Why Do Birds

CHAPTER 10

Douglas R. Pearson III had an edge office on the seventy-ninth floor of the Seemans Building; it wasn't a corner office, of course, but it had a corner because it was part of the structure that protruded from the tower and cast a shadow on the other parts. Which really was the whole point. From his desk he could look out over the East River in one direction and the gold-topped towers of lower Manhattan in the other. On some days he simply sat and watched the helicopters buzzing around the rooftop pads to the east; on other days, when the smog was too thick, he watched the smog.

"Mr. Stone is here, " said the computer on his desk. Pearson dropped a half-eaten candy bar in a drawer, closed the drawer, and said, "Send him in."

The young man entered, advanced with his hand out.

His grip was firm, but Pearson felt a curious cold sensation.

"Sit down, Mr. Stone, and tell me how First Boston can help you."

Stone sat in the visitor's chair and put his curious hat on his knee. "Mr. Pearson, thank you for seeing me. Did Mr. Schoenstein tell you anything about my problem?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, he said you want to organize a project to put the whole human race in a box."

"That's right, and I talked to some architects, they say they can design it, but before I can go any farther I have to get funding. Mr. Schoenstein says his bank isn't big enough, so that's why I came to you."

"I understand. What do you estimate the cost of this project might be?"

"Well, Mr. Chang said he thought about two trillion dollars."

"Um-hm. Now, Mr. Stone, you realize we are an investment bank. Ordinarily, when we lend money, we want to know what the return is going to be."

"Yes, I know that. I've tried to figure out how you could make money out of this, but the only thing I can think of is to charge admission."

"To visit the project, do you mean?"

"Well, that too, probably, but I was thinking, if everybody who got in the box had to pay something? I mean, if it costs two trillion dollars and there are six billion people, that's only about three hundred bucks apiece."

Pearson picked up a scriber and twirled it between his fingers. "I see one difficulty with this. If that idea works out, and I don't see why it shouldn't, the bank will have its money back, but there won't be anybody left to operate the bank, or anything to invest the money in."

"Well, that's true."

"I mean, everybody is going to be in the box. By the way, how will they breathe in there?"

"They're going to be in suspended animation."

"Oh, I see. Like the Egyptians?"

"I guess."

"Well, fine. Now, from what you tell me, I think this proposal should go to the International Development Association. McNevin Fairbairn is the man to see, and he's in town now. I'll give him a call if you like and set up an appointment.''

"That would be swell. Mr. Pearson, one other problem I have is money. For myself, I mean. I've been borrowing from people, but then I have to borrow more to pay them back, and Mr. Schoenstein said what I ought to do is ask you for a line of credit."

"Well, that could be arranged, certainly. How much do you think you'd need?"

"I'd like to have enough so I could travel, and stay in hotels and so forth, until this project gets started, but I don't know how much to ask for."

"Well. When the project is funded, I imagine you'll have an official position and a salary. But I see the difficulty until then. Suppose we set you up for two years to start with, say a million four? Does that sound all right?"

Stone swallowed. "Yes, sir. I can't get used to these numbers."

"Well, you'll find it gets easier as you go along."