"As for the emergency powers," he added, "they are neither to be temporary nor limited."
Somebody wanted the floor to discuss the matter, with the declared hope that perhaps Barlow would modify his demands.
"You've got the proposition," Barlow said. "I'm not knocking off even ten per cent."
"But what if the Congress refuses, sir?" the President asked.
"Then you can stay up here at the Pole and try to work it out yourselves. I'll get what I want from the morons. A shrewd operator like me doesn't have to compromise; I haven't got a single competitor in this whole cockeyed moronic era."
Congress waived debate and voted by show of hands. Barlow won unanimously.
"You don't know how close you came to losing me," he said in his first official address to the joint Houses. "I'm not the boy to haggle; either I get what I ask or I go elsewhere. The first thing I want is to see designs for a new palace for me—nothing unostentatious, either—and your best painters and sculptors to start working on my portraits and statues. Meanwhile, I'll get my staff together."
He dismissed the Polar President and the Polar Congress, telling them that he'd let them know when the next meeting would be.
A week later, the program started with North America the first target.
Mrs. Garvy was resting after dinner before the ordeal of turning on the dishwasher. The TV, of course, was on and it said: "Oooh!"—long, shuddery and ecstatic, the cue for the Parfum Assault Criminale spot commercial. "Girls," said the announcer hoarsely, "do you want your man? It's easy to get him—easy as a trip to Venus."