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Earth, with all its memories of the last nine years, was gone, taking with it Hawkes, Jesperson, York City, the Enclaves everything. He floated in a featureless dull gray void, without stars, without worlds. So this is hyperspace, he thought. He felt tired, and he felt tense. He had reached hyperspace; that was half the struggle.
He stared at the lawyer a moment. "How much am I worth, now?" "Well, offhand " Jesperson thought for a moment. "Say, a million three hundred. I've made some good investments this past year." Alan nodded. "Good. Keep the money piling up. I may decide to open a research lab of my own, and we'll need every credit we've got."
The computer considered Jesperson's plea a few moments, reviewing the brief which the lawyer had taped and fed to the computer earlier. Time passed. Then the green panel lit, and the words, APPLICATION GRANTED. Alan smiled. Bryson had been defeated; Max's money was his. Money that could be turned toward intensified research on the hyperdrive. "Well, son?" Jesperson asked.
"Suppose we start right now. I'd like to take a year and travel around the world. As my legal guardian you'll be stuck with the job of managing my estate and handling investments for me." Jesperson chuckled. "You'll be twice as wealthy when you get back! Nothing makes money so fast as money."
The computer's decision was even quicker this time. Berwin tossed Alan's side of the courtroom a black look and yielded ground. Alan had engaged a lawyer recommended once by Hawkes, a man named Jesperson. Briefly and concisely Jesperson cited Alan's claim to the money, read the terms of the will, and stepped back.
He was discouraged. His journey had revealed the harsh fact that nowhere on Earth was research into hyperdrive travel being carried on; either they had tried and abandoned it as hopeless, or, like the Zurich people, they had condemned the concept from the start. "Did you find what you were looking for?" Jesperson asked. Alan slowly shook his head. "Not a hint. And I really covered ground."
The court appointed a legal guardian for him, the lawyer Jesperson, who was to administer Alan's money until Alan reached the biological age of twenty-one.
He could not allow the trail to trickle out here. He told Jesperson, "I want to buy a small spaceship. I'm going to Venus." He looked at the lawyer expectantly and got ready to put up a stiff argument when Jesperson started to raise objections. But the big man only smiled. "Okay," he said. "When are you leaving?" "You aren't going to complain?
When he met with Jesperson to discuss future plans, the lawyer told him, "You can handle yourself, Alan. I'll give you free rein with the estate with the proviso that I have veto power over any of your expenditures until your twenty-first birthday." That sounded fair enough. Alan had reason to trust the lawyer; hadn't Hawkes recommended him? "I'll agree to that," Alan said.
He spent the next four months travelling widely through the United States, gaping at the Grand Canyon and the other scenic preserves of the west. East of the Mississippi, life was different; there was barely a stretch of open territory between York City and Chicago. It was late in November when he returned to York City. Jesperson greeted him at the airfield, and they rode home together.
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