"I wish you wouldn't ask me questions like that, Joe. When I say that it's impossible, I mean just that. You'll just excite yourself needlessly by listening to foolish rumors...."
Krieg pounced on the word jubilantly. "What do you mean, rumors? Then there has been someone who bought his way in! Who was it, Steen? I swear, if you don't tell me, I'll move heaven and earth to find out."
Consolator Steen seemed to consider for a moment, then sighed. Hooked. "All right, Joe. But believe me, you'll wish you hadn't asked. For what happened to ... to this other person is unattainable to you."
"Who was it?" Krieg asked excitedly.
"Who was the richest man who ever lived, Joe?"
"You mean...."
"Who was it that founded the University you went to, the hospital in which you were born? Who gave a magnificent library to every city in the known universe, who was it...."
Krieg interrupted. "Old C. T. himself...."
Steen nodded. "Yes, old C. T. Anderman himself. Years ago, Joe, he faced the same problem you face now, and he reacted the same way you have. So he set out on a campaign to get into Manhattan the only way he knew how—with money. There was one difference, Joe. Where you are fabulously wealthy, C. T. Anderman was wealthy beyond all dreams. Do you know that he gave away more than one quintillion credits—gave it away! Just to make his name universally known. 'The Philanthropist of the Galaxy,' they called him. One quintillion credits! No wonder they voted him a hero's grave. But what the press and the public never knew is that it cost him more than twice that much—for he had to spend another one quintillion credits for bribes and influence. It took him fifty years, Joe, to pack the Galactic Congress with enough of his men to swing the trick. But he finally did it."