Бруно Травен - Aslan Norval

“Never, ma’am. He was just not my type.”

“He would never be mine, either,” said Aslan, not looking up, and organizing papers on her desk. “Too awkward. Too boyish.” She changed her tone. “Amy, do you have any idea how much the offers are for the new issue of our shares, pending permission?”

“About two billion three hundred fifty million dollars. We have advance payments of about eight hundred million.”

Aslan laughed out loud and tipped her armchair so far back that Amy jumped up to catch her.

“Have you ever heard of such a thing? People are sending checks and money for shares we don’t even have yet and if things don’t work, we will never have. And these people are not just Americans, they are from Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Venezuela, Sweden, Germany, France, and Italy.”

“I think it’s not the shares, ma’am, that attract people like a magnet. It’s the enterprise. The idea. It’s their faith in you and your plan.”

“You’re saying something that sounds like economic philosophy. It’s not the piece of paper, the share, in which people believe, like—let’s say—a ten-thousand-dollar note. A piece of paper. And often a very dirty one. It’s their faith in the invisible worth of the work and production expressed in the piece of paper. At the same instant in which the faith in the invisible worth expressed in the dollar note is shattered, a ten-thousand-dollar note is worth less than a bar of soap. The same thing happens with our as-of-yet nonexistent new shares. They express a value that is not visible at the moment. However, there are millions of people who believe that it will be apparent one day. And all these people who order shares and pay large amounts in advance for shares that do not even exist yet are firmly convinced that our enterprise is feasible and that we will make it a reality.”

“You’re sure there’s no other reason for that, ma’am?”

“I’m sure. Oh, no news from the Senate, Amy?”

“No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“The committee is really taking its time.”

“If the committee decides in favor of the company, ma’am, then the new series of shares is immediately available for sale, right?”

“Not by a long shot, my innocent little lamb. The committee doesn’t have the authority to give permission for the sale of any shares. The committee is only an investigative body appointed for purely political reasons. To issue new shares, we need the permission of the SEC, which is the Securities and Exchange Commission. We have to register the shares with them. The only thing the committee can do is report to the SEC that in their opinion there’s no danger of stock fraud. Of course, the SEC has the final word in this matter. They don’t need to accept the decision of the Senate committee if they have a different opinion. Nevertheless, if the SEC denies us permission to issue new shares, we can appeal in court. I hope we don’t have to go that far. In any case, we have to wait till the committee makes their decision. It could take months, Amy, months.”

Aslan did not know and could not know what was happening in the Senate and the House of Representatives. And she could not know at all what was happening in the subcommittee that was deciding about the life or death of her company. The offices of the senators and House representatives, and especially of the members of the subcommittee, found themselves flooded with telegrams and letters. Apart from a few dozen letters written by troublemakers, they were all decisively in favor of the Aslan Project. Congressmen even received threatening letters. They were not even anonymous but signed, and they declared that the politicians should not hope to be reelected if they did not support the project, let alone undermine it. More and more people as well as both privately and publicly held companies began to realize the simple and obvious fact that for the next ten years, hundreds of thousands of people—no matter in which professions—would have a secure and most likely good income. The war and arms industry could not offer them anything like that, since those industries depended on political circumstances.

While the situation looked so peaceful from the outside, the committee and the private sessions of congressmen were tumultuous. Bitter fights erupted among career politicians. They fought about the following question: Why did the government not initiate such a gigantic plan, instead of leaving it to a private company to submit to the people this plan which was so valuable for the shipping industry?

Given the lobbying of American citizens—all of them voters—that increased every day, the Senate committee realized that it would be suicide to withhold or limit the constitutional rights of Aslan’s company without giving her at least the chance to procure the necessary funds for the execution of the work plan. Public opinion in favor of the project developed into a kind of referendum. If a negative decision of the committee might not have caused a revolution, the Senate would still have been faced with such a storm of outrage that they would have had to reverse their decision after all.

Originally, they were supposed to decide within six weeks. However, months and months had passed, and they had not passed any judgment. The senators were probably hoping that the more time that passed without a definite decision, the more likely it was that shareholders would finally lose patience and put a painful end to the company.

The shareholders of the company, however, were made from hardier material. Nothing could shake their faith in the project. It was not the shareholders but rather the senators who lost their patience. Finally, the heat they got from the public became too much, and they were forced to give a clear answer.

Visible in extra-bold letters on the front page of every newspaper in the nation, the decision read: “After careful consideration and examination of all relevant circumstances, we have to declare that the project for which the Atlantic-Pacific Transit Corporation is requesting permission to issue a new series of shares, is a very daring, very difficult, and almost impracticable one. The project will remain a considerable risk for shareholders until its completion. Therefore, the shareholders themselves have to decide whether they want to assume the risk. The examination of the financial stability of the company did not result in anything for now that would give rise to worries for shareholders.”

Aslan studied the statement. “Amy,” she said then, “let’s say we get stuck on the long stretch of desert between Galveston and Los Angeles and our funds dry out. In that case, the members of the Senate committee will stand there with a paternalistic grin in front of the public. They will hold up their hands, which they have now officially washed of the affair.”

“I don’t understand, ma’am,” said Amy.

“It’s simple, Amy. They are washing their hands in childish innocence, the gentlemen of the Senate. Their decision reads: ‘did not result in anything for now.’ The emphasis is on: ‘for now.’ The honorable gentlemen of the Senate are not responsible for anything that might happen in the future. I have to say that I wouldn’t have thought it possible that the gentlemen of the Senate would know how to keep themselves far enough away from a fire in case it might burn too bright.”

“But ma’am, it seems that the gentlemen of the Senate do not fear fire.”

“They don’t fear fire?”

“Apparently not, ma’am. For two weeks now, three honorable gentlemen of the Senate, Drake, Clifford, and Shearer, each have a check for two hundred thousand dollars in our safe as guarantee for their requested shares of the new series.”

“And you are surprised by that, Amy?” asked Aslan. “What surprises me is that these three most honorable gentlemen, who tortured me so pitilessly, didn’t submit at least half a million dollars. They would have that kind of money. These three gentlemen are the main shareholders of the Knutsen Kelthy Crane Jorgson Shipping Company, Inc., Ltd., AGSA. Last year it paid seventeen and one-eighth percent dividends, and that’s after deduction of income tax.”