“Sure.”
The president started to sit at the kitchen table and found himself staring at Rip’s Winchester. “This thing loaded?”
“Yep,” Rip said flatly.
The president gingerly eased it to one side of the table and dropped into a chair. O’Reilly remained standing in the doorway. From time to time the chief of staff glanced at the television.
“Folks, we have ourselves a real mess here,” the president declared. “The press and the public are convinced that you have a bunch of formulas for some real high-tech drugs on that computer you took out of Rip’s saucer.”
Egg started to speak, but the president stopped him with an upraised palm.
“We know you have it. Everyone on the planet knows you have it. And the public won’t take no for an answer.”
“It’s private property,” Egg pointed out as he handed the president a cup of black coffee. “I have the law on my side and I have possession. I’m keeping it.”
“Is there a formula for an antiaging drug on that thing?”
Egg knew this question was coming, and he still didn’t know exactly how to answer it. He stood there blinking while he made up his mind. After a moment he nodded, once. Yes.
“I want the formula.”
“No,” Egg said forcefully. “You don’t.” He repeated his arguments about the drug distorting the economy by artificially extending human life, talked about the ecological damage that would result from an ever-increasing human population and explained that the species would become extinct as all those people gobbled up the earth’s resources. He finished with the remark, “You and Congress can’t even balance the government’s budget, and now you want to repeal the law of evolution? The expanding population of hungry people will result in anarchy, here and abroad. The future will become a horrible nightmare for everyone on the planet. Do you want our species to become extinct? Giving mankind this drug will accomplish just that, and in the not too distant future. This drug is the purple Kool-Aid.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe the beetles will win after all.”
The president let Egg have his say. When Egg fell silent, he said, “I’m inclined to agree with you. On the other hand, America is a democracy. If a significant majority of the voters want this drug, they are going to find a way to get it. Hell, we can’t even stop people from using marijuana, heroin and cocaine.”
“No,” Egg said.
“How about you, Solo? You know the formula for this drug?”
“Mr. President,” said Adam Solo, “the networks are turning over every rock, questioning people all over this planet about me. No doubt your FBI and police agencies can and will join the investigation. Sooner or later your investigators will learn enough of the truth to guess at the rest. I was a pilot of a saucer that landed some years ago. I have not aged since then. The conclusion will be inescapable: I know the formula and how to manufacture the drug, and I have extended my life by using it. So I admit it to you, here and now.”
“Well,” the president said after examining Solo’s face and scrutinizing the faces of Rip, Charley and Egg. “Well, well, well.” He looked again at Solo. “When did you arrive on earth?”
“About a thousand years ago.”
The president’s mouth fell open and he stared at Solo.
“Mr. Cantrell is right, and you know it,” Solo said forcefully. “The existence of this drug commercially will doom the human species. The desire to acquire and use it, at whatever price, will be irresistible for a great many people. Too many. The economy will crash, the planet will be raped, and humanity will become extinct.”
The president took his time answering. When he spoke, he said, “In a democracy the people get to make their own mistakes.”
Rip snorted. “When this cat gets out of the bag, no one will ever be able to put it back in. The damage will have been done.”
The president smashed his fist on the kitchen table, making his coffee cup and the rifle jump. “You think I am the dictator of the world? I’m just an elected public official, and there’s another election coming along — there always is. People are putting excruciating pressure on their senators and congressmen. They are elected officials too.”
He waved his arm at the window. “You know what’s out there. Four hundred people and television cameras piping signals all over the globe. That’s the world we live in. They want it and they’re going to get it, one way or the other. Now, your choice, quite simply, is whether you are going to give up the formula willingly or wait a short while to get run over by the train.”
Solo looked from face to face, then turned to the president. “I’ll write it out for you.”
“The hell you will. I take a piece of paper home and give it to the FDA and meanwhile you people boogie. Then the formula turns out to be fiction. You’ll make me look like a goddamn fool.”
“Which you are,” Charley Pine said to his face.
The president ignored her. “I want Egg’s computer,” he said. “The wizards can get the formula off of that thing, and whatever happens, I won’t get covered with crap.”
They argued for several more minutes. P. J. O’Reilly weighed in when the president ran out of words, issuing threats. Egg ignored him, helped himself to more coffee and sipped it.
Finally even O’Reilly ran down.
Reluctantly Egg opened the kitchen cupboard and took a computer case from the top shelf.
“No, Uncle,” Rip said. “Screw ’em all. Don’t give them that thing.”
“You shouldn’t,” Charley said, grasping Egg’s arm.
“We don’t have a choice,” Egg said, resigned. “This fool wants to give the human race a suicide pill, and we don’t have any way of preventing it.” He stepped toward the president and started to hand him the case, then drew it back.
“You must get all those people the hell off my farm. Go outside, hold a press conference, then have the Secret Service run everyone off. I can’t live like this. And I won’t.”
“They’ll be gone before the helicopter is out of sight,” the president promised and took the case from Egg’s hands.
The president was almost right. He held his press conference, gave the cameras a good look at the case in his arms, then boarded the chopper. The helicopter was over the horizon when the television crews began breaking down their equipment and loading it in their trucks.
“What do you think will happen when the president finds out the computer is smashed?” Rip asked Egg.
“Won’t be pretty,” Egg said.
Rip went to the back of the house and watched Secret Service agents there herd the crowd away. The men with the submachine guns weren’t tolerating lollygagging. The sheriff and his fat deputies got busy directing traffic.
Grabbing a garbage bag from Egg’s kitchen stash, Rip tossed in a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, some cold cuts from the refrigerator, two six-packs of bottled water and all the canned soup the bag would hold.
Fifteen minutes after the helicopter departed, the last of the television trucks and vans headed off up the road to the gate. The Secret Service agents rode along with them. The sheriff was the last man to drive away.
“Well, folks, let’s get out of Dodge while we still can,” Egg said. Solo hoisted his backpack, and Rip, Egg and Charley picked up pillowcases containing clothes. Rip grabbed the black garbage bag full of food and water, then had another thought. He handed his bag to Solo and went back to the kitchen for his rifle.
They gathered on the front porch.
Solo said, “I hope the comm gear in your saucer works and I can send my messages. Then all I must do is wait. Are you sure you want to leave here?”
Egg spoke first. “You’ve been waiting a thousand years, you said.”
“Believe me, I had given up hope of ever living until this day,” Solo replied. “A few more weeks or months or even years won’t matter much.”