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Pulp Fiction, 1956 · page 26 of 162

Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 26: Pulp Fiction, 1956

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THE MAN IN BETWEEN when he continued his voice was back to its old calm. “Okay, Jim, you don’t have to sock me. I’m an old man, and I’ve seen this happen before. They tried it on Mars and they almost got away with it on Venus. Wherever the law relaxes a little, and men are too busy to worry about what happens to their neighbours, you get the smart boys who try to cash in. Why not? At least they can work together for their mutual good. If the pigeons want to be plucked, then why have pity for them? Let the criminals take over. Let justice be sold to the man with the folding money and the right friends. Who the hell cares about the future? Skim the Belt and retire to Earth with the loot. Get wise, Jim. Being honest gets you nowhere. Buy a gun and killa few friends and cut yourself a slice of cake.” “Cut it out,” I snapped. “You don’t have to try so hard. I’m wise to you and your company. If you’re so clever then why don’t you 25 clean up the mess yourselves ?”” “How? Why? What’s the company got to do with it? Damn it, Jim, haven’t I told you that a commercial or- ganisation has to work with things as they are, not as they should be? What’s it to us if you rock-rats let yourselves be robbed? Do you want Consolidated to wet-nurse you? And if we tried it, you know what would happen? The company isn’t loved, Jim, and the first time we tried anything outside the law we’d be screamed down as dic- tators, money-grabbers, power-mad exploiters. Let a hint of that reach Earth and we’re done for. Business is a rat-race, Jim, and there are a dozen competitors after our blood. Knock us out and that restricts the supply of miner- als. Short supply means higher prices. Why should we go out of business because a few men didn’t have the guts to fight for their own?” “You’re too generous,” I said, and reached for a cigarette. “But why depend on comiclooks.corn