Null-ABC

by Henry Beam Piper and John
Joseph McGuire

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Title: Null-ABC
Author: Henry Beam Piper and John Joseph McGuire
Illustrator: van Dongen
Release Date: May 8, 2006 [EBook #18346]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

Transcriber's note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science
Fiction, February and March, 1953. Extensive research did not uncover
any evidence that the copyright on this publication was renewed.

NULL-ABC
BY H. BEAM PIPER AND JOHN J. McGUIRE

There's some reaction these days that holds scientists responsible for
war. Take it one step further: What happens if "book-learnin'" is held
responsible ...?
Illustrated by van Dongen

Chester Pelton retracted his paunch as far as the breakfast seat would
permit; the table, its advent preceded by a collection of mouth-watering
aromas, slid noiselessly out of the pantry and clicked into place in front
of him.
"Everything all right, Miss Claire?" a voice floated out after it from
beyond. "Anything else you want?"
"Everything's just fine, Mrs. Harris," Claire replied. "I suppose Mr.
Pelton'll want seconds, and Ray'll probably want thirds and fourths of
everything." She waved a hand over the photocell that closed the pantry
door, and slid into place across from her brother, who already had a
glass of fruit juice in one hand and was lifting platter covers with the
other.
"Real eggs!" the boy was announcing. "Bacon. Wheat-bread toast." He
looked again. "Hey, Sis, is this real cow-made butter?"
"Yes. Now go ahead and eat."
As though Ray needed encouragement, Chester Pelton thought,
watching his son use a spoon--the biggest one available--to dump gobs
of honey on his toast. While he was helping himself to bacon and eggs,
he could hear Ray's full-mouthed exclamation: "This is real bee-comb

honey, too!" That pleased him. The boy was a true Pelton; only needed
one bite to distinguish between real and synthetic food.
"Bet this breakfast didn't cost a dollar under five C," Ray continued, a
little more audibly, between bites.
[Illustration:]
That was another Pelton trait; even at fifteen, the boy was learning the
value of money. Claire seemed to disapprove, however.
"Oh, Ray; try not to always think of what things cost," she reproved.
"If I had all she spends on natural food, I could have a this-season's
model 'copter-bike, like Jimmy Hartnett," Ray continued.
Pelton frowned. "I don't want you running around with that boy, Ray,"
he said, his mouth full of bacon and eggs. Under his daughter's look of
disapproval, he swallowed hastily, then continued: "He's not the sort of
company I want my son keeping."
"But, Senator," Ray protested. "He lives next door to us. Why, we can
see Hartnett's aerial from the top of our landing stage!"
"That doesn't matter," he said, in a tone meant to indicate that the
subject was not to be debated. "He's a Literate!"
"More eggs, Senator?" Claire asked, extending the platter and gesturing
with the serving knife.
He chuckled inwardly. Claire always knew what to do when his temper
started climbing to critical mass. He allowed her to load his plate again.
"And speaking of our landing stage, have you been up there, this
morning, Ray?" he asked.
They both looked at him inquiringly.
"Delivered last evening, while you two were out," he explained. "New

winter model Rolls-Cadipac." He felt a glow of paternal pleasure as
Claire gave a yelp of delight and aimed a glancing kiss at the top of his
bald head. Ray dropped his fork, slid from his seat, and bolted for the
lift, even bacon, eggs, and real bee-comb honey forgotten.
With elaborate absent-mindedness, Chester Pelton reached for the
switch to turn on the video screen over the pantry door.
"Oh-oh! Oh-oh!" Claire's slender hand went out to stop his own. "Not
till coffee and cigarettes, Senator."
"It's almost oh-eight-fifteen; I want the newscast."
"Can't you just relax for a while? Honestly, Senator, you're killing
yourself."
"Oh, rubbish! I've been working a little hard, but--"
"You've been working too hard. And today, with the sale at the store,
and the last day of the campaign--"
"Why the devil did that idiot of a Latterman have the sale advertised for
today, anyhow?" he fumed. "Doesn't he know I'm running for the
Senate?"
"I doubt it," Claire said. "He may have heard of it, the way you've
heard about an election in Pakistan or Abyssinia, or he just may not
know there is such