And in the meantime we worked with our proxies, I attempting to establish some means of quietly obtaining the metal we needed, and Ven doing nothing so far as I could determine that would further our mission. At that, Edith was in no position to obtain metal, and Ven was too young and inexperienced in contact work to attempt a mission of such delicacy. Since Edith amused her, I was content to leave them both to their own devices while I worked with Donald to speed our departure.
"In this society," I said to Donald, "it seems that one can accomplish anything with this medium of exchange you call money."
"That's close to a fundamental truth," Donald replied.
"And you are not too well supplied with it?" I asked.
"Those four ingots I brought you last week put a vicious dent in our savings account."
"Isn't your trade as an author profitable?"
"Only in spurts. It's a feast-famine existence. But it's the only one I care to lead."
"But popular fiction makes money—and you can write."
"I wish you'd tell that to my agent. He seems to have other ideas."
"I have recently read some of your fiction," I said, "and have noticed that it has certain basics that could easily be applied to an analyzer. There is no reason why we could not cooperate and produce a work that would yield a great deal of money."