On Antimony IX, the little divers switched from one space-time point to another simultaneously, and the baby diver had come back from the Solar Party Convention the same way. I thought of it and it came; Florence had just thought of it and here it was. But now it seemed to be flitting lightly from Earth to Jupiter and back with diamonds, so perhaps there was no interplanetary distance to a mind.
This had a future. I could see myself with a winter and a summer planet of my own, even happily paying Earth, Solar and Galactic taxes.
"Well, honey, don't you worry," I said. "You don't like divers, so I'll take it back and give you something else. Just leave it to Sol."
"Take your foot off that diamond, Sol Jones! You gave me this dear little diver and he's mine!"
She sat back on her heels and thought. The evidence of her thinking immediately came trickling through the door—Venusian opals set in a gold bracelet half a pound heavy, Martian sleeze furs, spider-web stockings, platinum belts. The room was beginning to look like a video fashion center, a Galactic merchandise mart. And after Florence put on a coat and opened the door, her ideas began to get bigger.
"This is fun!" she cried, teleporting like mad. "Why, I can have anything in the Galaxy just by thinking about it!"
"Now, honey, think of the benefits to humanity! This is too big to be used for personal gain. This should be dedicated—"
"This is dedicated to me, Sol Jones, so just you keep your fingers off it. Why, the cute little thing—look, he's been out to Saturn for me!"
I made a decision. Think wide and grand, Sol Jones, I said. Sacrifice yourself for the greater good.