The Crack In Space Read Online Free PDF

it in a second. But not Jim. He’s—old-fashioned.’ That was as good a way to put it as any. ‘He’s a Puritan. You can call him a remnant of the twentieth century, if you want.’
    ‘Or nineteenth,’ the head said, venomously.
    ‘Say anything you want,’ Sal said, nodding. ‘Jim won’t care. He knows what he believes in; he thinks the satellite is undignified. The way it’s all handled up here, boom, boom, boom—mechanically, with no personal touch, no meeting of humans on a human basis. You run an autofac; I don’t object and most people don’t object, because it saves time. But Jim does, because he’s sentimental.’
    Two right arms gestured at Sal menacingly as the head said loudly, ‘The hell with that! We’re as sentimental up here as you can get! We play background music in every room—the girls always learn the customer’s first name and they’re required to call him by that and nothing else! How sentimental can you get, for chrissakes? What do you want?’ In a higher-pitched voice it roared on, ‘A marriage ceremony before and then a divorce procedure afterward, so it constitutes a legal marriage, is that it? Or do you want us to teach the girls to sew mother hubbards and bloomers, and you pay to see their ankles, and that’s it? Listen, Sal.’ Its voice dropped a tone, became ominous and deadly. ‘Listen, Sal Heim,’ it repeated. ‘We know our business; don’t tell us our business and we won’t tell you yours. Starting tonight our TV announcers are going to insert a plug for Schwarz in every telecast to Earth, right in the middle of the glorious chef-d’oeuvre you-know-what where the girls  . . . well, you know. Yes, I mean that part. And we’re going to make a campaign out of this, really put it over. We’re going to insure Bill Schwarz’ reelection.’ It added, ‘And insure that Col fink’s thorough, total defeat.’
    Sal said nothing. The great carpeted office was silent.
    ‘No response from you, Sal? You’re going to sit idly by?’
    ‘I came up here to visit a girl I like,’ Sal said. ‘Sparky Rivers, her name is. I’d like to see her now.’ He felt weary. ‘She’s different from all the others  . . . at least, all I’ve tried.’ Rubbing his forehead he murmured, ‘No, I’m too tired, now. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll just leave.’
    ‘If she’s as good as you say,’ the head said, ‘it won’t require any energy from you.’ It laughed in appreciation of its wit. ‘Send a fray named Sparky Rivers down here,’ it instructed, pressing a button on its desk.
    Sal Heim nodded dully. There was something to that. And after all, this was what he had come here for, this ancient, appreciated remedy.
    ‘You’re working too hard,’ the head said acutely. ‘What’s the matter, Sal? Are you losing? Obviously, you need our help. Very badly, in fact.’
    ‘Help, schmelp,’ Sal said. ‘What I need is a six-week rest, and not up here. I ought to take an ‘ab to Africa and hunt spiders or whatever the craze is right now.’ With all his problems, he had lost touch.
    ‘Those big trench-digging spiders are out, now,’ the head informed him. ‘Now it’s nocturnal moths, again.’ Walt’s right arm pointed at the wall and Sal saw, behind glass, three enormous iridescent cadavers, displayed under an ultraviolet lamp which brought out all their many colors. ‘Caught them myself,’ the head said, and then chided itself. ‘No, you didn’t; I did. You saw them but I popped them into the killing jar.’
    Sal Heim sat silently waiting for Sparky Rivers, as the two inhabitants of the head argued with each other as to which of them had brought back the African moths.
    The top-notch and expensive—and dark-skinned—private investigator, Tito Cravelli, operating out of N’York, handed the woman seated across from him the findings which his Altac 3-60 computer had derived from the data provided it. It was a good machine.
    ‘Forty hospitals,’ Tito said. ‘Forty