Bread Overhead, by Fritz Reuter 
Leiber 
 
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Leiber This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and 
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Title: Bread Overhead 
Author: Fritz Reuter Leiber 
Illustrator: Wood 
Release Date: September 11, 2007 [EBook #22579] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BREAD 
OVERHEAD *** 
 
Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online Distributed 
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net 
 
Bread Overhead
By FRITZ LEIBER 
The Staff of Life suddenly and disconcertingly sprouted wings --and 
mankind had to eat crow! 
Illustrated by WOOD 
As a blisteringly hot but guaranteed weather-controlled future summer 
day dawned on the Mississippi Valley, the walking mills of Puffy 
Products ("Spike to Loaf in One Operation!") began to tread delicately 
on their centipede legs across the wheat fields of Kansas. 
The walking mills resembled fat metal serpents, rather larger than those 
Chinese paper dragons animated by files of men in procession. Sensory 
robot devices in their noses informed them that the waiting wheat had 
reached ripe perfection. 
As they advanced, their heads swung lazily from side to side, very 
much like snakes, gobbling the yellow grain. In their throats, it was 
threshed, the chaff bundled and burped aside for pickup by the crawl 
trucks of a chemical corporation, the kernels quick-dried and blown 
along into the mighty chests of the machines. There the tireless mills 
ground the kernels to flour, which was instantly sifted, the bran being 
packaged and dropped like the chaff for pickup. A cluster of tanks 
which gave the metal serpents a decidedly humpbacked appearance 
added water, shortening, salt and other ingredients, some named and 
some not. The dough was at the same time infused with gas from a tank 
conspicuously labeled "Carbon Dioxide" ("No Yeast Creatures in Your 
Bread!"). 
[Illustration] 
Thus instantly risen, the dough was clipped into loaves and shot into 
radionic ovens forming the midsections of the metal serpents. There the 
bread was baked in a matter of seconds, a fierce heat-front browning 
the crusts, and the piping-hot loaves sealed in transparent plastic 
bearing the proud Puffyloaf emblem (two cherubs circling a floating 
loaf) and ejected onto the delivery platform at each serpent's rear end,
where a cluster of pickup machines, like hungry piglets, snatched at the 
loaves with hygienic claws. 
A few loaves would be hurried off for the day's consumption, the 
majority stored for winter in strategically located mammoth deep 
freezes. 
But now, behold a wonder! As loaves began to appear on the delivery 
platform of the first walking mill to get into action, they did not linger 
on the conveyor belt, but rose gently into the air and slowly traveled off 
down-wind across the hot rippling fields. 
* * * * * 
The robot claws of the pickup machines clutched in vain, and, not 
noticing the difference, proceeded carefully to stack emptiness, tier by 
tier. One errant loaf, rising more sluggishly than its fellows, was 
snagged by a thrusting claw. The machine paused, clumsily wiped off 
the injured loaf, set it aside--where it bobbed on one corner, unable to 
take off again--and went back to the work of storing nothingness. 
A flock of crows rose from the trees of a nearby shelterbelt as the flight 
of loaves approached. The crows swooped to investigate and then 
suddenly scattered, screeching in panic. 
The helicopter of a hangoverish Sunday traveler bound for Wichita 
shied very similarly from the brown fliers and did not return for a 
second look. 
A black-haired housewife spied them over her back fence, crossed 
herself and grabbed her walkie-talkie from the laundry basket. Seconds 
later, the yawning correspondent of a regional newspaper was jotting 
down the lead of a humorous news story which, recalling the old 
flying-saucer scares, stated that now apparently bread was to be 
included in the mad aerial tea party. 
The congregation of an open-walled country church, standing up to 
recite the most familiar of Christian prayers, had just reached the
petition for daily sustenance, when a sub-flight of the loaves, either 
forced down by a vagrant wind or lacking the natural buoyancy of the 
rest, came coasting silently as the sunbeams between the graceful 
pillars at the altar end of the building. 
Meanwhile, the main flight, now augmented by other bread flocks from 
scores and hundreds of walking mills that had started work a little later, 
mounted slowly and majestically into the cirrus-flecked upper air, 
where a steady wind was blowing strongly toward the east. 
About one thousand miles farther on in that direction, where a cluster 
of stratosphere-tickling towers marked the location of the    
    
		
	
	
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