1. JACKPOT TO SPACE
It was Uncle Jim who’d said, “Whatever happens, Roy, don’t worry about it. Just relax and enjoy yourself.” I remembered those words as I followed the other competitors into the big studio, and I don’t think I felt particularly nervous. After all, however badly I wanted the prize, it was only a game.
The audience was already in its place, talking and fidgeting and waiting for the program to begin. It gave a little cheer as we walked up on to the stage and took our seats. I had a quick look at the five other competitors, and was a bit disappointed. Each of them looked quite sure that he was going to win.
There was another cheer from the audience as Elmer Schmitz, the Quiz Master, came into the studio. I’d met him before, of course, in the semifinals, and I expect you’ve seen him often enough on TV. He gave us some last minute instructions, moved to his place under the spotlights, and signaled to the cameras. There was a sudden hush as the red light came on. From where I was sitting I could see Elmer adjusting his smile.
“Good evening, folks! This is Elmer Schmitz, presenting to you the finalists in our Aviation Quiz Program, brought to you by arrangement with World Airways, Incorporated. The six young men we have here tonight…”
But I guess it wouldn’t be very modest to repeat the things he said about us. It all added up to the fact that we knew a lot about everything that flew—in the air and outside it—and had beaten about five thousand other members of the Junior Rocket Club in a series of nationwide contests. Tonight would be the final elimination tests to select the winner.
It started easily enough, on the lines of earlier rounds. Elmer fired off a question at each of us in turn, and we had twenty seconds in which to answer. Mine was pretty easy; he wanted to know the altitude record for a pure jet. Everyone else got his answer right too. I think those first questions were just to give us confidence.
Then it got tougher. We couldn’t see our scores, which were being flashed up on a screen facing the audience, but you could tell when you’d given the right answer by the noise they made. I forgot to say that you lost a point when you gave the wrong reply. That was to prevent guessing. If you didn’t know, it was best to say nothing at all.
As far as I could tell, I’d made only one mistake, but there was a kid from New Washington who I thought hadn’t made any—though I couldn’t be sure of this, because it was difficult to keep track of the others while you were wondering what Elmer had coming up for you. I was feeling rather gloomy, when suddenly the lights dimmed and a hidden movie projector went into action.
“Now,” said Elmer, “the last round! You’ll each see some kind of aircraft or rocket for one second and in that time you must identify it. Ready?”
A second sounds awfully short, but it isn’t really. You can grasp a great deal in that time, enough to recognize anything you know really well. But some of the machines they showed us went back over a hundred years. One or two even had propellers! This was lucky for me: I’d always been interested in the history of flying and could spot some of those antiques. That was where the boy from New Washington fell down badly. They gave him a picture of the original Wright biplane, which you can see in the Smithsonian any day, and he didn’t know it. Afterward he said he was interested only in rockets, and that the test wasn’t fair. But I thought it served him right.
They gave me the Dornier DO-X and a B-52, and I knew them both. So I wasn’t really surprised when Elmer called out my name as soon as the lights went up. Still, it was a proud moment as I walked over to him, with the cameras following me and the audience clapping in the background.
“Congratulations, Roy!” said Elmer heartily, shaking my hand. “Almost a perfect score. You missed only one question. I have great pleasure in announcing you as the winner of this World Airways Contest. As you know, the prize is a trip, all expenses paid, to any place in the world. We’re all interested to hear your choice. What is it going to be? You can go anywhere you like between the North and South Poles!”
My lips went kind of dry. Though I’d made all my plans weeks ago, it was different now that the time had actually come. I felt awfully lonely in that huge studio, with everyone around me so quiet and waiting for what I was going to say. My voice sounded a long way off when I answered.
“I want to go to the Inner Station.”
Elmer looked puzzled, surprised and annoyed all at once. There was a sort of rustle from the audience, and I heard someone give a little laugh. Perhaps that made Elmer decide to be funny too.
“Ha, ha, very amusing, Roy! But the prize is anywhere on earth. You must stick to the rules, you know!”
I could tell he was laughing at me, and that made me mad. So I came back with: “I’ve read the rules very carefully. And they don’t say ‘on earth.’ They say, ‘To any part of the earth.’ There’s a big difference.”
Elmer was smart. He knew there was trouble brewing, for his grin faded out at once, and he looked anxiously at the TV cameras.
“Go on,” he said.
I cleared my throat.
“In 2054,” I continued, “the United States, like all the other members of the Atlantic Federation, signed the Tycho Convention, which decided how far into space any planet’s legal rights extended. Under that Convention, the Inner Station is part of earth, because it’s inside the thousand kilometer limit.”
Elmer gave me a most peculiar look. Then he relaxed a little and said, “Tell me, Roy, is your dad an attorney?”
I shook my head. “No, he isn’t.”
Of course I might have added, “But my Uncle Jim is.” I decided not to; there was going to be enough trouble anyway.
Elmer made a few attempts to make me change my mind, but there was nothing doing. Time was running out, and the audience was on my side. Finally he gave up and said with a laugh:
“Well, you’re a very determined young man. You’ve won the prize, anyway, and it looks as if the legal eagles take over from here. I hope there’s something left for you when they’ve finished wrangling!”
I rather hoped so too!
Of course, Elmer was right in thinking I’d not worked all this out by myself. Uncle Jim, who’s counselor for a big atomic energy combine, had spotted the opportunity soon after I’d entered the contest. He’d told me what to say and had promised that World Airways couldn’t wriggle out of it. Even if they could, so many people had seen me on the air that it would be very bad publicity for them if they tried. “Just stick to your guns, Roy,” he’d said, “and don’t agree to anything until you’ve talked it over with me.”
Mom and Pop were pretty mad about the whole business. They’d been watching, and as soon as I started bargaining they knew what had happened. Pop rang up Uncle Jim at once and gave him a piece of his mind (I heard about it afterward), but it was too late for them to stop me.
You see, I’d been crazy to go out into space for as long as I can remember. I was sixteen when all this happened, and rather big for my age. I’d read everything I could get hold of about aviation and astronautics, seen all the movies and telecasts from space, and made up my mind that someday I was going to look back and watch the earth shrinking behind me. I’d made models of famous spaceships, and put rocket units in some of them until the neighbors raised a fuss. In my room I have hundreds of photographs, not only of most of the ships you care to name, but all the important places on the planets as well.