, trimmed and cleaned the beds, occasionally sprinkling a rich fertilizer dust here and there.

"The Guardians of Valhalla, Joe. They were set into motion centuries ago, and not even the President knows how to change their orders. They can't be bribed, even if their human masters can be."

Joseph Krieg stooped down beside the bed of flowers. He reached out and picked up a handful of the fine dirt and let it slip pensively through his fingers. "Dust unto dust," he said slowly. "Man was created from the soil of Earth, and to dust he returneth." There was a long silence as Steen let the emotion run its course. Then he touched Krieg lightly on the arm and the man stood up again. They started off down the path, ignoring the machine that skittered along behind them, cleansing each bit of gravel they stepped upon.

To Steen, this was always the most important part of the interview. While the fish was masticating the bait, he had to prattle on to keep the hook from becoming too visible. "Some day I must tell you of all the ways people have tried to get themselves buried on Earth without paying for the privilege, Joe. It makes a fascinating story. We're in a difficult position here, you know, for we have to import every single bit of food we eat, every machine we use, each piece of clothing that we wear. But every single item that we import is carefully scanned to make sure that no one has concealed so much as a single human hair in the process." Steen watched Krieg's face closely as they walked. The man should be going through hell just now, but not too much of it showed on his face. Steen continued his prattle, a little puzzled.

"Oh, it's incredible the ways that people have tried to cheat. Some of the methods used are too ugly to relate, some of them humorous beyond belief. But this is why we've resorted to mechanical guards all the way round--to maintain our incorruptibility. Even Anderman with all of his quintillions could not have bribed his way past our machines." Steen's voice betrayed none of the anxiety that he felt. For Joseph Krieg was almost smiling now, was apparently feeling none of the great confusion that Steen had counted upon.

They reached the gates. "Well, Joe. I think we'll head straight for Hong Kong, if you don't mind. It will be early morning there by now, and that's the best time...."

Joseph Krieg turned to face the man. "Thank you very much, Consolator, but I don't think that will be necessary. You see, I've changed my mind."

Steen repressed a frown. "Changed your mind?" he asked blandly.

"Yes. After giving it due consideration, I think that it would be foolish to squander all of my fortune on a burial on Earth. My family would be cheated out of its inheritance if I did, and after all, if my sons carry on in their father's tradition, that's enough for me." Krieg extended his hand. "I wish to thank you, Steen, for your kindness. I regret that I have troubled you for nothing."

Krieg returned the smile. "I think I understand. And I appreciate your offer, although I must tell you that there is little likelihood that I will be forced to take it up. Again my thanks. And now, good-bye." Krieg turned and strode through the gates.

Consolator Steen and his assistant, Braun, stood watching the man as he disappeared into the distance. Then Steen turned and walked over to one of the benches in the Park near to the gates. He sat down wearily.

"Braun," he said. "I don't like it. Not at all. He should have been beside himself with worry, he should have pumped me for more information, he should have done a thousand other things. But he didn't. He just turned and left. I tell you, I don't like it at all."

Braun frowned. "He seemed to take the bait, Sir."

"And then, after sniffing it over carefully, he turned and spat it right back in our faces. We can't afford mistakes like this, Braun. Earth needs the money too badly. It's our only means of support, and we can't let a fish like Krieg get off the hook."

"There are other fish around, Sir."

Steen's face took on an angry look. "Of course there are. But none with the potentialities that Krieg showed. Don't you realize that ever since that sad day when Earth realized that she was a has-been, she's had to take advantage of every single opportunity offered her, just to keep alive? Oh, they were clever, those ancient ones who realized that if a civilization is to be kept together, it must have a myth. And so they gave our civilization its myth--that of Earth, the Great Ancestral Home. Just accidentally, it also offered Earth a means of retaining at least a part of her power."

Steen waved his hands in the air. "From an economic viewpoint it was nice too. Only the very wealthy could afford an Earth burial, and so it became a means of hidden, graduated taxation--Earth soaked the rich and ignored the poor, and cut her overt taxes while doing so. Burial became so costly that it helped break up the huge estates, it helped leaven out the wealth. Our propaganda was sharpened to the point where we could take a man like Anderman and drive him all of his life towards an almost unattainable goal, force him to expend his tremendous energies in the accumulation of great wealth, extending the frontiers of the Galaxy as he did so, building up our civilization's strength in the process, and then, in the end, make him turn all of his wealth over to Earth in one form or another. Oh, I tell you, Braun, those ancient ones were clever."

The tirade halted. The air hung silent for a moment, and the twittering of a nearby bird could be heard.

"They were very, very clever. They gave us all the tools, and somehow we've failed to use them correctly. What was it, Braun? What did we do, or fail to do, that let Krieg get away from us?"

Braun frowned. "I don't know, Sir. Perhaps he just changed his mind about Earth."

Steen snorted. "Impossible! He's had too many years' exposure to our propaganda for that. He can no more give up his dream of burial in Manhattan than he can give up his very personality. No, Braun, I think we just underestimated the man. Somewhere along the line he had an idea, he saw something that we failed to see."

Braun shrugged his shoulders. "But what are we going to do about it?"

Consolator Steen pursed his lips. "I tell you what I'm going to do about it. I'm going straight back to the office and sit and think, and think, and then think some more. Krieg's got a good fifty years ahead of him yet, and that means I've got exactly that long to guess what's on his mind. I'll get that quintillion credits if it's the last thing I do."

They had no more than reached the gate when one of the mechanical Guardians appeared from behind a bush, chortled to itself and scurried over to the bench. It cleansed the rough-hewn stone, then washed the path the two men had taken. Then, its exceptional chores accomplished, it went back to its normal pursuits.

It approached a bed of begonias nearby. One appendage extended itself and began digging up the dirt around the plants. Meanwhile, inside the machine, other appendages ripped open a small bag and spilled the fine dust inside the bag into a small trough. The empty bag was rolled up and stuck in a disposal bin along with several other bags, all with identical markings:

JOSEPH KRIEG AND SONS, BY APPOINTMENT, PURVEYORS OF FINE FERTILIZERS TO THE GALACTIC GOVERNMENT ON EARTH

The machine clucked quietly to itself as it sprinkled the dust evenly over the black, yielding earth. It patted the fertilizer gently into the rich soil, making sure that each plant got its fair share. Then it scurried off silently to tend to a bed of calla lilies nearby.

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