Just the type of dwelling, Mallow thought sourly, for Asper, the Well-Beloved.
A young girl was before them.
She bent low to the Commdor, who said,
"This is one of the Commdora's girls.
Will she do?"
"Perfectly!"
The Commdor watched carefully while Mallow snapped the chain about the girl's waist, and stepped back. The Commdor snuffled,
"Well. Is that all?"
"Will you draw the curtain, Commdor.
Young lady, there's a little knob just near the snap.
Will you move it upward, please?
Go ahead, it won't hurt you."
The girl did so, drew a sharp breath, looked at her hands, and gasped, "Oh!"
From her waist as a source she was drowned in a pale, streaming luminescence of shifting color that drew itself over her head in a flashing coronet of liquid fire.
It was as if someone had tom the aurora borealis out of the sky and molded it into a cloak. The girl stepped to the mirror and stared, fascinated.
"Here, take this." Mallow handed her a necklace of dull pebbles. "Put it around your neck."
The girl did so, and each pebble, as it entered the luminescent field became an individual flame that leaped and sparkled in crimson and gold.
"What do you think of it?" Mallow asked her.
The girl didn't answer but there was adoration in her eyes.
The Commdor gestured and reluctantly, she pushed the knob down, and the glory died.
She left - with a memory.
"It's yours, Commdor," said Mallow, "for the Commdora. Consider it a small gift from the Foundation."
"Hm-m-m.' The Commdor turned the belt and necklace over in his hand as though calculating the weight.
"How is it done?"
Mallow shrugged,
"That's a question for our technical experts.
But it will work for you without - mark you, without - priestly help."
"Well, it's only feminine frippery after all.
What could you do with it?
Where would the money come in?"
"You have balls, receptions, banquets - that sort of thing?"
"Oh, yes."
"Do you realize what women will pay for that sort of jewelry?
Ten thousand credits, at least."
The Commdor seemed struck in a heap,
"Ah!"
"And since the power unit of this particular item will not last longer than six months, there will be the necessity of frequent replacements.
Now we can sell as many of these as you want for the equivalent in wrought iron of one thousand credits.
There's nine hundred percent profit for you."
The Commdor plucked at his beard and seemed engaged in awesome mental calculations,
"Galaxy, how they would fight for them.
I'll keep the supply small and let them bid.
Of course, it wouldn't do to let them know that I personally-"
Mallow said,
"We can explain the workings of dummy corporations, if you would like. -Then, working further at random, take our complete line of household gadgets.
We have collapsible stoves that will roast the toughest meats to the desired tenderness in two minutes.
We've got knives that won't require sharpening.
We've got the equivalent of a complete laundry that can be packed in a small closet and will work entirely automatically. Ditto dish-washers. Ditto-ditto floor-scrubbers, furniture polishers, dust-precipitators, lighting fixtures - oh, anything you like.
Think of your increased popularity, if you make them available to the public.
Think of your increased quantity of, uh, worldly goods, if they're available as a government monopoly at nine hundred percent profit.