Turning on his radio transmitter, Jack said into the microphone, “This is a Yee Company repairship. Jack Bohlen asking permission to land on the McAuliff strip, in answer to your call.”
He waited, and then there came the answer from the huge ranch. “O.K., Bohlen, all clear. No use asking what took you so long.” McAuliff’s resigned, grumpy voice.
“Be there any minute now,” Jack said, with a grimace.
Presently he made out the buildings ahead, white against the sand.
“We’ve got fifteen thousand gallons of milk here.” McAuliff’s voice came from the radio speaker. “And it’s all going to spoil unless you get this damned refrigeration unit going soon.”
“On the double,” Jack said. He put his thumbs in his ears and leered a grotesque, repudiating face at the radio speaker.
2
The ex-plumber, Supreme Goodmember Arnie Kott of the Water Workers’ Local, Fourth Planet Branch, rose from his bed at ten in the morning and as was his custom strolled directly to the steam bath.
“Hello, Gus.”
“Hi there, Arnie.”
Everybody called him by his first name, and that was good. Arnie Kott nodded to Bill and Eddy and Tom, and they all greeted him. The air, full of steam, condensed around his feet and drained off across the tiles, to be voided. That was a touch which pleased him: the baths had been constructed so as not to preserve the run-off. The water drained out onto the hot sand and disappeared forever. Who else could do that? He thought, Let’s see if those rich Jews up in New Israel have a steam bath that wastes water.
Placing himself under a shower, Arnie Kott said to the fellows around him, “I heard some rumor I want checked on soon as possible. You know that combine from California, those Portugees that originally held title on the F.D.R. Mountain Range, and they tried to extract iron ore there, but it was too low grade, and the cost was way out of line? I heard they sold their holdings.”