The Rival Rigelians

The other shook his head. “Not especially. I believe we all know where we stand, including the newcomers from Genoa and Texcoco. In brief, this is the fourth meeting of the Earth teams that were sent to these two planets to bring backward colonists to an industrialized culture. It would seem that we are both succeeding—possibly at different rates. Forty years have passed. Ten remain to us.”

For a moment there was silence as those present thought back over the years.

Finally, Natt Roberts said, “Possibly you have already discovered this, through your agents, but we have released the information on prolonging of life.”

Peter MacDonald, heavier than ever, wheezed, “We too were pressured into such a step.”

Baron Leonar said, “And why not?”

Taller, across the table from the Genoa merchant, nodded his stern face in agreement.

Martin Gunther tapped twice on the table with his gavel. “The basic reason for our meeting is to report progress and to reconsider the possibilities of new elements having entered into the situation which might cause us to re-examine our policies. I think we already have a fairly good idea of each other’s development.” His voice went wry. “At least our agents do a fairly good job of reporting yours.”

“And ours, yours,” Barry Watson rapped.

“However,” MacDonald said, “now that we are drawing near the end of our half century, I think it becomes obvious that Amschel Mayer’s original contention—that a freely competitive economy grows faster than one restricted by totalitarian bounds—has been proven.”

Barry Watson snorted amusement. “Do you?” he said. “To the contrary, MacDonald. The proof is otherwise. On Genoa you still have comparative confusion. True enough, several of your nations, particularly those on your eastern continent, are greatly advanced and with a high living and cultural standard—when times are good. But at the same time you have other whole peoples who are little, if any, better off than when you arrived. On the southern continent, you even have a few feudalistic regimes that are probably worse off, largely as a result of the wars you’ve crippled them with.”

Natt Roberts took it up, his voice musing. “But even that isn’t the important thing. The Co-ordinator sent us here to find a method of bringing backward cultures to industrialization. Have you got a blueprint to show him when you return? Can you trace out the history of Genoa for this past half century and say, this war was necessary for progress—but that war should have been avoided? Or is this whole free competition program of yours actually nothing but chaos which sometimes works out wonderfully well for some nations but actually destroys others? You have scorned our methods, our collectivized society—but when we return, we’ll have a blueprint of how we arrived where we are.”

Gunther banged the table with his gavel. “Just a moment. Is there any particular reason why we have to listen to these accusations when…”

Watson held up a hand curtly. “Let us finish. If you have something to say, we’ll gladly listen when we’re through.”

Gunther was flushed but he snapped, “Go ahead then, but don’t think any of us Genoese are being taken in.”

Barry Watson said, “True enough, it took us a time to unite our people…”

“Time and blood,” Peter MacDonald muttered under his breath.

“…but once under way, the Texcocan State has moved on in a progression unknown in any of the Genoese nations. To industrialize a society you must reach a certain taking off point, a point where you have sufficient industry, particularly steel, sufficient power, sufficient scientists, technicians and skilled workers. Once that point has been reached you can move ahead in almost a geometric progression. You build a steel mill and with the steel produced you build two more mills the following year, which in turn gives you the material for four the next year.”

Fredric Buchwald grunted his disbelief.

Watson looked up and down the line of Genoese, the Earthmen as well as the natives. “On Texcoco we have now reached that point. We have a trained, eager population of over one billion persons. Our universities are turning out highly trained effectives at the rate of more than twenty millions a year. We have located all the raw materials we will need. We are now under way.” He looked at them in scornful amusement. “By the end of the next decade, we will bury you.”

Martin Gunther said calmly, “Are you through?”

“Yes. For the time,” Watson nodded.