Why Do Birds

CHAPTER 26

In the well-lighted conference room in Washington, Robert Morganstar was saying, "Here's our concept for the body carriers. Now in working with the Cube design group, they say all the carriers have to be a standard size and shape, and the Social Planning group wants flat sides and square comers, in order to maximize interior space, but they also asked us if we could come up with something that looks streamlined. Okay, we start with the basic shape, just a box." An image came up in the holo.

"Looks like a coffin."

"Yes, that's the problem. But now we put some spin on it." The image slowly shifted, acquired colors and contours rather like racing stripes on a car. The comers appeared to recede, the top looked curved. There were gasps of admiration.

"And, of course, we can do anything we want with colors, according to local tastes. Here's our silver-white, we think that'll be very popular in the U.S. and most of Europe. But white is the color of mourning in China, so here we have our Chinese red, for good luck and prosperity. Here's your basic Shiite black, and here's the New Age psychedelic model."

"I think that's superb, Robert."

"And, you know, if these designs tum out to be too expensive or take too long to manufacture, we can put people in the expensive ones and then transfer them to the basic model, and recycle the other ones."

"You're calling these body carriers?"

"Just an engineering term. We've got a team working on other phrases for PR."

"How about 'space capsules'?"

"That's on their list, I think, for advanced countries. But the Psychology group says a lot of people are scared of anything to do with space, and they're pushing 'life capsules,' which sounds too much like medicine to me, but it's not my field."

''Call from Mr. Rong,'' said the computer on Mrs. Rooney's desk. "He says he's a friend of Ed Stone. "

"Oh! put him on."

The blurry image of a young black man appeared in the tube. "You ain't Mr. Moore," he said.

"I'm his secretary, Mrs. Rooney. How may I help you?"

"Well, see, I'm a friend of Ed Stone, and he forgot to give me his address, like, when he moved. So I thought, see, you guys must know where he's at. I know he's been looking for me, and I got something for him."

"We can't give out addresses, Mr. Wrong, but I could forward a letter to him."

"No, see, that would take too long, because this stuff I got for him, it won't keep, do you understand?"

"Yes, I do, Mr. Wrong. Let me suggest something. Tell me where you can be reached, and I'll try to get Mr. Stone to call you."

"Okay, tell him to leave a message at Tony's, okay? He knows where it's at."

"Tony's. All right, Mr. Wrong."

"Thanks a bundle." The image dwindled and disappeared.

She said, "Flossie, who was that senator who appeared on the holo news last week with Ed Stone?"

Images flickered in the holo, settled down to the image of a silver-haired politician with the legend "SENATOR GIVENS" at the bottom.

"Yes, that's the one. Call his office in Washington. I'll talk to anyone."

The computer simage disappeared and was replaced by a flashing sign, "CALLING." Then a new simage, a pale young brunette with a noble brow. "Senator Givens's office, may I help you?"

Mrs. Rooney said, "This is the office of Yallow and Moore in New York. We have an urgent message for Ed Stone. Will you have him call me, please? Ask for Mrs. Rooney."

An hour later, almost at quitting time, the computer said, "Call from Ed Stone. "

"Put him on!"

Stone's face appeared in the tube. "Hi, Mrs. Rooney, how are you?"

"Oh, Mr. Stone, how nice. You know, I didn't like to disturb you, but I couldn't help wondering, don't you need a secretary? Because, if you do--"

"Gee, Mrs. Rooney, I guess I do, because the phone calls and letters are driving me crazy. I got a bag of mail in my room right now, it would take me a year to answer all those letters."

"Well, I can give two weeks' notice here, or perhaps a little less-I'll work it out. Where are you staying now?"

"I'm at the Ambassador in Washington, but I'm coming back to New York tomorrow, and I'll be at the Park Avenue. Give me a call there, okay?"

"I certainly will. Oh, and by the way, you had a call from a Mr. Wrong. He wants you to leave a message at Tony's."

"He does? Okay, thanks, Mrs. Rooney. "

"Mr. Prime Minister," said the aide, "allow me to present Mr. Ed Stone." He bowed and stood aside.

The Prime Minister of Ghana said abruptly, "You have previously talked to my enemy, General Mbele. I agreed to see you only because my son-in-law interceded. You may speak, but I do not promise to listen."

"Mr. Prime Minister, I had to talk to General Mbele first so that I could get him to agree to stop his bombing ofyour country, and then-"

"He agreed to stop? He will not keep his agreement."

"Yeah, Mr. Prime Minister, he wants to meet you and have a peace conference, but he knows you're mad at him, so he made me promise to tell you myself. "

"Well, this puts a different face on it." The Prime Minister advanced around his desk. "Allow me to shake your hand. Please sit down. You say Mbele wants to meet me? I may consent. I am pleased with you, Mr. Stone. I may give you a decoration. Mr. Sukulu, what decorations do we have?"

"The Order of the Mighty Lion, Mr. Prime Minister, and the Order of the Resentful Hyena. Then there is-"

"Stop. I think the Lion, don't you, Mr. Stone? We will have the ceremony after the peace conference. Mr. Sukulu! Notify General Mbele that we will meet him on the border, say at Porto Novo, on Monday next at nine o'clock in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

"And now, Mr. Stone, you must tell me all about the aliens, and about putting everyone in a box."

"Yes, sir. Well, they say the Earth is going to be destroyed eleven years from now, and that's why we have to do it. And that's another real good reason to stop the war, because people who get killed can't get in the box."

"Quite true, Mr. Stone. I like the way you put it. If they are killed, they cannot go in the box. And if they go in the box, they cannot be killed, you see." He laughed heartily. "I have made a little joke. I see that we shall get along famously, Mr. Stone. Now we must have some gin."