by Fritz Leiber
even more important advance. Earlybleaching and preserving chemicals played their humble parts.
"For a while, barbarous faddists--blind to the deeply spiritual natureof bread, which is recognized by all great religions--held back ourmarch toward perfection with their hair-splitting insistence on thevitamin content of the wheat germ, but their case collapsed whentasteless colorless substitutes were triumphantly synthesized andintroduced into the loaf, which for flawless purity, unequaled airinessand sheer intangible goodness was rapidly becoming mankind's supremegustatory experience."
"I wonder what the stuff tastes like," Rose Thinker said out of a clearsky.
"I wonder what taste tastes like," Tin Philosopher echoed dreamily.Recovering himself, he continued:
"Then, early in the twenty-first century, came the epochal researches ofEverett Whitehead, Puffyloaf chemist, culminating in his paper 'TheStructural Bubble in Cereal Masses' and making possible the baking ofairtight bread twenty times stronger (for its weight) than steel and ofa lightness that would have been incredible even to the advancedchemist-bakers of the twentieth century--a lightness so great that,besides forming the backbone of our own promotion, it has forever sincebeen capitalized on by our conscienceless competitors of Fairy Breadwith their enduring slogan: 'It Makes Ghost Toast'."
"That's a beaut, all right, that ecto-dough blurb," Rose Thinkeradmitted, bugging her photocells sadly. "Wait a sec. How about?--
"_There'll be bread Overhead When you're dead-- It is said._"
* * * * *
Phineas T. Gryce wrinkled his nostrils at the pink machine as if hesmelled her insulation smoldering. He said mildly, "A somewhat unhappyjingle, Rose, referring as it does to the end of the customer asconsumer. Moreover, we shouldn't overplay the figurative 'rises throughthe air' angle. What inspired you?"
She shrugged. "I don't know--oh, yes, I do. I was remembering one of theworkers' songs we machines used to chant during the Big Strike--
"_Work and pray, Live on hay. You'll get pie In the sky When you die-- It's a lie!_
"I don't know why we chanted it," she added. "We didn't want pie--orhay, for that matter. And machines don't pray, except Tibetan prayerwheels."
Phineas T. Gryce shook his head. "Labor relations are another topic weshould stay far away from. However, dear Rose, I'm glad you keep tryingto outjingle those dirty crooks at Fairy Bread." He scowled, turningback his attention to Tin Philosopher. "I get whopping mad, Old Machine,whenever I hear that other slogan of theirs, the discriminatoryone--'Untouched by Robot Claws.' Just because they employ a few filthyandroids in their factories!"
Tin Philosopher lifted one of his own sets of bright talons. "Thanks,P.T. But to continue my historical resume, the next great advance in thebaking art was the substitution of purified carbon dioxide, recoveredfrom coal smoke, for the gas generated by yeast organisms indwelling inthe dough and later killed by the heat of baking, their corpsesremaining _in situ_. But even purified carbon dioxide is itself a ratherrepugnant gas, a product of metabolism whether fast or slow, and foreverassociated with those life processes which are obnoxious to thefastidious."
Here the machine shuddered with delicate clinkings. "Therefore, we ofPuffyloaf are taking today what may be the ultimate step toward purity:we are aerating our loaves with the noble gas helium, an element whichremains virginal in the face of all chemical temptations and whose slimmolecules are eleven times lighter than obese carbon dioxide--yes, nobleuncontaminable helium, which, if it be a kind of ash, is yet the ashonly of radioactive burning, accomplished or initiated entirely on theSun, a safe 93 million miles from this planet. Let's have a cheer forthe helium loaf!"
* * * * *
Without changing expression, Phineas T. Gryce rapped the table thrice insolemn applause, while the others bowed their heads.
"Thanks, T.P.," P.T. then said. "And now for the Moment of Truth. MissWinterly, how is the helium loaf selling?"
The business girl clapped on a pair of earphones and whispered into alapel mike. Her gaze grew abstracted as she mentally translated flurriesof brief squawks into coherent messages. Suddenly a single verticalfurrow creased her matchlessly smooth brow.
"It isn't, Mr. Gryce!" she gasped in horror. "Fairy Bread is outsellingPuffyloaves by an infinity factor. So far this morning, _there has notbeen one single delivery of Puffyloaves to any sales spot_! Complaintsabout non-delivery are pouring in from both walking stores and sessileshops."
"Mr. Snedden!" Gryce barked. "What bug in the new helium process mightaccount for this delay?"
Roger was on his feet, looking bewildered. "I can't imagine, sir,unless--just possibly--there's been some unforeseeable difficultyinvolving the new metal-foil wrappers."
"Metal-foil wrappers? Were _you_ responsible for those?"
"Yes, sir. Last-minute recalculations showed that the extra lightness ofthe new loaf might be great enough to cause drift during stackage.Drafts in stores might topple sales pyramids. Metal-foil wrappers, bytheir added weight, took care of the difficulty."
"And you ordered them without consulting the Board?"
"Yes, sir. There was hardly time and--"
"Why, you fool! I noticed that order for metal-foil wrappers, assumed itwas some sub-secretary's mistake, and canceled it last night!"
Roger Snedden turned pale. "You canceled it?" he quavered. "And toldthem to go back to the lighter plastic wrappers?"
"Of course! Just what is behind all this, Mr. Snedden? _What_recalculations were you trusting, when our physicists had demonstratedmonths ago that the helium loaf was safely stackable in light airs andgentle breezes--winds up to Beaufort's scale 3. _Why_ should a changefrom heavier to lighter wrappers result in complete non-delivery?"
* * * * *
Roger Snedden's paleness became tinged with an interesting green. Hecleared his throat and made strange gulping noises. Tin Philosopher'sphotocells focused on him calmly, Rose Thinker's with unfeignedexcitement. P.T. Gryce's frown grew blacker by the moment, while MegeraWinterly's Venus-mask showed an odd dawning of dismay and awe. She wasgetting new squawks in her earphones.
"Er ... ah ... er...." Roger said in winning tones. "Well, you see, thefact is that I...."
"Hold it," Meg interrupted crisply. "Triple-urgent from PublicRelations, Safety Division. Tulsa-Topeka aero-express makes emergencylanding after being buffeted in encounter with vast flight of objectsfirst described as brown birds, although no failures reported inairway's electronic anti-bird fences. After grounding safely nearEmporia--no fatalities--pilot's windshield found thinly plastered withsoft white-and-brown material. Emblems on plastic wrappers embedded inmaterial identify it incontrovertibly as an undetermined number ofPuffyloaves cruising at three thousand feet!"
Eyes and photocells turned inquisitorially upon Roger Snedden. He wentfrom green to Puffyloaf white and blurted: "All right, I did it, but itwas the only way out! Yesterday morning, due to the Ukrainian crisis,the government stopped sales and deliveries of all strategic stockpiledmaterials, including helium gas. Puffy's new program of advertising andpromotion, based on the lighter loaf, was already rolling. There wasonly one thing to do, there being only one other gas comparable inlightness to helium. I diverted the necessary quantity of hydrogen gasfrom the Hydrogenated Oils Section of our Magna-Margarine Division andsubstituted it for the helium."
"You substituted ... hydrogen ... for the ... helium?" Phineas T. Grycefaltered in low mechanical tones, taking four steps backward.
"Hydrogen is twice as light as helium," Tin Philosopher remarkedjudiciously.
"And many times cheaper--did you know that?" Roger countered feebly."Yes, I substituted hydrogen. The metal-foil wrapping would have addedjust enough weight to counteract the greater buoyancy of the hydrogenloaf. But--"
"So, when this morning's loaves began to arrive on the deliveryplatforms of the walking mills...." Tin Philosopher left the remarkunfinished
.
"Exactly," Roger agreed dismally.
"Let me ask you, Mr. Snedden," Gryce interjected, still in low tones,"if you expected people to jump to the kitchen ceiling for theirPuffybread after taking off the metal wrapper, or reach for the sky ifthey happened to unwrap the stuff outdoors?"
"Mr. Gryce," Roger said reproachfully, "you have often assured me thatwhat people do with Puffybread after they buy it is no concern of ours."
"I seem to recall," Rose Thinker chirped somewhat unkindly, "that dictumwas created to
