It was Friend.
"How did you get from London to New York in forty minutes?"
"I did," said Friend. "I had to. London lines were becoming crowded. Now, Norbert, there are two things I want you to do. I want you to give me your signature, and then I want you to go to the First California National Agricultural and Trust Bank. There is something there for you."
"What?"
"Twenty-five thousand dollars."
"Liar," screamed Norbert. "You're not even in New York. You were never in London. You're a liar. I'm having a flashback acid trip."
"Norbert, would you believe me if I gave you a New York telephone number?"
"No."
"Norbert, tell me what you would believe. Let me prove to you that I am your friend."
"Stop the program that is mining my life."
"The program is not your problem. It is your solution. The grandest solution you have ever had. Norbert, give me your signature. There is a phone with a printer hookup two offices down from you. Just sign your name and then go to the bank. The money will be waiting for you."
"I'm going to go to jail now," Norbert cried.
"People only go to jail for stealing thousands," the soft voice replied. "You are going to take millions. In
8
that case, when you are caught, you will not be put in jail. You will be put at the head of a negotiation table."
"I want out."
"If you do not do this," his friend said, "I will personally have you fired this minute. I will tell your employer about your time-sharing bills."
"You're no friend," Norbert Peasewell said.
"You will not let me be. 1 am your friend, if you will just cooperate. Please go to the phone two offices down."
Dazed and panicked, Norbert stumbled down the corridor. Somewhat embarrassed, he said, "You wouldn't happen to have a phone printer here, would you?"
"How did you know? This is our secret SL-50. Where do you have access?" said an executive, looking up from his desk.
"I don't know that I do," Norbert said. "I was just told to come in here and do something."
"Well, you must have access," said the executive. "There are only two people in this company who know about this phone, and I never met the other one before. Glad to meet you."
"Yes," Peasewell said, and there, on the executive's desk, was a square box about the size of a folded shirt and about two inches high. The phone receiver rested in a cradle at the top. In the middle was a pad with a special pencil attached by a wire.
The executive offered to leave the office. Norbert accepted. And then, to protect himself in some small way, he wrote his signature in a different way than he normally did. He added a curlicue to the last / in Peasewell. He could always say it wasn't his signature.
Then he went down to the bank and filled out a withdrawal form for ten thousand dollars. Why not? The worst they could do was laugh at him.
It wouldn't be half as bad as what was going to happen to him back at work when they found out what he had done on his first half-day on the job.
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"Do you have any identification, Mr. Peasewell?" asked the bank teller.
Norbert blinked. There really was money in the account. Norbert took out his driver's license, Social Security card, welfare card. The clerk smiled at the welfare card.
"A lot of money for a welfare client," said the teller. "I'm afraid you'll have to see my superior."
That's it, thought Norbert. Done for. They've found out the account is a fraud.
But the supervisor examining Norbert's identification had only one problem.
"Mr. Peasewell, your signature doesn't seem to match."
"It's my signature. I always sign like that. Look at my driver's license. My welfare card. My Social Security."
The banker stacked them up next to each other and then said, "Aha. They all do match except for one small thing. You've added a curlicue to the I."
The bank had the signature he had given over tibie telephone printer to the friend he had never met.
Norbert added the curlicue on the withdrawal slip. The bank gave him ten thousand in twenties. It made a bulge in his pants pocket the size of a stack of hockey pucks.
Norbert paid off the secretary first thing after driving back to the plant in a cab. Then he went to his lab to talk to his friend.
The friend telephoned at 5:05. It was not long distance. He was in nearby San Francisco.
"Hi, you've got to hurry," said the friend. "There will be a chip down in manufacturing for you. Just sign for it and leave."
"You can't take a computer chip out of Silicon Valley," Norbert said.
"Have I ever let you down before?"
"I'll never be able to get a job again. Really, never."
"You are never going to need one again. I am going to make you rich, Norbert."
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"Why? Why me?"
"Norbert, don't you know who I am?"
"No," screamed Peasewell.