"I am impressed!"

"Mike is a fair dinkum thinkum--you'll see. Mike, I bet Professor three to two that Yankees would win pennant again. How chances?"

"I am sorry to hear it, Man. The correct odds, this early in the year and based on past performances of teams and players, are one to four point seven two the other way."

"Can't be that bad!"

"I'm sorry, Man. I will print out the calculations if you wish. But I recommend that you buy back your wager. The Yankees have a favorable chance to defeat any single team... but the combined chances of defeating all teams in the league, including such factors as weather, accidents, and other variables for the season ahead, place the club on the short end of the odds I gave you."

"Prof, want to sell that bet?"

"Certainly, Manuel."

"Price?"

"Three hundred Hong Kong dollars."

"You old thief!"

"Manuel, as you former teacher I would be false to you if I did not permit you to learn from mistakes. Señor Holmes--Mike my friend--May I call you 'friend'?"

"Please do." (Mike almost purred.)

"Mike amigo, do you also tout horse races?"

"I often calculate odds on horse races; the civil service computermen frequently program such requests. But the results are so at variance with expectations that I have concluded either that the data are too meager, or the horses or riders are not honest. Possibly all three. However, I can gve you a formula which will pay a steady return if played consistently."

Prof looked eager. "What is it? May one ask?"

"One may. Bet the leading apprentice jockey to place. He is always given good mounts and they carry less weight. But don't bet him on the nose."

"'Leading apprentice'... hmm. Manuel, do you have the correct time?"

"Prof, which do you want? Get a bet down before post time? Or settle what we set out to?"

"Unh, sorry. Please carry on. 'Leading apprentice--'"

"Mike, I gave you a recording last night." I leaned close to pickups and whispered: "Bastille Day."

"Retrieved, Man."

"Thought about it?"

"In many ways. Wyoh, you speak most dramatically."

"Thank you, Mike."

"Prof, can you get your mind off ponies?"

"Eh? Certainly, I am all ears."

"Then quit doing odds under your breath; Mike can do them faster."

"I was not wasting time; the financing of... joint ventures such as ours is always difficult. However, I shall table it; I am all attention."

"I want Mike to do a trial projection. Mike, in that recording, you heard Wyoh say we had to have free trade with Terra. You heard Prof say we should clamp an embargo on shipping food to Terra. Who's right?"

"Your question is indeterminate, Man."

"What did I leave out?"

"Shall I rephrase it, Man?"

"Sure. Give us discussion."

"In immediate terms Wyoh's proposal would be of great advantage to the people of Luna. The price of foodstuffs at catapult head would increase by a factor of at least four. This takes into account a slight rise in wholesale prices on Terra, 'slight' because the Authority now sells at approximately the free market price. This disregards subsidized, dumped, and donated foodstuffs, most of which come from the large profit caused by the controlled low price at catapult head. I will say no more about minor variables as they are swallowed by major ones. Let it stand that the immediate effect here would be a price increase of the close order of fourfold."

"Hear that, Professor?"

"Please, dear lady. I never disputed it."

"The profit increase to the grower is more than fourfold because, as Wyoh pointed out, he now must buy water and other items at controlled high prices. Assuming a free market throughout the sequence his profit enhancement will be of the close order of sixfold. But this would be offset by another factor: Higher prices for exports would cause higher prices for everything consumed in Luna, goods and labor. The total effect would be an enhanced standard of living for all on the close order of twofold. This would be accompanied by vigorous effort to drill and seal more farming tunnels, mine more ice, improve growing methods, all leading to greater export. However, the Terran Market is so large and food shortage so chronic that reduction in profit from increase of export is not a major factor."

Prof said, "But, Señor Mike, that would only hasten the day that Luna is exhausted!"

"The projection was specified as immediate, Señor Professor. Shall I continue in longer range on the basis of your remarks?"

"By all means!"

"Luna's mass to three significant figures is seven point three six times ten to the nineteenth power tonnes. Thus, holding other variables constant including Lunar and Terran populations, the present differential rate of export in tonnes could continue for seven point three six times ten to the twelfth years before using up one percent of Luna--round it as seven thousand billion years."

"What! Are you sure?"

"You are invited to check, Professor."

I said, "Mike, this a joke? If so, not funny even once!"

"It is not a joke, Man."

"Anyhow," Prof added, recovering, "it's not Luna's crust we are shipping. It's our lifeblood--water and organic matter. Not rock."

"I took that into consideration, Professor. This projection is based on controlled transmutation--any isotope into any other and postulating power for any reaction not exo-energetic. Rock would be shipped--transformed into wheat and beef and other foodstuffs."

"But we don't know how to do that! Amigo, this is ridiculous!"

"But we will know how to do it."

"Mike is right, Prof," I put in. "Sure, today we haven't a glimmer. But will. Mike, did you compute how many years till we have this? Might take a flier in stocks."

Mike answered in sad voice, "Man my only male friend save for the Professor whom I hope will be my friend, I tried. I failed. The question is indeterminate."

"Why?"

"Because it involves a break-through in theory. There is no way in all my data to predict when and where genius may appear."

Prof sighed. "Mike amigo, I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Then that projection didn't mean anything?"

"Of course it meant something!" said Wyoh. "It means we'll dig it out when we need it. Tell him, Mike!"

"Wyoh, I am most sorry. Your assertion is, in effect, exactly what I was looking for. But the answer still remains: Genius is where you find it. No. I am so sorry."

I said, "Then Prof is right? When comes to placing bets?"

"One moment, Man. There is a special solution suggested by the Professor's speech last night--return shipping, tonne for tonne."

"Yes, but can't do that."

"If the cost is low enough, Terrans would do so. That can be achieved with only minor refinement, not a break-through, to wit, freight transportation up from Terra as cheap as catapulting down to Terra."

"You call this 'minor'?"

"I call it minor compared with the other problem, Man."

"Mike dear, how long? When do we get it?"

"Wyoh, a rough projection, based on poor data and largely intuitive, would be on the order of fifty years."

"'Fifty years'? Why, that's nothing! We can have free trade."

"Wyoh, I said 'on the order of'--I did not say 'on the close order of.'"

"It makes a difference?"

"Does." I told her. "What Mike said was that he doesn't expect it sooner than five years but would be surprised if much longer than five hundred--eh, Mike?"

"Correct, Man."

"So need another projection. Prof pointed out that we ship water and organic matter and don't get it back---agree, Wyoh?"

"Oh. sure. I just don't think it's urgent. We'll solve it when we reach it."

"Okay, Mike--no cheap shipping, no transmutation: How long till trouble?"

"Seven years."

"'Seven years!'" Wyoh jumped up, stared at phone. "Mike honey! You don't mean that?"