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Updated: May 27, 2025
We were in sight of the Channel, not far from Calais, when both starboard engines developed trouble simultaneously and my pilot headed for a landingfield below. "What are you about, you fool?" I shouted at him. "Gasline fouled. I think I can fix it in a few minutes, Mr Weener." "Not down among those savages. We wouldnt have a chance." "We wouldnt have a chance over the Channel, sir.
Taking advantage of my knowledge of the sideroads, I turned off at the first chance and was able to resume a normal speed as I avoided towns and main highways. Still she continued silent, until at length, passing orangegroves heavy with coppery fruit, I ventured to speak myself. "My name is Albert Weener. Bert." The right rear tire kicked up some dust as I nervously edged off the road.
Nevertheless, by pure unhappy chance you are the property of the Intelligencer, and as such this illustrious organ intends to confer upon you the signal honor of being a Columbus, a Van Diemen, an Amundsen. You, Weener, in your unworthy person, shall be the first man to set foot upon a virgin land."
I am probably a rich man and this fellow wants to cheat me of the fruits of my foresight. "You bought the stock outright?" "Of course, Mr Weener," he affirmed in a hurt tone. "Good. Then I will take immediate delivery." He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his lip and forehead with evident inefficiency for the perspiration either remained or started afresh.
Putting a mechanical whip on a buggy instead of inventing an internal combustion engine. Ive gone directly to the heart of the matter. Like Watt. Like Maxwell. Like Almroth Wright. No use being held back because youve only poor materials to work with leap ahead with imagination. Change the plant itself, Weener, change the plant itself!" It was no longer politeness which held me.
No genuinely highclass proposition ever came from a layout without aggressiveness enough to put on some kind of front; working out of an office, for instance, not an outdated, rundown apartment in the wrong part of Hollywood. "It's only a temporary drawback, Weener, which restricts the Metamorphizer's efficacy to grasses."
I was shocked, then, and deeply wounded when at the close of one of our conferences he announced, "Mr Weener, I'm leaving you." I begged him to tell me what was wrong, what had caused him to come to this decision. I knew, I said, that he was overworked and offered him the badly needed vacation. He shook his head. "It aint that. Overwork! I don't believe there is such a thing.
He demurred at first, but at length accepted, instructing his secretary to phone his wife not to expect him home early. I suggested Mrs Thario join us, but he shook his head, muttering, "No place for women, Mr Weener, no place for women." Whether this referred to Washington or the restaurant where we were going or to his life largely was not clear.
It may be a mere matter of weeks now before we shall begin to roll back Cynodon dactylon." Mr Weener Sees It Through
"Very well," he grudgingly conceded at length, "youre on the grass anyway, so you might as well take this on too. Leave you only twentytwo hours a day to sleep in. You, Weener, are still on the payroll at half the agreedupon figure." I opened my mouth to protest, but he turned on me with a snarl; baring yellow and twisted teeth, unpleasant to see.
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