Publisher's Synopsis
IN THE COUNTRY OF THE BLIND, THE ONE-EYED MAN, OF COURSE, IS KING. BUT HOW ABOUT A LIVE WIRE, A SMART BUSINESSMAN, IN A CIVILIZATION OF 100% PURE CHUMPS? SOME THINGS HAD NOT CHANGED. A POTTER'S WHEEL WAS STILL A POTTER'S WHEEL AND CLAY WAS STILL CLAY. EFIM HAWKINS HAD BUILT HIS SHOP NEAR GOOSE LAKE, WHICH HAD A NARROW BAND OF GOOD FAT CLAY AND A NARROW BEACH OF WHITE SAND. HE FIRED THREE BOTTLE-NOSED KILNS WITH WILLOW CHARCOAL FROM THE WOOD LOT. THE WOOD LOT WAS ALSO USEFUL FOR LONG WALKS WHILE THE KILNS WERE COOLING; IF HE LET HIMSELF STAY WITHIN SIGHT OF THEM, HE WOULD OPEN THEM PREMATURELY, IMPATIENT TO SEE HOW SOME NEW SHAPE OR GLAZE HAD COME THROUGH THE FIRE, AND-PING!-THE NEW SHAPE OR GLAZE WOULD BE GOOD FOR NOTHING BUT THE SHARD PILE BACK OF HIS SLIP TANKS. A BUSINESS CONFERENCE WAS IN FULL SWING IN HIS SHOP, A MODEST CUBE OF BRICK, TILE-ROOFED, AS THE CHICAGO-LOS ANGELES "ROCKET" THUNDERED OVERHEAD-VERY NOISY, VERY SWEPT-BACK, VERY FIERY JETS, SHAPED AS SLEEKLY SWIFT-LOOKING AS AN AIRBORNE BARRACUDA. THE BUYER FROM MARSHALL FIELDS WAS TURNING OVER A BLACK-GLAZED ONE LITER CARAFE, NODDING APPROVAL WITH HIS MASSIVE, HANDSOME HEAD. "THIS IS REAL PRETTY," HE TOLD HAWKINS AND HIS OWN SECRETARY, GOMEZ-LAPLACE. "THIS HAS GOT LOTS OF WHAT YA CALL REAL EST'ETIC PRINCIPLES. YEAH, IT IS REAL PRETTY."
