IN THE JAG-WHIFFING SERVICE
BY DAVID R. BUNCH
The jag-stuff in those black rings was
wonderful, but why did they have to package
it with so many extra accessories?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1959.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I had always said there was an easier way. And I think, when we invade,I'll be proved right. But you know how things get started, and howpowerful tradition can be and how old-line thinking can keep people,even a whole planet, in a rut.
The big cargo saucers were getting bigger and bigger each year, whatwith the growing popularity of the jag-whiff places, and the jag-whiffplaces themselves were growing in number with more and more peoplegoing "on the jag" because—well, partly because—of troubles in thesky, like strange balls whirling around and unexplainable objectsgoing beep and wuff and wuff wuff. We of the saucers had slippedpast these first baby objects O.K. and knew they were just littleold harmless ping-pongs that chattered a little now and then likea greeting going past. But tell the people that! They'd throw a bigglass on one of the whirlers and see spikes sticking out and maybea big pair of eyes inside and a nose and a long red tongue hangingdown. "The Earthits!" they'd scream like they'd just fallen intoone of the hot canals, and they'd race off to a jag-whiff jag likeJudgment-Day-of-Sins itself was after them. And the funny part of itis, I guess the people were right being scared like that, the waythings turned out.
But is it any wonder we were having to increase the size of the saucersto space-haul all that jag-whiff up through the rattleballs? And a bigreason makes me think it could have been done more efficiently, we werehaving to take so much junk stuff, extra accessories I guess you'dcall it, to get the jag-whiff. Our Earthit contacts were always givingus the old breeze about cost of labor, cost of materials, improvementin design and next year's inventories. Apparently the dealers didn'tunderstand at all what the play was with us because they'd give usso much blab-blab that didn't apply, all about futuristic design andabout how one jag-whiffer machine had it all over another jag-whiffermachine, which to us didn't mean a thing. And we didn't talk, becausewe'd heard already how some Earthits feared the saucers, and how someEarthits said they didn't exist at all, and how some other Earthitswere on the fence, saying maybe they did maybe they didn't so what? andhow there was wide fear and great unrest among the Earthits in general.And when it's like that, and you're a possible source of the wide fearand unrest, a whole planet full of people can easily decide they don'twant any part of contributing to your pleasure.
And that's what the jag-whiff was to us actually, pleasure. Back homewhen our troubles had us down, or maybe we just felt like raisinga little dust, we'd go to a jag-whiff place. We'd plunk down ourpay-pictures, and the whiff-tender would wheel out one of those blackrings, which they have to keep under special pressures in our climate.Then he'd screw on the tube with the face piece and we'd take ourwhiff and something out of the black ring—just seemed like real thickchest filler to me—would spread all through to the farthest reachesof our breath bags and go into our blood and suddenly all five of oureye sticks would start whirling and focusing and zeroing-in for damesand