That would get a laugh. Then he'd go on and give due credit to Harold, poor old Harold sleeping there, innocent as a baby about such things.
Why, the publicity angle alone could take up a man's full time. Guest appearances on TV. Getting signed up as technical adviser in Hollywood. But that was just the beginning.
Take the metal in this ship. Harold had made it out of junk from the city dump, melting it in a forge he'd fashioned out of an old oil drum. It had to be cheap and easy to make—but you could probably use it for almost anything. There was your whole metal industry shot to pieces!
This thing he called a scope now. With a big corporation behind it, Lord only knew what it would do to the communications setup.
But the big thing was this counter-grav business! There was where you got into the big leagues. If Harold could do this with it, think what General Motors could do! Orville could see TWA, B&O and steamship companies bidding against each other for it. And car manufacturers and freight handlers—and tugboat owners—and taxi fleets-and the armed forces—
Harold was waking up. He rubbed his skimpy whiskers, put on his broken glasses, creaked over to the scope and turned it on. Harold, old boy, Orville thought tenderly, you don't know it yet, but your troubles are all over!
"What do you see, Harold?"
"The Earth."
Orville went over. There was a dark green spot on the scope, bright against deep black. "You sure?"
"Almost positive. That's the only thing that size there is right around here."