“Quiet as a ‘chink’ funeral now—just over flurry,” his broker answered. “Two weeks ago rumor broadcast President sore about inefficiency of old Jim Macdonald—chief ‘National Law-enforcement Bureau’—and ‘National Bootlegger Consolidated’ dropped ten points. Two days later Jim resigned, and N.B.C. lost twenty points. Next day President appointed Wheeler Wayne (who has never taken a drink in his life, where anybody could catch him at it), and ‘N.B.C.’ hit the skids for fifty points. Wayne’s first move was to order your local bootlegger, Lippincott, raided and jailed, and the bottom fell clear out of ‘N.B.C.’ For nearly a whole day the Pit was stormed by a mob of the fainthearted in a panic, begging anybody and everybody to take their ‘Bootlegger’ stock off their hands for anything they would give. I had inside tip that officers only found one quart in Lippincott’s possession, so I did the charitable act (in your name) by relieving them of ten millions. Would have plunged deeper but afraid of complicating other deals. Two days later old Jim Macdonald and Bill Jenkins (head National Bootlegger Trust) settled squabble about Jim’s demand for more dough; and the ‘evidence’ against Lippincott’ was ‘lost,’ he was turned loose, and ‘N.B.C.’ floated back to normal. With care can unload and clean up about two millions, or can hang on—just as you say.”
Turning to one side Algernon slipped a sheet of paper into, and switched the connection into what looked like a complicated development of the original typewriter; and then replied to his broker.
“You did fine, Charlie,” he said. “Don’t forget that you double your regular percentage when I am ‘off the reservation’.” Then, after a momentary hesitation to consider, he continued: “Tell bookkeeper to read statement into private radiophone at once, as I already have ‘Radioelectrodictaphonotypograph’ connected. Unload ‘Bootlegger’ stock as soon as you can without sacrificing profits that you are sure of, as I don’t want my name publicly mixed in the business. And now listen, Charlie! I’m going away for a bit—probably for only a day or so, if nothing unforeseen happens. If you want me, call on regular ‘E.V.R.,’ but use ‘long distance.’ If you think it best to look for me, come over here and use my ‘Electro-visional.’ Will probably be in neighborhood of Mt. McKinley in 3670-mile circuit and ‘W.N.W.’ sector. Good-bye!”
As Algernon ceased speaking, the silvery “ting” of a little bell on his “Radio Electro-photographing” camera notified him of the receipt of the photographed copies of his government permit and the correlating orders issued; while the discontinuance of the rapid “tick-tick” of his “Radioelectrodictaphonotypograph” told him that his broker’s bookkeeper had completed his statement. From the former he extracted two slips of paper, and found them correct. But he studied the sheet of paper that he took from the latter for a moment, in a perplexed confusion at the phonetic simplicity of the spelling of the words. Then, reflecting that this mathematically-exact translation of oral sound would eventually assist in the elimination of the orthographic absurdities which always had burdened a language that is too complex at its best, he shoved this into an inside pocket along with the other two; and, pressing a button in the side-wall which opened a small door leading into a “one-person” sized compartment in a perpendicular pneumatic tube, he stepped within, and was shot to the roof.
Going to the largest of the hangars that dotted the roof, he pushed a button—and the door flew open, and a glistening “Electro re-tempered” copper monstrosity trundled out on a truck. The best that could be said for its shape was that it looked like a gigantic beer bottle. Stepping to the mouth of the “bottle,” he pressed a button, and the stopper flew out with a loud report. Entering the narrow passage-way through the “neck,” he switched on the electric lights and found himself in a spacious, tempered-glass compartment “blown-into” the framework in such a way as to practically surround itself with a vacuum space, and with the few necessary contacts elaborately insulated. A yank at a lever started an “Oxygen Supply” apparatus (already set at “One Person”) going, and a touched button caused the “stopper” to fly back into place with another loud report.
From a mahogany wardrobe he took a bear-skin fur suit which was lined with finely-woven copper-wire cloth. Stepping into this, he set the “Interior Heat Regulator” at 65° Fahrenheit, adjusted the connection with the concealed storage battery, and pushed the spring which caused the suit to “snap-to” and fasten.
A shifted lever on a large keyboard set the “Interior Temperature Regulator” of the compartment going at a “65°” adjustment, another started the “Electro-visional,” a third connected a small dynamo with the “Atomic-energy Reservoir” and started it supplying the comparatively trifling electrical needs, a fourth completed a similar direct connection with the rest of the mechanism and a fifth released an electron of atomic-energy from the basic atom into the “Atomic-energy Reservoir” to maintain the parity of the supply.
Seating himself in an upholstered chair, he prepared for quick and decisive action. With one hand he pulled down the “Helicopter” lever, and, through the “Electro-visional,” saw a huge, “Electro re-tempered” steel solid corkscrew-like device with a “screw” fifty feet deep in the groove, shoot into the air. Setting its regulator at “Half-speed,” he touched a button and began to ascend slowly. When the “Altitude Indicator” registered “1000 Feet,” he turned “full speed” into the helicopter device and finished with a rush. At “20,000 Feet” he shut the helicopter down to “Maintenance of Altitude” speed, pulled a lever which released a huge propeller from its underneath pocket, and set it going at full speed “In Reverse,” yanked the lever back at “21,500 Feet,” and came to a full stop at “22,000 Feet” with the underneath propeller roaring noisily but harmlessly in its enclosed pocket.
Turning to the “Electro-visional” dial, he threw the clutch into the “3670 Mile” circuit, picked out the faint outline of the higher peak of Mt. McKinley, and stuck a needle-point into it. This he connected, by means of a delicate copper wire, with “Local”—which he knew was permanently connected in a similar manner with the gigantic dynamo at Niagara Falls—set the regulator of his “Electric-flash” at “.017 Seconds,” pushed a button which shut off the helicopter, yanked back the lever which collapsed it into its overhead pocket; and, as he heard the heavy copper plates bang shut over all, he closed his eyes and touched the final button.