Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

60 into something that tastes like turpentine. So you see.” Bronson looked sympathetic. “Can’t you swipe some grub when they’re not looking? That way the job wouldn't be a complete washout.” “They search me,” the Navaho said. “The dirty skunks,” Bronson yelped. “What do they think we are? Crooks?” “Mph. Something’s going on _ outside. Let’s take a look.” They went out of the Goodwill to find Munn arguing passionately with Jorust, who had come in person to examine the X-ray machine. A crowd of Venusians watched avidly. Munn’s face was crimson. “IT looked it up,” he was saying. “You can’t stop me this time, Jorust. It’s perfectly legal to build a machine and sell it outside the city limits.” “Certainly,” Jorust said. “I’m not com- plaining about that.” “Well? We’re not. breaking any law.” The woman beckoned, and a fat Venusian waddled forward. “Patent three gross squared fourteen two dozen, issued to Metzi-Stang of Mylosh year fourth power twelve, subject sensitized plates.” “What’s that?” Munn asked. “It’s a patent,” Jorust told him. “It was issued some time ago to a Venusian in- ventor named Metzi-Stang. A tarkomar bought and suppressed the process, but it’s still illegal to infringe on it.” “You mean somebody’s already invented an X-ray machine on Venus?” “No. Merely sensitized film. But that’s part of your device, so you can’t sell it.” Thirkell pushed forward. “I don’t need film—”’ The fat Venusian said, “Vibrationary patent three gross two dozen and seven—” “What now?” Munn broke in. Jorust smiled. “Machines employing vibration must not infringe on that patent.” “This is an X-ray machine,” Thirkell said. “Light is vibration,” Jorust told him. “You can’t sell it without buying permission from the tarkomar now owning that patent. It should cost—let’s see—five thousand sofals or so.” Thirkell turned abruptly and went into the ship, where he mixed a whiskey-and- soda and thought wistfully about diphtheria germs. After a time the others appeared, looking disconsolate. “Can she do it?” Thirkell asked. Munn nodded. “She can do it, chum. She’s done it.” ASTOUNDING SCIENCE-FICTION “We're not infringing on their patents.” “We're not on Earth. The patent laws here are so wide that if a man invents a gun, nobody else can make telescopic sights. We're rooked again.” Underhill said, “It’s the tarkomars again. When they see a new process or invention that might mean change, they buy it up and suppress it. I can’t think of any gadget we could make that wouldn’t be an in- fringement on some Venusian patent or other.” “They stay within the law,” Munn pointed out. “Their law. So we can’t even challenge them. As long as we’re on Venus, we're subject to their jurisprudence.” “The beans are getting low,” Thirkell said morosely. “Everything is,” the captain told him. “Any ideas, somebody?” : There was silence. Presently Underhill took out a globe of Veetsy and put it on the table. “Where’d you get that?” Bronson asked. “It costs four fals.” “It’s empty,” Underhill said. “I found it in an ash can. I’ve been investigating glassite—the stuff they use for things like this.” “What about it?” “I found out how they make it. It’s a difficult, expensive process. It’s no better than our flexiglass, and a lot harder to make. If we had a flexiglass factory here—” Well?” .. “The bottom would drop out of Amal- gamated Glassité.” “T don’t get it,” Bronson said “So what?” “Ever heard of a whispering campaign?” Underhill asked. “My father wangled many an election that way, the old devil. Suppose we passed the word around that there was a new process for making a cheaper, better substitute for glassite? Wouldn’t Amal- gamated stock drop?” “Possibly,” Munn said. “We could clean up.” “What with?” ~ “Oh.” Underhill was money to make money.” “Always.” “I wonder. Here’s another idea. Venus is on the iron standard. Iron’s cheap on Earth. Suppose we talked about bringing in iron here—strewing it broadcast. There’d be a panic, wouldn’t there?” “Not without some iron to strew around,” Munn said. “Counter-propaganda would be telecast; we couldn’t compete with it. Our silent. “It takes conmicbooo <SHIGO)