INTRODUCTION
Francisco Baltzer (1927-2005) wrote two stories in Más Allá, "The Factory Ship" ("La nave factoría", #12, May 1954, credited as "Franz Baltzer") and "Summer Vacation" ("Veraneo" #20, January 1955), and at least three other science fiction stories published posthumously, possibly as many as five.
For bibliographic information on posthumous stories, see the Tercera Fundación record: https://tercerafundacion.net/biblioteca/ver/persona/13436?info=originales
See Carlos Abraham's "Las revistas argentinas de ciencia ficción" for biographical information and further background on Más Allá.
For complete scans of Más Allá, including the illustrations, see: https://ahira.com.ar/revistas/mas-alla-de-la-ciencia-y-de-la-fantasia/
SUMMER VACATION
At first, it took him an effort almost beyond his will. He himself, and his teachers, thought that he would fail several times. But in the end, he emerged as the top graduate in his class. Now the new and strange form was so familiar to him that it presented no difficulty at all. He felt almost comfortable using just two legs, two arms, and only two of his eyes.
While savoring a succulent "banana-split", sitting in one of those dairy bars he found so endearing, with interest he watched those nervous, chatty bipeds entering and leaving the enormous building across the street.
This was already his 53rd hunt on this planet, "Heliton 3," and he already knew it better than the shells of his claws. He recalled that what he was seeing was an amusement center the size of a city (the natives called it "Mar del Plata"), and the enormous building across the street was called a "Casino." One of the most interesting vices of this race was cultivated there, and it was the subject of passionate study. But Limo knew that something else also happened to the bipeds there, something that went unnoticed by the astral tourists who visited this "Type IV" culture. The tremendous success of his hunts was due to this simple discovery. He had learned that in and around the "Casinos," the natives didn't pay as much attention to their moral scruples, especially when they lost large sums of money. Then they became susceptible to any temptation, and their character was considerably weakened.
This discovery was Limo's professional secret, and he was very careful not to reveal it to anyone.
At that moment, he saw a middle-aged, portly, very well-dressed native emerge from the enormous door of glass and bronze. Limo immediately liked his intelligent face and considered him a potential target. He vibrated his frontal antennae, now cleverly concealed among the hairs on his head, which he wore in the custom of the planet's inhabitants.
He managed to connect with the biped's thoughts and learned that the individual's name was Chango Demartino. He realized that "Chango" wasn't his real name, even though it was so strongly associated with that personality. This happened to him before, and he was used to such a peculiarity. He learned that the biped in question was a "stockbroker" (a new concept), that he was married to a female biped named Laura, that he just lost all his money gambling, and that the only personal property he had left was an automobile, kept in an underground garage about two hundred meters away. He also learned that he had several debts and couldn't help but notice his desperation to get some money so he could continue playing the game called "Punto Banco"...[Translator's note: A simplified version of Baccarat]
Very well; he could give him the money; it was very easy to copy those little colored pieces of paper that were so important here. That would be the first step toward getting in touch with Chango Demartino. All he needed was to obtain, even if just for a second, an authentic bill.
Limo thought for a moment and then knew how he would do it. He stood up and approached the biped in charge of collecting the losses. As usual, they were hidden behind an enormous, primitive calculating machine.
- "Good evening, boss," Limo saluted him in a most perfect "porteño" accent. [Translator's note: From Buenos Aires.] He prided himself on mastering it perfectly. He wasn't like those vulgar tourists who, in order to go unnoticed, had to use dialects from other parts of the world so they'd be mistaken for foreigners.
- "Good evening," replied the man behind the enormous calculating machine, "how may I help you?"
- "Forgive me for asking, but if I leave you this ring, would you lend me a frigate for half an hour?"[Translator's note: The 1000-Argentine-peso bill has a frigate on the back. 1000 ARS in 1955 is approximately equivalent to 400 USD in 2025.]
* * *
The boss looked at Limo with distrust, then looked at the ring, which was a diamond of indisputable value.
- "And who's gonna guarantee that this isn't just some hunk of junk?" he began to argue.
But the dorsal antennae, hidden beneath the elegant sport coat, began to vibrate at the individual's mental frequency, and there was no longer any resistance. The man thought it was the most brilliant business opportunity and gladly accepted the deal. He opened the box and handed him a brand-new thousand-peso bill.
That was all Limo needed...
- "How much do I owe you for the banana split?" he asked before leaving.
- "It's on the house, man," the boss replied.
As he walked out, he stuffed the bill into his back pocket. That's where he kept his replica transmuter, which automatically started its work.
Meanwhile, Demartino walked out along the "Rambla" and let the cool night air caress his face. He was accustomed to the ups and downs of life, and this wasn't the first time things went badly for him. But this time it was worse. He had positively ended up on the streets. The temptation to keep gambling was terrible. There were some of his clients' funds in his bank account. He was thinking about how easy it would be to write a check and continue gambling with someone else's money. But at that precise instant, a clear-cut idea crossed his mind. It was a simple and practical idea: What if he could get someone to lend him money on the Buick convertible he parked in the Casino garage? Money lent for just five hours, enough money to play hard, money to recoup everything he'd lost. After all, so many things can happen in five hours...
It was already midnight, and it would be a bit difficult to find someone willing and with enough coin to fund the operation. There, on the corner, next to some fashion store's elegant windows, a newspaper and magazine vendor was standing. Maybe he knew someone.
- "Listen, kid," he greeted him, "you know a lot of people around here, don't you?"
- "Depends," the other replied, studying him curiously.
- "It's about fronting some cash for a car, you get me?"
- "Ah... when do you need it?"
- "Right now, man."
- "Can't do it... I could find out tomorrow for you."
- "I could lend it to you," Limo's voice was then heard. "But only for a few hours, and it depends on the collateral."
For Demartino, those words were like the most beautiful of songs. Of course, he'd accept any condition... If his luck turned around, and he was sure that it would, he'd return everything in spades.
- "It's a Buick convertible, latest model. How much would you lend me?"
- "Eighty thousand," Limo replied in the most perfect salesmanlike tone. "Eighty thousand 'til five in the morning, with no interest or surcharge."
Demartino tried to resist that price, which seemed excessive. The car was worth more than double that. But the temptation to see eighty frigates together was stronger.
- "Agreed, señor... What's your name?"
- "Call me Cacho, that'll do just fine."
Demartino accepted, albeit reluctantly, to deal with a man who wouldn't reveal his identity. But if he wanted the money, he had no other choice.
- "Very well, señor Demartino," Limo said finally when he had studied the documents. "The registration is in order. I'll keep the registration and the keys, and you can have the money." With that, he took a brand-new wad of eighty thousand-peso bills from his back pocket, the same place where he stashed the thousand-peso bill just a moment ago. These bills were an absolutely faithful reproduction of the real thing. What's more, they were even better, as the molecules of these papers could no longer be altered by the action of any chemical agent.
When Demartino saw that money together, he no longer doubted his luck and, without hesitation, signed the bill of sale that Limo brandished under his nose. And with that, the first contact with this individual could be considered a success.
Limo then began to vibrate his four antennae, the two frontal or perceptive ones, and the two dorsal ones, which were the volitional ones. He connected the impulse amplifier and managed to communicate with the chronodescriptive recorder at his base...
Twenty-four light years away, a tape recorder captured the following message:
“Heliton 3-hunt No. 53 - Register male biped under No. LQ-374 (Chango Demartino in local dialect) - First contact positive - All rights reserved - Signed: Limo, unique document No. 59421-471.”
* * *
The croupier at table five couldn't believe his eyes when he looked up from the cards he was shuffling. There, in the same chair as before, sat that señor Demartino again. He'd seen him walk away half an hour earlier, after losing an incalculable fortune... Frankly, some people never learn anything!
- "How are you, señor?" he greeted him with his friendliest smile, as the man always left him substantial tips. "I see you're determined to get even... Let's see if it goes any better for you this time around."
- "That's it," he said, settling into the chair and taking out the wad of bills. "Start me off with ten thousand."
The croupier, who was sitting opposite them, counted out ten of the thousand-peso chips and tossed them in an elegant curve onto the felt in front of Demartino's seat.
- "First Banca up, place your bets!" the croupier was heard saying.
- "A thousand this way," said a fat man sitting on the other side in a calm voice.
- "Two thousand," our friend retorted decisively. It was already past one in the morning, and although the Punto Banca tables are busy at that hour, the eyes began to focus on him. The fat man gave up, and there was no other offer.
- "Two thousand pesos on the Banca," the croupier said. "Señores!... Place your bets."
The chips were placed on the felt. Demartino impressed everyone with his strong Banca, and the players' preference was clear. Only a few skeptics placed their chips on Punto.
- "No more... Cards!..."
With the steady, calm fingers of a hardened gambler, Demartino took his cards out of the shoe. An elderly lady, with her hundred-peso bid, led the Punto. The lady showed a four and a two.
- "Cards six," the almost mechanical voice of the croupier was heard.
Demartino then showed a king and an eight.
- "Eight to six... Banca wins." - A sigh ran through the group around the table. - "Four thousand pesos in the Banca... Place your bets, señores! Place your bets!"
But everyone left their chips in the Banca, hoping they'd keep multiplying.
This time, the Punto drew three and the Banca drew seven. Once again, Banca won. Now some of the surrounding players were already beginning to stir with optimism. Many withdrew their bets and switched to the Punto, others remained undecided, and the bravest followed our friend, who continued with his bet on the Banca.
- "Four thousand pesos on the Banca... Place your bets, señores!..."
Demartino already passed the limit and received the four of the thousand-peso chips he won on the last play... Yes, luck started to remember him once again.
On this play, the Punto, where the largest bet was now held by an elegant young gentleman, led out a five and a three, or eight. Everyone gasped when a queen appeared... But underneath was a nine. And once again the Banca won. Demartino smiled with satisfaction, led out half the bid, and continued with the Banca. Now he had blind confidence and was passionately happy...
The scene was being observed by two astral tourists who were standing nearby. Anyone would have mistaken them for two foreigners, Swedish or something like that. Their names were Cotal and Runo. No one could imagine their true, natural giant insect form.
Cotal started to vibrate his four antennas to contact Runo.
- "This native cult is the strangest thing we’ve seen so far on this excursion through 'Heliton 3.'"
- "No, Cotal," Runo replied, his antennae vibrating in turn. "The instructions say this is a vice. But it's certainly very interesting."
- "Are you sure?... Look, the two bipeds in black, who are giving and taking the circles, are very similar to the priests of 'Ipton 7'..."
- "No, Cactal, no... This is a 'Type 4' culture; on 'Ipton 7' they have a 'Type 3' culture... Here, religious cults are similar to political harangues: one biped speaks and the others listen."[Translator's note: 'Cactal' present in source, either typo or nickname]
- "Perhaps you're right, you always were more studious than me... But what annoying forms these individuals have! I'm sick of not being able to stretch my middle pair of legs and having four of my eyes covered by these absurd hairs..."
- "Well, just hang on a minute, the transporter chamber will be back to get us soon. I'm noticing something that's disconcerting, as it doesn't match the instructions in the catalog."
- "What's that, Runo?"
- "It turns out that, as you may have noticed, the sexes are clearly differentiated, and a male and a female always live together, forming a basic group, which in the local dialect is called a 'marriage.'"
- "Yes, and what's happening with this curious situation?"
- "Tune in to that individual who's gathering more and more circles, to the obvious delight of those around him. When you do, you'll realize that he has the subconscious mark of being 'married,' and yet, right now, he doesn't have his mate, despite having a moment of supreme happiness. The moral basis of what they call 'marriage' is that they share their sorrows and happiness together."
- "That's right, the catalog is wrong. We should complain."
- "No, wait... It may be that vice has indeed so dominated him that it makes him forget moral precepts... How interesting!. . ."
- "Why don't we go find the female? It would be interesting to know what she's doing right now."
- "Yes, let's see if we can tune in to her." - And he connected the impulse amplifier.
- "There she is!... In a strange building, performing a dance with another biped and in the middle of a strange party that's taking place in dim light."
- "Let's go, hurry up."
An elegantly dressed pair of gentlemen descended the wide staircase of the Casino. Judging by their manners and appearance, they must have been foreigners, possibly Swedish or something something like that, going by their style. The people who saw them must have thought they were a little drunk, because their steps were shaky. But otherwise, there was nothing unusual about them, and no one paid much attention to them.
* * *
LIMO arrived, walking through the tunnel that connects the Casino to the underground garage. He observed the marble columns with interest, as he couldn't understand how those slabs of pressed pebbles could support the weight of the enormous building he'd seen above. The same thing happened to him with the immense vaults he saw inside. He was sure that in a "Type 4" culture, there was no telescopic suspension for buildings.
He stood up and took his replica transmuter out of his back pocket. It was a small, round, flattened metal device about ten centimeters in diameter. From the side, he unwound a thin wire with a microscopic suction cup at its tip that allowed it to adhere firmly. He connected the wire to one of the columns and pressed a button in the center of the device. A click was heard, and in the palm of his hand, which held the transmuter, a marble cube began to form. Or rather, a cube of ground marble particles regenerated by the cement molding process, according to the most modern industrial system known on "Heliton 3."
When the cube reached a size of about three centimeters, Limo cut the communication with the column. He put the cube in his pocket. He would analyze it back at the base, but he doubted the results would shed any light on the problem.
He continued through the tunnel and entered the garage. The attendant was leaning against the fender of one of the cars, smoking a cigarette. Limo approached the man and greeted him with a "Good evening."
- "Good evening, señor," he replied.
- "Say, do you know where señor Demartino's car is?... It's a Buick convertible."
- "Yes, I know him very well; he's the third row back... Why?"
- "I'm a friend of señor Demartino's, and he told me to wait for him in his car."
- "But the car's locked."
- "That doesn't matter; I'll wait by his car until he comes."
There was a squeal of tires, and a sleek black Cadillac rolled down the ramp and stopped in front of the tunnel entrance. The attendant ran to open the door. Limo took advantage of the opportunity to disappear into the row of cars.
Footsteps echoed on the cement floor, and the diffused light from the columns reflected off the impeccable lacquer of the luxurious vehicles. He finally found the one he was looking for. He verified that the license plate number matched the one on the receipt in his hand. He made sure there was enough space, then connected the wire from the replica transmuter to the Buick's bumper, and immediately set it on the ground.
He had some time to wait and took the opportunity to communicate with the thoughts of the "biped LQ-374". . .
He discovered that things weren't going as they should be. Limo's idea was for the individual to take up the vice and lose as much money as possible. But... what was happening?... He already earned a whopping forty thousand pesos!... That was completely against Limo's plans.... That needed to rapidly change....
He connected the impulse amplifier and regulated the vibrations of his antennas with the greatest finesse he was capable of...
Up until that point, Chango Demartino was winning by relying on his instinct as a player. He was on a "streak". He "felt" about the game and knew that now, after two Bancas and a Punto, he should give up Banca again. He "knew" it, and he already had his hand with the chips on the part of the felt corresponding to the Banca... However, without knowing why, he deflected them toward the Punto and left them there.
- "Seven to four, Banca wins," came the croupier's voice. The mahogany saber, manipulated by the payer, swept away the four thousand-peso chips...
Of course, he knew he had to give himself the Banca. And that's what came from not trusting his gut feeling. Now he was baffled: he didn't know how to play; he was "out of sync." He should have waited two or three moves to get a feel for the game again. However, he got confused and bet on Punto again.
- "Natural nine, Banca wins." - And again the mahogany saber took four thousand chips. The disaster begun...
Down in the underground garage, Limo smiled contentedly. Within an hour or two, his victim would be poorer than a rat, willing to make the most desperate decisions, which he would instill in his brain.
He went back to concerning himself with the replica transmuter. There were now two Buick convertibles parked there, identical to each other right down to the forgotten cigarette butt by the gas pedal. But it was time to break the connection, because next to the two cars, fixed on the ground, the four wheels of a third could be seen, their shock absorbers already starting to form.
Limo grabbed the transmuter and reversed the current. Immediately, the process reversed, and the four remaining wheels began to fade. He watched closely. Just as the last particle of rubber disappeared, he disconnected the transmuter. Then he coiled the wire and put the strange circular device back in his back pocket.
Limo's antennas now vibrated on the wavelength that was reserved for all the automatic vehicles he could manufacture. The commands he gave to the synthetic car were precise, and the new creation began its first independent work. First, the glass molecules positioned themselves so that as light passed through them, it was refracted and absorbed with such finesse that it created the optical illusion of a biped sitting behind the wheel. After this, he created the hum of a chemical combustion engine, in the style of a "Type 4" culture, and the vehicle began to move. It climbed the ramp, turned onto Avenida Colón, and raced toward the Esplanade.
According to the local time, it was almost two in the morning, and there weren't a lot of cars out. However, the synthetic Buick adapted perfectly to the traffic laws, and the few drivers who saw it were slightly amazed to see how scrupulously it kept in its lane and how it stopped at every corner, signaled with its blinkers, and started up again. It was a car driven by the most responsible driver who'd ever lived. Arriving at the Esplanade, it parked, turned off its lights, and waited for further instructions.
* * *
COTAL and Runo, the two astral tourists, walked up to a door illuminated by a beautiful electric sign. They heard music and the sound of voices, as if there was a party.
- "You see?" Runo vibrated telepathically with his antennae. "This is what appears in the catalog as a 'boîte'; here they dance and cultivate another very interesting vice. It consists of exciting the nerves with toxic liquids that give them the illusion of happiness."
- "I always admire your breadth of knowledge, Runo," Cotal replied. "You know the catalog by heart... So this is called a 'boîte'? How interesting!... Are you sure we're going to find that vicious gambler's wife here?"
- "Positively; I've got her tuned in quite well."
The two entered and found themselves in a dimly lit environment. A significant number of pairs of bipeds moved in the center, performing a dance to the accompaniment of sounds made by five individuals wielding noise-making instruments. Other bipeds sat around tables, and a small group sat on strange, long-legged chairs lined up along a counter. They recognized it as one of the illustrations in a travel catalog: it was called a "bar."
Cotal and Runo walked over to that spot, which seemed the most comfortable. On those stools, they could stretch their hind legs a little without attracting attention. Plus, they didn't have to flex their abdomens, as they did when sitting on ordinary chairs. This was always terribly uncomfortable for them.
They walked a distance of five blocks, which, compared to bipeds, was an appreciable effort, and were thus thirsty.
- "You, you're the expert in indigenous languages," Cotal quivered, "see if you can get us some water to quench our thirst; I'm dying of heat."
- "Don't worry, I know a few words in the local dialect," Runo replied, "and I can also exhale, making phonetic vibrations almost as well as a native."
- "Just remember, please, that a lot of toxic liquids are ingested here."
- "I told you not to worry."
Then the bartender approached them.
- "What can I get you, señores?" he asked with a gentle smile.
Runo and Cotal couldn't understand the spoken words, but they did telepathize the meaning of the question.
Among the few local dialect words Runo knew were "water" and "burn." He knew the latter meant "heat," but he didn’t know it was a verb. It was moment to prove his intellectual superiority to Cotal, and phonetically speaking quite well, although his exhalation was rather staccato, he said: "Wa-terburn-swe-llhave", which sounded to him like "Water burns we'll have" but telepathically it would have sounded like: "Water, how hot we are," as the concept of "burn" was identical to that of "heat."
The barkeep, in turn, understood this as: "Give us some aguardiente."... [Translator's note: Literally 'burning water', spirits between 29% and 60%, sometimes referred to as brandy or schnapps. "Agua" (water) and "arder" (burn) are the words Runo tries to say in the previous paragraph.] He poured them some aguardiente. Cotal and Runo downed it in one gulp, and by the time the burning sensation hit their throats, it was too late. But by a rare coincidence, the aguardiente was in the refrigerator, which greatly disguised the taste. Furthermore, the coldness of the liquid served to illustrate the strange warmth. The idea that astral beings like them could make such a simple mistake would never have occurred to them.
- "There she is," Runo vibrated with some excitement. And, indeed, there was Laura Demartino, Chango's wife, sitting at a table, chatting with a handsome young man.
- "Let's tune into what they're talking about, shall we?"
- "Agreed."
And the two of them tuned the vibrations of their front antennas to the telepathic wavelength of Laura and her partner.
- "...And you let him gamble away all the money. But, Laura, how is that possible...! I think you need to do something."
- "I've tried several times, Diego, but it's no use; when the vice takes hold of him, there's no stopping him... You see me here, he even forgets about me..."
- "That's the last straw. If I were married to a woman like you, I wouldn't leave her alone even for a moment," and as he said this, he looked at her with enamored eyes.
- "I often think it would be better if we were poor. Then he wouldn't have the money to indulge in vices," Laura replied, her expression turning sad.
But at that moment, the music stopped and all the lights went out except for a small spotlight, which illuminated a beautiful young woman with blond hair. She was sitting on one of the barstools, not far from Cotal and Runo.
The young woman began to sing, accompanied by a piano. And everyone there fell silent to listen. It was one of those soft, romantic songs. The beautiful voice, the alluring figure, the personality of this girl seemed to have captivated them all.
Runo, a little enraptured by the happiness he could telepathize in that whole environment, and a little dazed by the alcohol circulating in his body, was gradually losing control of his senses.
The bartender had already refilled the glasses for the third time. Runo brought his to his mouth when the hand he was using suddenly took on its true form. It turned into a set of crusty claws, black and shiny.
- "Ha ha, that's a good one...!" - the nasal voice of the biped sitting next to Runo was then heard. - "What a good trick. Say, how do you do it?..." - And saying this, he pointed with his finger.
When Runo realized what had happened, he dropped the glass in shock. It shattered on the floor with a loud crash. A murmur of discontent was heard throughout the room. Some burst out laughing.
Runo managed to control himself enough to slip the claws into his coat pocket and hide them from the curious eyes with which everyone was watching him. Suddenly, he felt dizzy. He tried to vibrate the claws to communicate with Cotal, but he couldn't...
Cotal, meanwhile, had realized everything that happened. But he saw two images, and sometimes three. With a terrible effort, he tried to analyze this strange phenomenon. He feverishly thought that Runo's strange reactions, and his own, were due to the fact that he had been poisoned...
He, too, tried to vibrate his antennae to communicate this to Runo, but he couldn't do it either. Now he became very afraid and connected the impulse amplifier, but handled it very clumsily.
The blonde girl, despite the small tumult that arose at the bar, continued singing. But when Cotal made a mistake while manipulating his impulse amplifier, a high-pitched, metallic tone came from the loudspeaker, and the microphone the girl was holding shorted out. Feeling the electric shock, she let out a shriek and gave it a hard shove. The microphone wobbled and fell on the shoulders of a biped. This biped, feeling the current, began to scream for help. This incident was enough to turn the friendly atmosphere into complete chaos...
Three waiters strode up to the bar and, grabbing Cotal, Runo, and the drunk man sitting next to them by the shoulders, pushed them toward the door.
When they were almost at the street, the bartender caught up with them.
- "The bill, señores!... Yours is one hundred and twenty pesos," he said to the other one. "And you two owe me one hundred and eighty."
Cotal and Runo understood very well the meaning of what he was saying. They remembered that the catalog explained, in great detail, this taboo of reward, called "paying." But they had never been in the situation of actually having to make a payment themselves. It hadn't even occurred to them to go to the trouble of making some money with their replica transmuters. However, they were intelligent enough to have solved such a problem, which was actually quite simple.
But the effects of the alcohol they'd ingested were becoming increasingly worse. Their thoughts were slower and more difficult. They had to concentrate all their attention and all the willpower they had left to maintain their biped form. Who could know how these individuals would react when encountering an unknown lifeform, which is always terrifying to them? On other planets, they already suffered accidents due to the same cause. Furthermore, they didn't carry weapons of any kind, because that was prohibited for any astral being. The only ones who had that right were the supervising automatons. Therefore, against these natives, they had no defense other than the mimicry...
The bartender kept demanding his money, and the waiters, thinking they were playing dumb, grew increasingly assertive. And the only thing they were able to do was to remain in their biped form. The situation was getting truly unpleasant... And to think that some eccentrics were saying that traveling to planets with inferior cultures was boring!
* * *
- "HERE, this should keep you going" - the employee said who was carrying the metal box, and he deposited it with a loud crash on the table where Juan José Fernández, cashier No. 26, was sitting. He barely had time to look up and smile at his colleague, who had already walked away again.
Juan José Fernández had been sitting at his desk since 11:30 pm. He'd been there, in the casino's accounting room, collecting bills for more than three hours straight. And always, with astonishing regularity, a new batch of money arrived... Did the people in the gaming room never get tired of losing?...
Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred... With long-rehearsed, almost mechanical movements, he arranged the wad of bills, inserted it into the small electric press, and pushed a button. A whir and a click. The press placed the perfectly ironed, compact little packet back on the table. Fernández wrapped it with a strip of paper. A little brush of paste, glue it, seal it, sign it...
Another little packet of one hundred ten-peso bills... It was the last of that batch. He placed the thousand pesos on the conveyor belt on his right side.
On his adding machine, he punched the amount, the last on a long strip, removed the paper, and entered it in his cash book. He hadn't even finished this task when señor Contreras, the department boss, was at his side. Señor Contreras was the only one authorized to open the small steel boxes that arrived from the gaming tables. With studied movements, he grabbed the newly arrived box and inserted the complicated key into the lock. The box opened and spilled its contents onto the table.
Fernández immediately started gathering the thousand-peso bills with his expert hands, dropping them into a small wire basket. When not a single thousand-peso bill remained in the mountain of paper money, he arranged the ones he separated and began counting them.
The first packet of one hundred thousand-peso bills was almost ready when he thought he noticed something strange. He recounted the bundle, and did so more carefully. Seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three... There it was!... Two bills with the same number, 02,000,575. If it hadn't been for the three zeros followed by the palindrome, he might never have noticed. But since it was an uncommon number, he subconsciously gave it more attention.
- "Señor Contreras!... Señor Contreras!..." - he started to call.
The more he looked at the two thousand-peso bills, the more he marveled. He didn't dare say which was the real one... They were identical!...
- "What's up, Fernández?" the boss asked.
- "Just look... see for yourself" - and he handed him the two bills.
Contreras whistled in admiration:
- "It's one of the best I've seen when it comes to counterfeit bills."
- "What if they're both fake?" Fernández asked.
- "Yes, that's a possibility... The best thing would be to review the entire shipment. Gather all the thousand-peso bills and come to the security office, I'll wait for you there" - and he hurried out to file the complaint.
Fernández gathered the bills in a basket. Finally, something different from his monotonous life as a cashier. Deep down, his soul felt happiness. Who knows, maybe his name would even appear in the newspapers!... Because this wasn't a common occurrence, even he could see that...
Upon reaching the wide corridor, he began searching for the right door. Finally, he saw one marked: "Department of Finance. Casino Security and Surveillance." Inside, he heard agitated voices and entered without knocking.
A major commotion had already broken out there. Just at that moment, another employee entered the room. He was young and wearing a white lab coat.
- "This is the last straw!" he shouted. "How can I analyze this banknote when I can't even dissolve the ink... Not a single chemical reaction is working!"
- "Did you try X-rays?" Inspector Chirriaga asked, a burly man with an intelligent visage, who was leaning against the wall.
- "Seen through X-rays, the two are identical, Inspector."
- "But then, can you at least distinguish the authentic from the counterfeit?" he asked impatiently.
- "It's not a counterfeit!" the chemist replied nervously. "It's the best banknote ever made... It's ten times better than the real thing!"
- "But can you distinguish between the two of them?" the inspector asked again, this time in a more forceful tone.
- "Any child could do that!... It's the simplest thing: you can break the real ones with just your fingernails; even fire can't destroy the imitations... Look!" He lit a match and held it to the paper money.
- "You're crazy! You're going to destroy the only evidence we have!"
But the young chemist only let out a nervous laugh. The flame of the match licked the paper, without doing the slightest damage, as if it had been a piece of iron or glass.
Amidst the silence that fell as everyone stared in awe at the paper that refused to burn, the timid voice of Fernández, the cashier, was heard.
- "With your permission, señores; I have all the thousand-peso bills here from the same batch."
- "Ah, very good," said Inspector Chirriaga. "Check the serial numbers, see if there are any more."
Three security personnel immediately began to carry out the order, but no other bill with the same number appeared. The young chemist, with a suspicious expression, took out a penknife.
- "Would you allow me to perform a slightly drastic test, Inspector?"
- "Yes, yes, go ahead," replied Chirriaga, who was still shaken by the previous experiment.
Then the chemist, using the tip of the penknife, began to make holes in all the bills. But on the fourth, the blade slipped, and the point couldn't penetrate.
- "Yes, yes I thought so... Here's another one."
With this system he identified thirty-nine individual counterfeit banknotes.
- "And they're not sequentially numbered," the inspector said despairingly. "It's the most extraordinary counterfeit in history."
The young chemist shook his head in bewilderment.
- "It's like they're from another world," and when he said this, he didn't even remotely imagine that he was telling the truth.
* * *
LIMO stood at the foot of the enormous staircase leading up to the Casino hall. He amused himself by watching the nervous crowd, constantly moving up and down the luxurious marble steps covered with red carpet.
He had just telepathed Chango Demartino, and knew he was coming through the gaming room and would soon be seen appearing on the stairs. The poor fellow lost all the money he'd been lent for the Buick. So things were going very well for Limo. Demartino was desperate, ready to accept any proposition.
Here he comes!... He was descending the stairs, hands in his pockets, a cigarette pressed between his lips, disillusioned. He only had four more steps to go before he was next to Limo. But suddenly, two young, athletic men discreetly approached, and positioned themselves on both sides of Demartino, obliging him to accompany them.
It happened so suddenly that it took Limo a few seconds to realize what happened with Chango Demartino. He only then noticed that four individuals were strategically positioned along the staircase and were now moving with the clear intention of blocking Demartino's path if he tried to escape.
He devoted his full attention to analyzing them and came to the surprising conclusion that they were surveillance personnel. This situation was completely unexpected for Limo. He knew that there were no supervisory automatons on this planet and that any police action was carried out by individuals of the same race, grouped in an organization of uniformed people. He knew all this; but what he had never seen was secret police come into action. Since all astrals were telepathic, the mere idea that there could be a secret or disguised police force made so little sense, as it was something that seemed absurd to him.
It took a long time before he had a perfect grasp of the situation. But then he began to act with great speed and precision.
He started to analyze all the cerebral circuitry of these policemen, anxious to learn the reasons for their conduct. He soon learned that it was the banknotes that his replica transmuter manufactured, and realized the magnitude of the disaster that it caused. When he learned all this, he briefly doubted whether he could solve the problem alone. Perhaps it would be more convenient to raise the alarm and call for help from the base, thus taking full responsibility and confessing that he made a mistake.
But after thinking it over a little more, he decided to wait half an hour to see if it was still possible to fix it on his own.
He then approached one of the staff, and nervously grabbing one of his jacket pockets, began to shout:
- "My wallet!... My wallet!..."
The staff member standing nearest to him immediately approached.
- "Casino Security and Surveillance" - he said, displaying a badge - "What's wrong, señor?"
- "My wallet!... It must have just been stolen... I just got off the telephone in one of the public phonebooths, and I still had it there."
- "Maybe you lost it in there, señor," the security guard then said. That was exactly what Limo wanted, and they walked together to the phonebooth that he indicated. They carried out a thorough but fruitless search. The wallet, as expected, was nowhere to be seen. But suddenly, taking advantage of his companion being distracted, Limo took out his replica transmuter and threw it in one of the corners. The tip of the wire with the small suction cup, stuck to one of the security guard's shoes. Now, under the pretext of continuing his search for the wallet, Limo mananged to keep them closeby, checking the carpets. And so he managed to detain the man long enough to duplicate him.
- "You'll have to report it to the lost and found office," the employee finally said. "I can't waste any more time on such a trivial matter."
- "Very well," Limo replied after glancing at a clock he'd embedded in the wall and making sure the contact was maintained for the necessary time required for the duplication. "Thanks a lot anyways. Good night."
And when the security guard walked away, he surreptitiously stepped on the very thin contact wire, which was barely visible on the thick carpet. He managed to detach the suction cup from his shoe, breaking the connection.
In the small phonebooth, however, another José Alonso stood. Identical, down to the last hair of his beard, to the real security guard. But he had a synthetic brain in his abdominal area several times smarter than the real José Alonso's.
* * *
"COME on, man," Inspector Chirriaga said furiously, addressing Demartino. "Do you think we're going to believe that story about you selling your car?... Come on, why don't you confess that you forged them?"
- "But I swear to you I don't know anything about any counterfeit bills... Why don't you look for that Cacho who bought my car?... He's the one who puts them into circulation..."
-"Ah-ha, so Cacho is one of your accomplices..." Inspector Chirriaga interrupted him abruptly, trying to rattle his nerves.
- "No, no... I don't know anything..."
Chirriaga sighed. After half an hour of interrogation, he still hadn't come up with anything clear. He picked up the pack of cigarettes on the table, intending to smoke one, but saw that the pack was empty. He furiously crumpled it up and threw it on the floor.
An officer poked his head around the door.
- "They've already located all the bills, señor. There are exactly eighty of them, just as the suspect stated."
- "Thank you very much" - and turning to Demartino: "Well, it looks like you've at least told me the truth there..."
The telephone rang and the inspector picked up the receiver.
- "Okay, I'll send him over to you now," he replied after listening to a short message, and hung up. "We're going to turn the case over to the Federal Police, señor Demartino; the truck is already waiting to take you; good night... You can take him away, boys."
Two security guards, who until then had been sitting against the wall, stood up. One of them took out a pair of handcuffs and hooked Demartino's right wrist to his left wrist. After this operation concluded, they led the detainee away. Before they went out into the corridor, they were given a briefcase containing the counterfeit banknotes, which they were to also carry as evidence.
In silence, they walked down the corridor and took an elevator, which led them to a small garage in the basement of the building. There, they boarded an armored truck guarded by two uniformed police officers. The door closed heavily behind them, and the truck started moving. These precautions, somewhat exaggerated for a single man, demonstrated the importance that high circles placed on the discovery of those bills. It seemed obvious that this must be a very important organization, and they didn't want any mistakes.
The truck's occupants didn't exchange a single word during the drive, the only sound was the monotonous hum of the engine. With a brief squeal of tires, the vehicle turned onto the Avenida Pueyrredón.
- "Stop here!" one of the security guards then said to the driver. When he looked around in surprise, he found the barrel of an automatic pistol pointed at his back. "Behave yourself, lads, or I'll fill you all with lead..."
The one speaking was the man who was handcuffed to Chango Demartino. The others stared at him in amazement, as if they couldn't understand what he was saying. But the truck stopped dead. With rapid movements, the man grabbed the briefcase, opened the heavy armored door, and dragged Demartino out. At that same instant, a sharp braking sound was heard. A black Buick convertible, which Chango recognized as his own car, pulled up next to them. The door opened, the two of them jumped in, and the car sped off again, driving away at high speed.
All this had happened so quickly that it took more than a minute for the truck's occupants to react...
The same thing happened to Demartino. And when he finally regained his voice, he began to shout, rebuking and accusing Limo, who was driving the car.
- "Mugger!... Gunman!... Not only did you lend me the cash on unfair terms, but to top it all off, you paid me with counterfeit cash... And now this!... Do you realize?... Now the whole country is going to think I'm your accomplice..."
- "That's an undeniable truth," Limo replied in the calmest voice in the world, as he abruptly turned around a corner.
- "But!... And my good name?... Look, the police are going to arrest you someday, and then I'll sue you in court and ruin the rest of your life."
- "Keep it calm, friend..."
- "Look who's talking about calm!"
- "Yes, man... The only person the police know about is you; all the evidence points to you. It's lamentable, but that's how it is. I confess that I'm very sorry... It all came down to a tiny mistake..."
- "But..."
- "I'm determined to do whatever it takes to make up for the trouble I've caused you. I have the most powerful means at my disposal."
- "But I don't make deals with criminals."
- "Listen to my offer first... You're free to leave and reject it."
Chango Demartino didn't answer just then. The new tone Limo gave to the conversation somewhat enlivened his business acumen, and he continued listening with curiosity.
- "One of our investments," Limo continued, "is a subdivision near here. We're building a new resort there, which will be one of the most luxurious in the world, and will serve to increase the value of the land before we put it up for sale. We've already invited numerous foreign personalities with the goal of making the place popular. We could also include you and your wife. We'd pay for your stay for as long as necessary. In the meantime, I'll take care of eliminating any evidence there might be against you, and once everything is arranged, you can return to Buenos Aires, or wherever you like. I can't return the car, but I'll pay you its actual value plus compensation of one hundred thousand pesos. It's understood that this transaction will be in real money." And as he said this, he couldn't contain a smile. Then he continued, "We'll send you the sum total over a five-thousand-peso-per-week remittance, to ensure that you'll keep your mouth shut regarding this matter."
A while passed without Chango Demartino answering, but Limo wasn't worried. He knew very well that Demartino's financial situation was bordering on bankruptcy and that his proposal was his last chance to rebuild the fortune he squandered in gambling.
To put a little pressure on things, he telepathically suggested to him a terrible fear of the police, who would be constantly chasing him. And then an even greater fear of poverty.
- "It seems like I have no other choice," he said finally.
- "Good," Limo replied, "then we can go find your señora." With a cheerful grin he added, "I've already figured out where we can find her."
Faced with such efficiency, Demartino didn't know how to reply. He himself hadn't seen her since the previous afternoon, and it would have been impossible for him to say where his wife was now...
Without anyone speaking, they continued running through the streets. So far, they hadn't noticed any signs of being pursued. Limo's plan was coming together perfectly...
* * *
Now Cotal was standing on his four hind legs, his two front legs, equipped with a set of claws that served as hands, were leaning against the wall. His pointed ant-like head wobbled with incoherent movements, causing the front antennae to become more and more entangled with those on his back. Because of this, he couldn't detect any vibrations, which was reflected in the dazed expression of his six eyes, arranged in groups of three on each side of his head. He must have been close to fainting, because his skin, tough and shiny, lost all its pigmentation and was nearly transparent. Human clothes hung over every part of his body, completely disarrayed, some in tatters, the seams no longer able to withstand the strain.
The space was so small that Runo, in turn, had his legs intertwined with Cotal's. Runo's condition wasn't much better than Cotal's, but he was more conscious and could still control his pigmentation somewhat. His body displayed a disordered succession of colors, covering the gamut of the entire spectrum.
Just at that moment, Runo's tortured mind was outlining a plan as complicated as it was grotesque. It involved connecting the replica transmuter to the "WC" door and causing it to multiply indefinitely, thus placing an ever-increasing space between them and the bartenders. With the other transmuter, or the one belonging to Cotal, connected for the reverse procedure, he would gradually dissolve the interior of the doors. And within the void thus created, the two of them could escape unseen. But his drunken mind couldn't comprehend that this would cause the walls and the entire building to collapse, since no structure can withstand the indefinite increase of a mountain of doors within it. Furthermore, the void he wanted to create would be an airless dungeon where they would be trapped.
He already managed to unwind the contact wire, but it became tangled between his legs. He forcefully pulled at it, unable to untangle it. He didn't notice that, in doing so with such poor luck, he touched the master button that he initiated the reverse procedure. Everything that came into contact with the small suction cup at the end of the wire would immediately disintegrate in the form of primary radiation. But at that critical moment, the call of another astral body penetrated his mind, and a very strong impulse of will, sent by someone unknown, made him dazed. The same thing happened with Cotal. There was no resistance, and the two immediately entered a state of hypnotic trance.
Obediant to an imparted order, Cotal mechanically slid the bolt, and the door immediately opened. But the biped waiting there wasn't one of the bartenders, but the camouflaged figure of Limo himself.
He noticed the grave state of the two astral tourists, who seemed more poisoned than drunk. The first necessary measure was to provide them with a larger dose of oxygen. The hydrocarbons contained in the alcohol they ingested had disrupted the extremely delicate metabolism of these beings to such an extent that organic combustion was several times greater, and the normal amount of oxygen contained in their blood was insufficient to maintain vital processes. Without help, it wouldn't have been long before the two would have died of anoxia.
He gave them both a sufficient dose of a chewable paste, rich in oxygenated compounds, which was included in every portable first-aid kit for explorers.
Cotal and Runo's improvement was almost instantaneous. The next step was to force them both to channel their thoughts into the mental exercise that preceded all mimicry. Limo's hypnotic powers were more than sufficient to accomplish this. And indeed... little by little, the epithelial muscles began to contract, the legs shortened, hair began to sprout on the heads, the faces became rounder, the immense abdomen began to contract. Everything was going according to plan.
But Limo hadn't thought to check Cotal's transmuter, which was still connected in reverse. The small suction cup on the wire made contact with Cotal's right hind leg, and the tissue immediately began to disintegrate. The astrals were all vaccinated with an alarm reagent to prevent such accidents. But before the transmuter circuits could be neutralized by the reagent's action, a good portion of the leg was damaged.
Fortunately, the hypnotic state canceled out the nervous sensations, and thus he was spared enormous suffering. And this accident happened just now, when everything was going so well!... But he largely deserved it for his carelessness... Limo corrected the transmuter and continued with his hypnotic-telepathic instructions to finish with them as quickly as possible.
They had arrived at the "boîte" with the sole purpose of finding Laura, Chango Demartino's wife, and then continuing their journey as quickly as possible. And it was then that Limo perceived the vibrations of his two brethren, who must be nearby. A short greeting vibrated, but he received no response. And suddenly he realized that something very unpleasant must be happening to them.
Well, he'd gotten them out of trouble, but he was going to report them as soon as he got back to the base. He'd use every bit of his influence to get their galactic tourist licenses revoked. What those two had done was inconceivable. They'd violated at least three safety rules...
But now it was necessary to leave this planet “Heliton 3” as soon as possible, because in a little while it would be dawn, and the transport chamber would pass by the agreed upon place in exactly eighteen minutes, in local time.
Outside, Chango and Laura Demartino were waiting, sitting in the synthetic Buick. He explained that two other gentlemen would be coming with them, two foreign guests, and that he was taking advantage of this trip to bring them.
It turned out to be the most convincing way to tell him, since he had to borrow money from Laura to pay Cotal and Runo's bar bill, claiming that the two men didn't have any change in local currency.
When the three astrals left the "boîte," Laura recognized the others as the cheerful drunks from a while ago. She wanted to start a conversation with them, but the two sat in the back seat and immediately fell asleep.
- "Let's leave them alone," Limo justified. "It seems they've had a little too much fun."
Laura wasn't aware of the deal that Chango made; she only knew Limo invited them to spend a few days at a new resort. Despite this, she wasn't surprised that Limo was driving the car, since Chango generally didn't like to do it at night.
Before picking up Laura, Chango and Limo stopped by the hotel and packed everything they needed for a long weekend into a small, elegant suitcase. They could start their trip right then and there.
* * *
LIMO was driving quite fast. It was a good thing there was little traffic; if he wanted to get to the prearranged destination on time, he had to hurry.
They reached a straight stretch. The engine roared when Limo accelerated to the limit. It was exactly 5:20 in the morning. In the distance, where another curve appeared to start, the glow of headlights appeared and quickly approached. They must have been from a truck or a bus, because they still seemed too far away to be so dazzling.
Chango Demartino began to get restless. The headlights were now unbearable, yet they continued to increase in intensity. Laura grabbed Chango's arm and screamed. A ball of light, absurdly bright, hurtled toward them. The last thing they saw was a flash of blue-white light; afterward, they were blinded for a few seconds.
When they could see again, the car had just rounded a curve, and everything seemed to be going much better. Demartino recovered from his shock fairly quickly, and by pure chance, he looked at the clock on the dashboard. He noticed, surprised, that it was a little after five-fifteen. He could have sworn that, just a moment before, the clock had read twenty past five. He wondered for a moment if something was wrong with his nerves, but he shrugged his shoulders and didn't give it much thought.
They arrived right at breakfast time. It was a truly beautiful place, beyond anyone's wildest dreams. A bay surrounded by splendid mountains, sometimes interrupted by steep rocky cliffs, and lush tropical vegetation that filled everything with its stunning colors. The shores, lapped by a metallic blue sea, were of an almost white sand. Small dunes followed one another, interrupted by clumps of palm trees. The houses stood at the foot of the mountain slopes, bordering a modern avenue that followed an irregular layout.
Laura and Chango couldn't believe their eyes. The car stopped in front of a small, luxurious bungalow, with a modern and functional design. It belonged to a group of similar buildings, all clustered around a beautiful clubhouse overlooking the beach.
They entered and found everything ready to welcome them. In the closets were clothes tailored to their exact measurements, and breakfast was ready in the kitchen.
- "What a beautiful place!" Laura said, hugging Chango. "I could stay here forever."
Limo closed the door in silence and walked out onto the beach. He smiled happily as he watched the waves crashing into crystal-clear foam. And he was still smiling when a jeep pulled up next to him, digging its thick tires into the sand.
- "Nice to see you, Limo" - the young man driving it vibrated.
- "Nice to see you," he replied, vibrating his greeting. "You can take me to the base now; I need to report in this very minute."
No sooner had he settled into his seat than they sped off down the beach, occasionally dodging the groups of carefree bathers who waved at them with cheerful gestures.
* * *
A black Buick convertible sped past on the Mar del Plata esplanade. In its rapid racing, it almost grazed a police van parked next to the curb. The two policemen that occupied it shot up in their seats. Turning on the headlights, starting the engine, and taking off - it was almost a single action... They were the first to locate the counterfeiters' car!... The entire police force was mobilized for an hour, and up to that moment, no one had seen them.
The news was broadcast over the radiotelephone, and about twenty cars and trucks, spread throughout the city, began to move.
It seemed like this time luck favored the representatives of the law. The fact that the criminals were still within the city was extraordinarily favorable for the police. All the exits were blockaded, and now the only task left was to surround them.
The chase became increasingly violent, because the Buick drivers were speeding as fast as they could, and they had already managed to thwart two attempts to cut them off.
They were now in Camet, and their attitude reflected a firm determination to make their way toward Buenos Aires. When they had two cars and a pickup truck less than fifty meters behind them, the furious chase approached the highway patrol checkpoint that marks the beginning of Route 2. They hadn't fallen asleep there, and everything was ready to receive them in the way they deserved. When they were only a few meters away, a huge semi-trailer truck started moving and crossed the road, completely blocking it. The Buick's tires began to emit a high-pitched squeal; it skidded on the shoulder and, in the middle of a spin, embedded itself inside the semi-trailer. The roar of the collision mixed with the noise of a gasoline explosion, turning everything into a spectacular blaze.
Although several men with fire extinguishers immediately sprang into action, it took ten minutes before anyone could approach the vehicle. That time was enough for the last particles of the two synthetic brains to disintegrate into a state of primary radiation.
The car was the real Buick, and Chango and Laura's two imitations were so good that no doctor could tell the two charred heaps from real corpses. The only difference would have been the synthetic brains, and these had disintegrated by their own action.
With this accident, the most extraordinary case of currency counterfeiting in recent years was closed. The perpetrators were burned to a crisp, and all evidence was destroyed along with them. But it was a night that everyone involved would long remember.
* * *
LIMO was truly an imposing figure. Seeing him standing on his four hind legs, his athletic, firm body and antennae curved in artistic patterns, inspired awe in anyone.
He adopted an emerald green color with pearly gray fluorescent flashes: the famous color of the explorers, which only they were capable of reproducing, and was the golden dream of any astral teenager.
He just arrived at the training base command post and was having a friendly conversation with the director of the institute, who seemed very happy to see him again.
- "I'm in agreement with you," the director vibrated at that moment. "I'll give you my full support in getting those two scoundrels, Cotal's and Runo's, astral tourist licenses revoked."
- "Galactic tourism is an exact science," Limo affirmed. "All unserious elements must be eliminated..."
He was interrupted by the vibrorecorder on the table. It started repeating a report, and the telepathomechanical vibration communicated the following: “Heliton 3 - Hunt No. 53 - Biped Pair No. LQ-374 - Subconscious in order - Physical state in order - Cultural development in order - No trace of memory indicates they noticed change of planet - No. LQ-374 approved.”
- "Congratulations, Limo," the director vibrated happily. "The specimens you deliver are always perfect. And these two are exceptionally beautiful and strong."
- "Is the wish synchronizer ready yet?" interrupted Limo, always active.
- "It's ready," the director confirmed. "There's already two free channels for the telepathic wave frequency of our two new guests. All that's left is for you to use the telepathic synchronizer to record this couple's background, possible desires, and mundane problems."
- "I don't know what we'd do without the synchronizer," Limo commented. "This Type IV Culture on 'Heliton 3' is getting more complex with each passing year. This device is the only thing that keeps them from realizing they're on another planet. And yet, I notice it's increasingly overloaded with work. I think it's a miracle this automaton still correctly answers all the telegrams, phone calls, business and love letters that they send constantly. With almost every new couple, some new concept, invention, or important change in scientific ideas must be added to the repertoire of radio and print news."
- "Yes, you're right; we've already used up three complete synchronization sets on the enclosure corresponding to 'Heliton 3,' while in the enclosure next door, assigned to the Type VII Culture of 'Alumina 5,' the equipment installed when it was first built is still working."
- "Could it be that some abnormal transformation is being instigated on 'Heliton 3'?"
- "Yes, it's possible. But it could also be that a Type III Culture transformed into the current Type IV very recently, and that the transformation isn't yet sufficiently settled - that is to say, it's still developing."
- "You'll find it interesting enough to study the problem in more detail, won't you?"
- "You'd do well to gather some data on this on your future hunts."
- "I've already done so, Director," and as he vibrated this answer, Limo felt somewhat triumphant. "I've discovered, for example, that the famous taboo of reward, 'payment' in the local language, isn't based on the concept of an unalterable commodity, as was previously believed, but rather that intermediate exchange is made with the most vulnerable of goods."
- "It can't be!" the director interrupted him.
- "And yet, that's how it is... These individuals work their entire lives to gather as many sheets of paper as possible, which are among the most vulnerable materials they possess."
- "But, Limo... how could you possibly want to prove such an absurdity!..."
- "The case of the LQ-374 pair is my irrefutable proof. Analyzing the memory of the male in that pair will clear up any doubt."
- "If what you say is confirmed, all the replica transmuters given to tourists traveling to 'Heliton 3' will have to be immediately corrected. It's an extraordinary discovery; but woe befall you if you're wrong!..."
- "Attention!... Attention!..." - the vibrorecorder interrupted. - "Class 3A is entering the Type IV enclosure. Students who haven't passed the language exam are reminded to remain silent and not interfere with the instructors when they are speaking to the bipeds."
- "There they go," the director commented. "There are two exceptional students in this class. After the second instruction, they blended in so well that the instructor forgot them among a group of swimmers. I'll soon assign them to you to take on one of your hunts."
- "But, Director," Limo vibrated. "It seems like I'm the one who always has to babysit."
- "It's nothing like that. You're one of the best scouts we have on this training base, and I want these young people to learn from a true master... Come on, I have something very interesting to show you."
- "Some important news?"
- "Yes, in the Subcultural Period III enclosure we've managed to hatch a whole nest of dinosaur eggs. The little monsters are incredibly cute."
- "Ah... I thought it would be something about the famous four-dimensional project. That would be quite the important news. You see, there's a job there I'd like."
- "Indeed, Limo, you are among the best suited for this job, and I assure you that you'll join me on the first hunt on 'Radiman 7'."
- "How long do you think we'll have to wait until we can find a group of those extravagant beings who live in four dimensions?"
- "It's unknown. It turns out the cage still has its drawbacks. You can imagine the intricate problems that the technicians face in rebuilding a piece of the planet suitable for these strange characters."
- "I understand that the main problem lies in the correct synchronization of time."
- "That's just it, but now we're going to take a look at the young dinosaurs," the director vibrated with more energy. "Do you know that they're almost as big as you as newborns?"
Absorbed by this new scientific curiosity, the two then exited, walking towards that cage. Limo with his usual observant spirit, and the director with such enthusiasm that he couldn't help but feel a few scales spontaneously forming on his arms.
* * *
NOT far from the place where the newborn dinosaurs were rolling around with clumsy movements, Laura and Chango were letting themselves be tanned by the pleasant rays of the sun.
They felt like the happiest people in the world. The sand was soft, and the breeze from the sea whipped their bodies with a gentle coolness. In the pocket of his bathing shorts, Chango felt the first five thousand pesos rustle. He withdrew them from the bank against a check signed by his new friend and benefactor. And five thousand more would follow each week...
- "Laura, I never want to leave this dream place..."
And then, the wish synchronizer knew, somewhere deep within its complicated electronic circuitry, that the couple LQ-374 found just the right vibration to keep them happy for the rest of their lives.
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