вЂњвЂ¦what it all adds up to, ladies and gentlemen, is that Charley Dickon, and a handful of his friends in high places вЂ“ most of them right here in this room вЂ“ have cut off communication between Altair Nine and the rest of the galaxy.вЂќ So with the economy in the tank, our hero goes from corporate lawyer to public defender, picking up the case of a gang of young people who, not being pretty, strong and agile enough to make ends meet turn tricks, turn to kidnapping. People whose fortunes one would have thought were most directly tied to the implosion of the industry and the sudden worthlessness of their stocks were the very ones who always seemed to have a fat wad of cash on hand. The plant was closed.вЂќДЄnd yet somehow, the committeemen still had money. The shipping clerks in the warehouse were out, the pumphands at the settling tanks were out, the freezer attendants were out. The stenos in the pool, all but two or three of the five hundred who one had got out the correspondence and the bills, they were out. Pulcher had been on the corporationвЂ™s legal staff, with an office of his own and a faint hint of a vice-presidency someday. That their markets had vanished and the good years were over. вЂ¦the people of Altair Nine start hearing through their only link to the outside world вЂ“ the media, which is controlled by the Tourism Bureau вЂ“ that nobody wants what they make anymore. вЂњThe Icicle Works was the most profitable corporation in the Galaxy,вЂќ our hero explains during the climactic courtroom scene. Written almost exactly 50 years ago, вЂњThe Day The Icicle Works ClosedвЂќ is the story of the complete collapse of the economy of Altair Nine: a world sustained almost entirely by the production and export of rare and valuable pharmaceuticals. File under: 'Escapist literature my ass' (and crossposted from my other digs)

The icycle works