Bread Overhead | Page 4

I noticed that order for metal-foil wrappers, assumed it
was some sub-secretary's mistake, and canceled it last night!"
Roger Snedden turned pale. "You canceled it?" he quavered. "And told
them to go back to the lighter plastic wrappers?"
"Of course! Just what is behind all this, Mr. Snedden? What
recalculations were you trusting, when our physicists had demonstrated
months ago that the helium loaf was safely stackable in light airs and

gentle breezes--winds up to Beaufort's scale 3. Why should a change
from heavier to lighter wrappers result in complete non-delivery?"
* * * * *
Roger Snedden's paleness became tinged with an interesting green. He
cleared his throat and made strange gulping noises. Tin Philosopher's
photocells focused on him calmly, Rose Thinker's with unfeigned
excitement. P.T. Gryce's frown grew blacker by the moment, while
Megera Winterly's Venus-mask showed an odd dawning of dismay and
awe. She was getting new squawks in her earphones.
"Er ... ah ... er...." Roger said in winning tones. "Well, you see, the fact
is that I...."
"Hold it," Meg interrupted crisply. "Triple-urgent from Public
Relations, Safety Division. Tulsa-Topeka aero-express makes
emergency landing after being buffeted in encounter with vast flight of
objects first described as brown birds, although no failures reported in
airway's electronic anti-bird fences. After grounding safely near
Emporia--no fatalities--pilot's windshield found thinly plastered with
soft white-and-brown material. Emblems on plastic wrappers
embedded in material identify it incontrovertibly as an undetermined
number of Puffyloaves cruising at three thousand feet!"
Eyes and photocells turned inquisitorially upon Roger Snedden. He
went from green to Puffyloaf white and blurted: "All right, I did it, but
it was the only way out! Yesterday morning, due to the Ukrainian crisis,
the government stopped sales and deliveries of all strategic stockpiled
materials, including helium gas. Puffy's new program of advertising
and promotion, based on the lighter loaf, was already rolling. There
was only one thing to do, there being only one other gas comparable in
lightness to helium. I diverted the necessary quantity of hydrogen gas
from the Hydrogenated Oils Section of our Magna-Margarine Division
and substituted it for the helium."
"You substituted ... hydrogen ... for the ... helium?" Phineas T. Gryce
faltered in low mechanical tones, taking four steps backward.

"Hydrogen is twice as light as helium," Tin Philosopher remarked
judiciously.
"And many times cheaper--did you know that?" Roger countered feebly.
"Yes, I substituted hydrogen. The metal-foil wrapping would have
added just enough weight to counteract the greater buoyancy of the
hydrogen loaf. But--"
"So, when this morning's loaves began to arrive on the delivery
platforms of the walking mills...." Tin Philosopher left the remark
unfinished.
"Exactly," Roger agreed dismally.
"Let me ask you, Mr. Snedden," Gryce interjected, still in low tones, "if
you expected people to jump to the kitchen ceiling for their Puffybread
after taking off the metal wrapper, or reach for the sky if they happened
to unwrap the stuff outdoors?"
"Mr. Gryce," Roger said reproachfully, "you have often assured me that
what people do with Puffybread after they buy it is no concern of ours."
"I seem to recall," Rose Thinker chirped somewhat unkindly, "that
dictum was created to answer inquiries after Roger put the famous
sculptures-in-miniature artist on 3D and he testified that he always
molded his first attempts from Puffybread, one jumbo loaf squeezing
down to approximately the size of a peanut."
* * * * *
Her photocells dimmed and brightened. "Oh, boy--hydrogen! The loaf's
unwrapped. After a while, in spite of the crust-seal, a little oxygen
diffuses in. An explosive mixture. Housewife in curlers and kimono
pops a couple slices in the toaster. Boom!"
The three human beings in the room winced.
Tin Philosopher kicked her under the table, while observing, "So you

see, Roger, that the non-delivery of the hydrogen loaf carries some
consolations. And I must confess that one aspect of the affair gives me
great satisfaction, not as a Board Member but as a private machine.
You have at last made a reality of the 'rises through the air' part of
Puffybread's theme. They can't ever take that away from you. By now,
half the inhabitants of the Great Plains must have observed our flying
loaves rising high."
Phineas T. Gryce shot a frightened look at the west windows and found
his full voice.
"Stop the mills!" he roared at Meg Winterly, who nodded and
whispered urgently into her mike.
"A sensible suggestion," Tin Philosopher said. "But it comes a trifle
late in the day. If the mills are still walking and grinding,
approximately seven billion Puffyloaves are at this moment cruising
eastward over Middle America. Remember that a six-month supply for
deep-freeze is involved and that the current consumption of bread, due
to its matchless airiness, is eight and one-half loaves per person per
day."
Phineas T.