Robert A Heinlein - Year of the Jackpot

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The Year of the Jackpot

Robert A. Heinlein • nv Galaxy Mar '52

Windows Into Tomorrow

ed. Robert Silverberg (Hawthorne, 1974, hc)

At first Potiphar Breen did not notice the*girl who was undressing

She was standing at a bus stop only ten feet away. He was indoors but

that would not have kept him from noticing; he was seated in a drugstore booth

adjacent to the bus stop; there was nothing between Potiphar and the young lady

but plate glass and an occasional pedestrian

Nevertheless he did not look up when she began to peel

Propped up in front of him was a Los Angeles Times; beside it, still

unopened, were the Herald-Express and the Daily News. He was scanning the

newspaper carefully but the headline stories got only a passing glance. He noted

the maximum and minimum temperatures in Brownsville, Texas and entered

them in a neat black notebook; he did the same with the closing prices of three

blue chips and two dogs on the New York Exchange, as well as the total number

of shares. He then began a rapid sifting of minor news stories, from time to time

entering briefs of them in his little book; the items he recorded seemed randomly

unrelated among them a publicity release in which Miss National Cottage

Cheese Week announced that she intended to marry and have twelve children

by a man who could prove that he had been a life-long vegetarian, a

circumstantial but wildly unlikely flying saucer report, and a call for prayers for

rain throughout Southern California

Potiphar had just written down the names and addresses of three

residents of Watts, California who had been miraculously healed at a tent

meeting of the God-is-AII First Truth Brethren by the Reverend Dickie Bottomley,

the eight-year old evangelist, and was preparing to tackle the Herald-Ex press,

when he glanced over his reading glasses and saw the amateur ecdysiast on the

street comer outside. He stood up, placed his glasses in their case, folded the

newspapers and put them carefully in his right coat pocket, counted out the exact

amount of his check and added twenty-five cents. He then took his raincoat from

a hook, placed it over his arm, and went outside

By now the girl was practically down to the buff. It seemed to Potiphar

Breen that she had quite a lot of buff

Nevertheless she had not pulled much of a house. The corner newsboy

had stopped hawking his disasters and was grinning at her, and a mixed pair of

transvestites who were apparently waiting for the bus had their eyes on her.

None of the passers-by stopped. They glanced at her, then with the self-

conscious indifference to the unusual of the true Southern Californian, they went

on their various ways. The transvestites were frankly staring. The male member

of the team wore a frilly feminine blouse but his skirt was a conservative Scottish

kilt, his female companion wore a business suit and Homburg hat; she stared

with lively interest

As Breen approached the girl hung a scrap of nylon on the bus stop

bench, then reached for her shoes. A police officer, looking hot and unhappy,

crossed with the lights and came up to them. "Okay," he said in a tired voice,

"that'll be all, lady. Get them duds back on and clear out of here.

The female transvestite took a cigar out of her mouth

"Just," she said, "what business is it of yours, officer?

The cop turned to her. "Keep out of this I" He ran his eyes over her get up,

that of her companion. "I ought to run both of you in, too.

The transvestite raised her eyebrows. "Arrest us for being clothed, arrest

her for not being. I think I'm going to like this." She turned to the girl, who was

standing still and saying nothing, as if she were puzzled by what was going on

"I'm a lawyer, dear." She pulled a card from her vest pocket

"If this uniformed Neanderthal persists in annoying you, I'll be delighted to

handle him.

The man in the kilt said, "Grace! Please!

She shook him off. "Quiet, Norman this is our business.

She went on to the policeman, "Well? Call the wagon. In the meantime my

client will answer no questions.

The official looked unhappy enough to cry and his face was getting

dangerously red. Breen quietly stepped forward and slipped his raincoat around

the shoulders of the girl

She looked startled and spoke for the first time. "Uh thanks." She pulled

the coat about her, cape fashion

The female attorney glanced at Breen then back to the cop. "Well, officer?

Ready to arrest us?

He shoved his face close to hers. "I ain't going to give you the

satisfaction]" He sighed and added, "Thanks, Mr

Breen, you know this lady?

"Ill take care of her. You can forget it, Kawonski.

"I sure hope so. If she's with you, III do just that. But get her out of here,

Mr. Breen please!

The lawyer interrupted. "Just a moment you're interfering with my client.

Kawonski said, "Shut up, you! You heard Mr. Breen, she's with him. Right,

Mr. Breen?

"Well yes. 1m a friend. I'll take care of her.

The transvestite said suspiciously, "I didn't hear her say that.

Her companion said, "Grace please! There's our bus.

"And I didn't hear her say she was your client," the cop retorted. "You look

like a" His words were drowned out by the bus's brakes, "and besides that, if you

don't climb on that bus and get off my territory, I'll . . . I'll . . .

"You'll what?

"Grace! We'll miss our bus.

"Just a moment, Norman. Dear, is this man really a friend of yours? Are

you with him?

The girl looked uncertainly at Breen, then said in a low voice, "Uh, yes.

That's right.

"Well . . ." The lawyer's companion pulled at her arm

She shoved her card into Breen's hand and got on the bus; it pulled away

Breen pocketed the card. Kawonski wiped his forehead

"Why did you do it, lady?" he said peevishly

The girl looked puzzled. "I . . . I don't know.

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