Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

58 It was, though there was no sunset on Venus. The quintet retired,-to dream of full- course dinners—all but Thirkell, who dreamed he was eating a roast chicken that abruptly turned into a Venusian and began to devour him, starting at the feet. He woke up sweating and cursing, took some nem- butyl, and finally slept again. The next morning they scattered. Mike Soaring Eagle took a microscope and other gadgets to the nearest hydroponic center and went to work. He wasn’t allowed to carry spores back to the Goodwill, but there was no objection to his experimenting in Vyring itself. He made cultures and used forced- growth vitamin complexes and hoped for the best. Pat Bronson went to see Skottery, head of Water Power. Skottery was a tall, saturnine Venusian who knew a lot about engineering ~ and insisted on showing Bronson the models in his office before they settled down to a talk. “How many power have?” Bronson asked. “Third power twelve times four dozens. Forty-two dozen in this district.” Nearly a million altogether, Bronson made it. “How many in actual operation now?” he carried on. : "“About seventeen dozen.” “That means three hundred idle—twenty- five dozen, that is. Isn’t the upkeep a factor?” : “Quite a factor,” Skottery acknowledged. “Aside from the fact that some of those stations are now permanently inoperable. The terrain changes rapidly. Erosion, you know. We'll build one station on a gorge one year, and the next the water will be taking a different route. We build about a dozen a day. But we salvage something from the old ones, of course.” Bronson had a brainstorm. shed?” “Rh?” The Earthian explained. Skottery shook his shoulders in negation. “We have a different type of vegetation here. There’s so much water that roots don’t have to strike deeply.” “But they need soil?” ‘No. The elements they need are in sus- pension in the water.” Bronson described how watersheds worked. “Suppose you imported Earth plants and trees and forested the moun- tains. And built dams to retain your water. You’d have power all the time, and you’d Stations do you “No water- ASTOUNDING SCIENCE-FICTION need only a few big stations. And they’d be permanent.” Skottery thought that over. “We have all the power we need.” “But look at the expense!” “Our rates cover that.” “You could make more money—difals and sofals—” “We have made exactly the same profits for three hundred years,’ Skottery ex- plained. “Our net remains constant. It works perfectly. You fail to understand our economic system, I see. Since we have everything we need, there’s no use making more money—not even a fal more.” “Your competitors—” “We have only three, satisfied with their profits.” “Suppose I interest them in my plan?” “But you couldn’t,” Skottery — said patiently. ‘““They wouldn’t be interested any more than I am. I’m glad you dropped in. May you be worthy of your father’s name.” “Ye soulless fish!’ Bronson yelled, losing his temper. “Is there no red blood in your and they are -green-skinned carcass? Does no one on this world know what fight means?” He ham- mered a fist into his palm. “I wouldn’t be worthy of the old Seumas Bronson’s name unless I took a poke at that ugly phiz of yours right now—” Skottery had pressed a button. Two large Venusians appeared. The head of Water Power pointed to Bronson. “Remove it,” he said. Captain Rufus Munn was in one of the telecasting studios with Bart Underhill. They were sitting beside Hakkapuy, owner of Veetsy—which might be freely translated as Wet Tingles. They were watching the telecast commercial plug for Hakkapuy’s product, on the ’visor screen high on the wall. : A Venusian faded in, legs wide apart, arms akimbo. He raised one hand, six fingers spread wide. ‘All men drink water. Water is good. Life needs water. Veetsy is good also. Four fals buys a globe of Veetsy. That is all.” He vanished. Colors rippled across the screen and music played in _ off-beat rhythm. Munn turned to Hakkapuy. “That isn’t advertising. You can’t get customers that way.” “Well, it’s traditional,’ Hakkapuy said weakly. Munn opened the pack at his feet, brought out a.tall glass beaker, and asked for a globe-of Veetsy. It was given him, and he comiclooks (©