C M Kornbluth - Dominoes

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Dominoes

C.M. Kornbluth

Dominoes

"Money!" his wife screamed at him. "You're killing yourself, Will. Pull out of the market and let's go

some place where we can live like human—"

He slammed the apartment door on her reproaches and winced, standing in the carpeted corridor, as an

ulcer twinge went through him. The elevator door rolled open and the elevator man said, beaming: "Good

morning, Mr. Born. It's a lovely day today."

"I'm glad, Sam," W. J. Born said sourly. "I just had a lovely, lovely breakfast." Sam didn't know how to

take it, and compromised by giving him a meager smile.

"How's the market look, Mr. Born?" he hinted as the car stopped on the first floor. "My cousin told me

to switch from Lunar Entertainment, he's studying to be a pilot, but the Journal has it listed for growth."

W. J. Born grunted: "If I knew I wouldn't tell you. You've got no business in the market. Not if you think

you can play it like a craps-table."

He fumed all through his taxi ride to the office. Sam, a million Sams, had no business in the market. But

they were in, and they had built up the Great Boom of 1975 on which W. J. Born Associates was

coasting merrily along. For how long? His ulcer twinged again at the thought.

He arrived at9:15. Already the office was a maelstrom. The clattering tickers, blinking boards and racing

mes-

sengers spelled out the latest, hottest word from markets inLondon,Paris,Milan,Vienna. SoonNew York

would chime in, thenChicago, thenSan Francisco.

Maybe this would be the day. MaybeNew York-would open on a significant decline hi Moon Mining

and Smelting. MaybeChicagowould nervously respond with a slump in commodities andSan Francisco's

Utah Uranium would plummet hi sympathy. Maybe panic hi the Tokyo Exchange on the heels of the

alarming news from the States —panic relayed across Asia with the rising sun to Vienna, Milan, Paris,

London, and crashing like a shock-wave into the opening New York market again.

Dominoes, W. J. Born thought. A row of dominoes. Flick one and they all topple in a heap. Maybe this

would be the day.

Miss Ulig had a dozen calls from his personal crash-priority clients penciled hi on his desk pad already.

He ignored them and said into her good-morning smile: "Get me Mr. Loring on the phone."

Loring's phone rang and rang while W. J. Born boiled inwardly. But the lab was a barn of a place, and

when he was hard at work Loring was deaf and blind to distractions. You had to hand him that. He was

screwy, he was insolent, he had an inferiority complex that stuck out a yard, but he was a worker.

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