Now, with Nim once more in the witness chair, the presiding commissioner was saying, "I remind the witness he is already sworn . . ."
When the preliminaries were over, Oscar O'Brien began, "Mr. Goldman, how many shares of Golden State Power & Light do you own?"
"One hundred and twenty."
"And their market value?"
"As of this morning, two thousand one hundred and sixty dollars."
"So any suggestion that you, personally, are likely to make a lot of money out of Tunipah is . . ."
"Ridiculous and insulting" Nim snapped before the question could be completed. He had personally asked O'Brien to get that into the record, and hoped the press would report it-as they had Birdsong's charge about profiteering. But Nim doubted if they would.
"Quite so." O'Brien seemed taken aback by Nim's intensity. "Now let us go back to the environmental impact statement about Tunipah. Mrs. Carmichael in her testimony argued that . . ."
The idea was to counteract testimony by opposition witnesses which had been erroneous, excessively prejudiced or incomplete. Nim wondered, while responding to O'Brien's questions, what effect it would all have. He decided: probably none.
O'Brien concluded in less than half an hour. He was followed by Holyoak, the commission counsel, and Roderick Pritchett, neither of whom gave Nim a hard time and both were mercifully brief.
Which left Davey Birdsong.
The p & lfp leader indulged in his characteristic gesture of passing a band through his bushy, gray-flecked beard as he stood regarding Nim.
"Those shares of yours, Goldman. You said they were worth" Birdsong consulted a slip of paper-"two thousand one hundred and sixty dollars. Right?"
Nim acknowledged warily, "Yes."
“The way you said it-and I was right here, listening; so were others -made it sound as if that kind of money was just peanuts to you. A ,mere' two thousand, you seemed to say. Well, I guess to someone like you who's used to thinking in millions, and riding around in helicopters..."
The commissioner interrupted. "Is this a question, Mr. Birdsong? If so, please come to the point."
"Yessir!” the big man beamed toward the bench. "I guess it's just that Goldman here gets under my skin because he's such a big cheese, or acts that way, and can't understand how much that kind of money means to poor people . . ."
The commissioner rapped sharply with his gavel. "Get on with it!"
Birdsong grinned again, secure in the knowledge that however much he might be scolded, the chances of being cut off entirely were remote. He turned back to Nim.
"Okay, here's my question: Did it occur to you that money like that -'mere thousands,' as you put it-means a fortune to a lot of people who will have to foot the bill for Tunipah?"
"In the first place I didn't say 'mere thousands,' or imply it," Nim retorted. "You did. In the second, yes it did occur to me, because that kind of money means a lot to me too."
"If it means that much," Birdsong said quickly, "maybe you'd like to double it."
"Maybe I would. What the hell's wrong with that?"
"I'm asking the questions." Birdsong smiled maliciously. "So you admit you'd like to double your money, and maybe you will if this Tunipah deal goes through, won't you?" He waved a hand airily. "No, don't bother answering. We'll draw our own conclusions."
Nim sat, fuming. He saw O'Brien watching him intently, trying to convey a message: Watch yourself! Be wary and moderate.
"You said some things about conservation," Birdsong resumed. "I have some questions on that too."
During the re-examination by O'Brien, conservation had been mentioned briefly. It gave p & lfp a right to raise the subject now.
"Do you know, Goldman, that if big, rich outfits like Golden State Power spent more on conservation instead of on multimillion dollar rip-offs like Tunipah, we could cut the use of electricity in this country by forty percent?"
"No, I do not know that," Nim shot back, "because a forty percent saving from conservation is unrealistic and a figure you probably pulled out of the air, the way you do most of your other accusations. The best that conservation will do-and is doing already-is help to offset a part of new growth and buy us a little time."
"Time for what?"
"Time to let the bulk of people realize they are facing an electrical crisis which can change their lives-for the worse-in ways they never dreamed of."
"Is that really true?" Birdsong taunted. "Or isn't the real truth that Golden Power doesn't want conservation because conservation interferes with profits?"
"No, it isn't the truth, not any kind of truth, and it would take a twisted mind-like yours-to suggest or believe it." Nim knew he was being baited, and was rising to the bait, probably just as Birdsong intended. Oscar O'Brien was frowning; Nim looked the other way.
"I'll ignore that nasty remark," Birdsong said, "and ask another question. Isn't the real reason you people aren't working hard at developing solar energy and wind power-which are available now-is because those are cheap power sources, and you wouldn't make the huge profits you expect from Tunipah?"
“The answer is 'no,' even though your question's a distorted half-truth.
Solar electricity is not available in sizable amounts, and won't be until the turn of the century at the earliest. Costs of collecting solar power are extremely high-far more than electricity from coal at Tunipah; also, solar may be the biggest polluter yet. As to wind power -forget it, except for peripheral, small applications."
Above Nim, the commissioner leaned forward. "Did I understand you, Mr Goldman, to say that solar power can pollute?"
"Yes, Mr. Chairman." the statement often surprised those who hadn't considered solar in all its aspects. "With today's technology, a solar power plant with the same output that we are proposing for Tunipah would need one hundred and twenty square miles of land just to house its collectors. That's roughly seventy-five thousand acres-two thirds the size of Lake Tahoe-compared with three thousand acres required by a conventional power plant such as we are proposing now. And remember-land used for those solar collectors would be shut off to any other use. If that isn't pollution . . ."
He left the sentence unfinished as the commissioner nodded. "An interesting point, Mr. Goldman. One, I suppose, that many of us hadn't thought of."
Birdsong, who had been standing impatiently during the exchange, resumed his attack. "You tell us, Goldman, that solar power won't be ready until the next century. Why should we believe you?"
"You don't have to." Nim slipped back into his earlier manner, making his contempt for Birdsong clear. "You can believe or disbelieve anything you want. But a consensus of the best technical judgments, made by experts, says that large-scale use of solar electricity is twenty-plus years away; even then it may not fulfill expectations. That's why, in the meantime, there must be coal-burning plants like Tunipah-and in a lot more places than just Tunipah-to meet the coming crisis."
Birdsong sneered, "So we're back to that fake, make-believe, phony crisis."