The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 181: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CASTAWAYS OF THE YEAR 2000. by the heels; then he sailed back to pick you off the roof where you had been left, and has been in a good deal of a funk ever since because he failed to find you. Haskins, 23”’—and Grant turned to his assistant—* just go into the transmit-room, will you, and report that Lumley is here at the muglug fac- tory?” Haskins went into an adjoining chamber to send the transmit. All this good news left but one thing for Lum- ley to desire. “ Archibald,” said he, “could you furnish me with a meal? I have had nothing to eat for more than twenty- four hours, and I’m nearly famished.” “Why, sure, Lumley!” cried Grant. “ Haskins, 23, and I have already had our dinner; but it won’t take us more than five minutes to get something through the tube for you. Haskins, send in a transmit for roast beef, hashed brown potatoes, bread, butter, apple pie, and coffee. Have the order rushed.” Haskins hurried away again. “Pink Doolittle is the dictators’ chef, Lumley,” observed Grant. “ You remember Pink? He has a bloomer brigade to help him, and puts up a pretty fair line of eats. He’s pulling down a good thing now, and has a cooking school for the old vaporizers and deodorizers—busy every minute at a hundred dollars a minute. How’s that, eh? All our earnings go into a common fund, and when we get enough to retire we're going to divide, share and share alike.” “When you divide,” asked Lumley, “where’ll you retire to?” A blank look crossed Grant’s face. “We'll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he answered indefinitely. “Will you go back to Igo1?”’ “Hardly. The taste of unlimited power we have had has changed our whole outlook. These are pretty good times, Lumley, for men with a little 1900 snap and ginger. It’s a pity your Rescue Society ever bothered with us. Everything was going swimmingly un- 167 til Kelpie blew into this era, hitched to his time machine.. He was the hostage around which all the opposition rallied. If it hadn’t been for him, Lumley, we’d have had no opposition. Of course, when the rest of you fellows came along, the situation was still more com- plicated. We're getting everything pretty well in hand, though, and there are jobs for several more dictators— we can place all of you late arrivals in good positions.” Lumley shuddered. He would have expressed himself in no uncertain terms . had not his dinner arrived at that mo- ment. Without loss of time he began appeasing his hunger. While he ate, another pair of newly completed muglugs were carried into the office by the steel-workers in steel from the factory. These were laid, &rizzly mechanisms of inert metal, upon the floor. In the head of each was an oil-cup with a screw top.. Haskins opened the - cups and filled them from a pipe in the _- wall. “Open the power-plugs, Haskins,” instructed Grant, “and then send a transmit to Head Center for two more rays.” Haskins opened a little door: in the back of each muglug’s head and tin- kered for a moment with the power- plugs. After this he entered the trans- mit-room and sent in his call to Head Center, | sitting in his desk-chair, Archibald Grant bent two keenly critical eyes on the prostrate steel giants. One of them lifted its hand as the subconscious ray allotted to it by Head Center “ took hold,” and the other began to quiver uncannily. “Get up,” ordered Grant. With a ringing jump each muglug gained its feet, imbued with power from the laboring human mind at Head Center. ““Have you made the record, Has- kins?” inquired Grant. The assistant was writing in his book. CoOMmicbook CO