Publisher's Synopsis
The A.B.C., that semi-elected, semi-nominated body of a few score persons, controls the Planet. Transportation isCivilisation, our motto runs. Theoretically we do what we please, so long as we do not interfere with the traffic and allit implies. Practically, the A.B.C. confirms or annuls all international arrangements, and, to judge from its lastreport, finds our tolerant, humorous, lazy little Planet only too ready to shift the whole burden of public administrationon its shoulders.'With the Night Mail[1].'[1] Actions and Reactions.Isn't it almost time that our Planet took some interest in the proceedings of the Aërial Board ofControl? One knows that easy communications nowadays, and lack of privacy in the past, havekilled all curiosity among mankind, but as the Board's Official Reporter I am bound to tell my tale.At 9.30 A.M., August 26, A.D. 2065, the Board, sitting in London, was informed by De Forest thatthe District of Northern Illinois had riotously cut itself out of all systems and would remaindisconnected till the Board should take over and administer it direct.Every Northern Illinois freight and passenger tower was, he reported, out of action; all Districtmain, local, and guiding lights had been extinguished; all General Communications were dumb, andthrough traffic had been diverted. No reason had been given, but he gathered unofficially from theMayor of Chicago that the District complained of 'crowd-making and invasion of privacy.'As a matter of fact, it is of no importance whether Northern Illinois stay in or out of planetarycircuit; as a matter of policy, any complaint of invasion of privacy needs immediate investigation, lestworse follow.By 9-45 A.M. De Forest, Dragomiroff (Russia), Takahira (Japan), and Pirolo (Italy) were empoweredto visit Illinois and 'to take such steps as might be necessary for the resumption of traffic and all thatthat implies.' By 10 A.M. the Hall was empty, and the four Members and I were aboard what Piroloinsisted on calling 'my leetle godchild'--that is to say, the new Victor Pirolo. Our Planet prefers toknow Victor Pirolo as a gentle, grey-haired enthusiast who spends his time near Foggia, inventing orcreating new breeds of Spanish-Italian olive-trees; but there is another side to his nature--themanufacture of quaint inventions, of which the Victor Pirolo is, perhaps, not the least surprising. Sheand a few score sister-craft of the same type embody his latest ideas. But she is not comfortable. AnA.B.C. boat does not take the air with the level-keeled lift of a liner, but shoots up rocket-fashionlike the 'aeroplane' of our ancestors, and makes her height at top-speed from the first. That is why Ifound myself sitting suddenly on the large lap of Eustace Arnott, who commands the A.B.C. Fleet.
