Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

THE IRON STANDARD Five hours. Six hours. Even with the rest periods, it was grueling. They had brought food from the Goodwill, but it wasn’t too palatable. Still, Thirkell had selected it care- fully for caloric. Seven hours. Eight hours. The’ crowds made the canals impassable. A policeman came along and argued with Thirkell, who told him to see Jorust. Jorust must have put a flea in his ear, for he came back to watch, but not to interfere. Nine hours. Ten hours. Ten hours of Herculean effort. The men were exhausted —but they kept going. They had made their point by then, though, for a few Venusians approached Thirkell and inquired about the Power Pills. What were they? Did they really make you work faster? How could they buy the— The policeman appeared to stand beside Thirkell. “I’ve a message from the medical tarkomar,”’ he announced. “If you try to sell any of those things, you go to jail.” “Wouldn’t think of it,’ Thirkell said. “We're giving away free samples. Here, buddy.’ He dug into a sack and tossed the nearest Venusian a Power Pill. “Iwo days’ work in that instead of your usual one. Come back for more tomorrow. Want one, pal? Here. You, too. Catch.” “Wait a minute—” the policeman said. “Go get a warrant,” Thirkell told him. “There’s no law against making presents.” Jorust appeared with a burly, intolerant- looking Venusian. She introduced the latter as head of the Vyring tarkomars. “And I’m here to tell you to stop this,” the Venusian said. | Thirkell knew what to say. His com- panions kept. on with their work, but he felt them watching and listening. “What rule do you invoke?” “Why ... why, peddling.” “I’m not selling anything. This is public domain; we’re putting on a free show.” “Those ...ah.. . Power Pills—” “Free gifts,’ Thirkell said. “Listen, pal. When we gave all our food to you Venusian crooks, did you squaw? No, you took it. -And then clamped down. When we asked for our grub back, you just told us that we had no legal recourse; possession is nine points of the law, and we had a perfect right to make free gifts. That’s what we’re doing now—giving presents. So what?” - Jorust’s eyes were twinkling, but she hooded them swiftly. “I fear he speaks the truth. The law protects him. It is no great harm.” 63 Thirkell, watching her, wondered. Had Jorust guessed the right answer? Was she on their side? The tarkomar leader turned dark green, hesitated, swung on his heel, and went away. Jorust gave the Earthmen a long, enigmatic look, moved her shoulders, and followed. “I’m still stiff,’ Mike Soaring Eagle said a week later in the Goodwill. ““Hungry, too. When do we get grub?” Thirkell, at the valve, handed out a Power Pill to a Venusian and came back rubbing ' his. hands and grinning. “Wait. Just wait. What’s going on, skipper?” Munn nodded toward Underhill. “Ask the kid. He got back from Vyring a few minutes ago.” Underhill chuckled. “There was hell pop- ping. All in a week, too. We’ve certainly struck at the economic base. Every Venusian who labors on a piecework basis wants our pills, so he can speed up his production and make more fals. It’s the competitive in- stinct—which is universal.” “Well?” Bronson asked. “How do the lizard-faced big shots like that?” “They don’t like it. It’s hit the economic set-up they’ve had for centuries. Till now, one Venusian would make exactly ten sofals a week—say—by turning out five thousand bottle caps. With the pills Steve made up, he’s turning out eight or ten thousand and making correspondingly more dough. The guy at the next bench says what the hell, and comes to us for a Power Pill for him- self. Thus it goes. And the lovely part is that not all the labor is on piecework basis. It can’t be. You need tangibles for piece- work. Running a weather machine has got to be measured by time—not by how many raindrops you make in a day.” Munn nodded. “Jealousy, you mean?” Underhill said, “Well, look. A weather- machine operator has been making ten sofals a week, the same as a bottle capper on piecework Now the bottle capper’s making. twenty sofals. The weather-machine man doesn’t see the point. He’s willing to take Power Pills, too, but that won’t step up his production. He asks for a raise. If he gets it, the economy is upset even more. If he doesn’t, other weather-machine oper- ators get together with him and figure it’s unfair discrimination. They get mad at the tarkomars. They strike!” Mike Soaring Eagle said, “The tarkomars have forbidden work to any Venusian tak- ing Power Pills.” “And still the Venusians ask us for Power comiclooks.c©