What a wonderful future it must be, he thought. Wishing machines! How marvellously civilised! All a person had to do was think of something. Presto! There it was. In time, perhaps, they’d eliminate the red button. Then there’d be no manual labour involved.
Of course, he’d have to watch his step. There was still the owner—and the rest of the A’s. They would try to take the machine from him. Probably, they were a hereditary clique …
A movement caught the edge of his eye and he looked up. The Utilizer was quivering like a leaf in a gale.
Collins walked up to it, frowning blackly. A faint mist of steam surrounded the trembling Utilizer. It seemed to be overheating.
Could he have overworked it? Perhaps a bucket of water …
Then he noticed that the Utilizer was perceptibly smaller. It was no more than two feet square and shrinking before his eyes.
The owner! Or perhaps the A’s! This must be the micro-transfer that Leek had talked about. If he didn’t do something quickly, Collins knew, his wishing machine would dwindle to nothingness and disappear.
“Leek Protection Services,” Collins snapped. He punched the button and withdrew his hand quickly. The machine was very hot.
Leek appeared in a corner of the room, wearing slacks and a sports shirt, and carrying a golf club. “Must I be disturbed every time I—”
“ Do something! ” Collins shouted, pointing to the Utilizer, which was now only a foot square and glowing a dull red.