Foundation - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,71

said, "We can explain the workings of dummy corporations, if you would like. 朤hen, working further at random, take our complete line of household gadgets. We have collapsible stoves that will roast the toughest meats to the desired tenderness in two minutes. We've got knives that won't require sharpening. We've got the equivalent of a complete laundry that can be packed in a small closet and will work entirely automatically. Ditto dish-washers. Ditto-ditto floor-scrubbers, furniture polishers, dust-precipitators, lighting fixtures oh, anything you like. Think of your increased popularity, if you make them available to the public. Think of your increased quantity of, uh, worldly goods, if they're available as a government monopoly at nine hundred percent profit. It will be worth many times the money to them, and they needn't know what you pay for it. And, mind you, none of it will require priestly supervision. Everybody will be happy."

"Except you, it seems. What do you get out of it?"

"Just what every trader gets by Foundation law. My men and I will collect half of whatever profits we take in. Just you buy all I want to sell you, and we'll both make out quite well. Quite well."

The Commdor was enjoying his thoughts, "What did you say you wanted to be paid with? Iron?"

"That, and coal, and bauxite. Also tobacco, pepper, magnesium, hardwood. Nothing you haven't got enough of."

"It sounds well."

"I think so. Oh, and still another item at random, Commdor. I could retool your factories."

"Eh? How's that?"

"Well, take your steel foundries. I have handy little gadgets that could do tricks with steel that would cut production costs to one percent of previous marks. You could cut prices by half, and still split extremely fat profits with the manufacturers. I tell you, I could show you exactly what I mean, if you allowed me a demonstration. Do you have a steel foundry in this city? It wouldn't take long."

"It could be arranged, Trader Mallow. But tomorrow, tomorrow. Would you dine with us tonight?"

"My men" began Mallow.

"Let them all come," said the Commdor, expansively. "A symbolic friendly union of our nations. It will give us a chance for further friendly discussion. But one thing," his face lengthened and grew stem, "none of your religion. Don't think that all this is an entering wedge for the missionaries."

"Commdor," said Mallow, dryly, "I give you my word that religion would cut my profits."

"Then that will do for now. You'll be escorted back to your ship."

6.

The Commdora was much younger than her husband. Her face was pale and coldly formed and her black hair was drawn smoothly and tightly back.

Her voice was tart. "You are quite finished, my gracious and noble husband? Quite, quite finished? I suppose I may even enter the garden if I wish, now."

"There is no need for dramatics, Licia, my dear," said the Commdor, mildly. "The young man will attend at dinner tonight, and you can speak with him all you wish and even amuse yourself by listening to all I say. Room will have to be arranged for his men somewhere about the place. The stars grant that they be few in numbers."

"Most likely they'll be great hogs of eaters who will eat meat by the quarter-animal and wine by the hogshead. And you will groan for two nights when you calculate the expense."

"Well now, perhaps I won't. Despite your opinion, the dinner is to be on the most lavish scale."

"Oh, I see." She stared at him contemptuously. "You are very friendly with these barbarians. Perhaps that is why I was not to be permitted to attend your conversation. Perhaps your little weazened soul is plotting to turn against my father."

"Not at all."

"Yes, I'd be likely to believe you, wouldn't I? If ever a poor woman was sacrificed for policy to an unsavory marriage, it was myself. I could have picked a more proper man from the alleys and mudheaps of my native world."

"Well, now, I'll tell you what, my lady. Perhaps you would enjoy returning to your native world. Except that, to retain as a souvenir that portion of you with which I am best acquainted, I could have your tongue cut out first. And," he tolled his head, calculatingly, to one side, "as a final improving touch to your beauty, your ears and the tip of your nose as well."

"You wouldn't dare, you little pug-dog. My father would pulverize your toy nation to meteoric dust. In fact, he might do it in any case, if I told