Es Percipi
By Stephen Marlowe
Diplomatic relations became strained when
the Targoffian Ambassador started selling miracle
products on Earth. Products that didn't exist!...
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
October 1955
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Nicholson ducked into the room and squinted myopically through contactlenses which made his eyes look watery and far away. "Better scram outthe back way, boss," he said. "That dame from the Department of Healthand Public Welfare is here again."
Bryan Channing allowed himself ten seconds of barely audible swearing.Finally, he said, "What does she expect me to do, snap my fingers andmake the Ambassador from Targoff disappear?"
"It would be nice," Nicholson admitted.
"Unfortunately," Bryan Channing said for the fifth time that day, "ourhands are tied. Sure, Earth can get along without Targoff. The galaxywould hardly know the difference if sub-space opened up a world-sizedpocket tomorrow and swallowed Targoff and its sun."
"But," said Nicholson.
"Yes, but, I'll have to see the old battle-ax sooner or later, Nick. Onyour way out you might as well tell Julie to send her in."
"Oh, am I leaving?"
"You get the idea," said Bryan Channing. "You discovered Targoff, thendumped it in my lap. One of these days you better find us a planetwhich will make Health and P. W. happy. Now, beat it."
A moment after Nicholson had departed, the under-secretary of Healthand Public Welfare opened the door with a well-manicured hand andfollowed it into Bryan Channing's office, which looked out on the EastRiver and the dismantling job being done on the Queensboro Bridgethrough a solid wall of thermoglass.
"I don't smoke and I don't drink on duty," she said primly after BryanChanning had made the necessary gestures and offerings. "There weretwenty-two thousand divorces in the New York Metropolitan Area alonelast week, Mr. Channing. I have figures for other locations, if youwish."
"Just let my secretary have them on your way out."
"Very well."
"Incidentally, I don't want to tell you your business, but the figuredoesn't seem so alarmingly high."
"Perhaps. How would fifty thousand sound—for the first half of thisweek?"
"High," said Bryan Channing. "Go ahead."
"Deaths from malnutrition and disease continue at an even more alarmingrate. These figures—" And the under-secretary began to remove a sheafof papers from her briefcase.
"My secretary," Bryan Channing said again. "Can you pin these thingsdirectly on Qui Dor?"
"Qui Dor?"
"The Targoffian Ambassador."
"I can only go by his advertisements and what our field workers reportafter interviews. Qui Dor or whatever his name is, is to blame, itappears. Tell me, Mr. Channing, is it quite regular for a planetaryAmbassador to—well, to go into business like that?"
"Yes and no," Bryan Channing told her, launching himself on hisfavorite subject. "We don't make the laws, m'am. Fifty differentplanetary cultures nurtured on fifty different sets of laws with aheritage as rich as our own Roman one—you don't merely stamp out allthe existing laws and arbitrarily distribute a new code. All you can dois hope that in some fields at least there is a common meeting pointfor the planets."
"You've failed to answer my question."
"Sorry. The Lurane Ambassadors are primarily