First part and backstory: https://poal.co/s/scifi/788197 >The Fisherman and the Sphere > Etienne Tantin was satisfied with his catch that night. He hauled in the net and sorted through the sea creatures he had caught. He threw the sea-green glass sphere — or whatever material it was made of — onto the bed in his cabin. The sphere was easy to sell. Strangers liked to buy these hollow spheres, which were used to carry fishing nets, as souvenirs so they could enjoy the mysterious glitter of the glass at home. Passing the Château d'If at dawn, Etienne steered his boat into the fishing port of Marseille and indulged in pleasant calculations. If this streak of luck continued for a while longer, he could afford a modern fishing boat with an electric depth sounder and other gadgets in a year or two. On the distant horizon of his imagination, he could already see his own fish canning factory and a very wealthy Etienne Tantin! Good old Etienne was very determined — but also quite simple-minded: even if he had ever heard of a milkmaid's calculation, it would never have occurred to him that it might not work out for him — or that it might turn out quite differently than he had imagined. > After his account at Banque Méditerranée had grown by a tidy sum, Etienne drove in his rickety Citroën from the harbor to his hut, his head full of pipe dreams. It was no less shabby than the car, but a television antenna rose above its thatched roof, testifying to Etienne's devotion to technological progress despite his simplicity. The sun had already set; Etienne was in a hurry. He threw the sea-green ball into a corner of the hut, gathered up whatever food and drink he could find in the kitchen, and rushed to the television set so as not to miss the latest episode of the exciting series “Horace Still, Avenger of the Downtrodden.” Once again, Etienne was not disappointed. Horace Still, an enemy of evil and a selfless friend of the poor and oppressed, once again gave the villains a thorough thrashing; good triumphed and the bad guys were finally left lying on the ground, dead. Etienne went to bed with a satisfied grunt. Even in his dreams, Horace Still's radiant smile of victory haunted him. > The next morning, Etienne was awakened by an imperious knock on the rotten door of his hut. When he opened it, he recoiled in shock at the familiar figure standing in the doorway. > “Good morning, my friend!” said Horace Still. “Mon Dieu!” gasped Etienne, “You're alive, you're breathing, so you really do exist, Monsieur Still?” “What did you think, my friend?” smiled the avenger of the downtrodden. “I happened to be passing by. I like the area and would like to spend my vacation here. May I stay with you?” “With me, in this shabby hut?” stammered Etienne. “But of course!” nodded Horace Still, stepping into the living room, glancing briefly at the sea-green globe and the television set, and continuing with a grand gesture: “I will reward you handsomely, my friend! You know me! You will soon be a rich man!” > The simple-minded Etienne was not at all surprised. Horace Still had always proven himself a benefactor on television. However, he said hopefully and doubtfully, “How do you intend to do that, Monsieur?” A “Nothing could be simpler! Do you own any valuables—perhaps made of gold? Gold rules the world, I've been told!” “Made of gold? Let me think—yes!” Etienne exclaimed. “Years ago, I found an old Roman gold coin on my property. Here it is!” Etienne rummaged through a drawer, pulled out the coin, and showed it to Horace Still. > “Excellent!” Still nodded. "We'll make it! Where there was one coin, there will be more. Let's dig for them!" They dug, and sure enough, a few days later Etienne lifted a heavy amphora out of the rich soil. The vessel, almost as tall as a man, with two handles, was filled to the brim with gold coins. They looked exactly like the first gold coin! > “I'm rich!” said Etienne, stunned. “What shall I do with this wealth?” “You will increase it, my friend!” suggested Horace Still. “I know,” said Etienne, “I'll build a fish canning factory. I've always wanted to do that!” > Horace Still seemed horrified. He raised both hands defensively. “Fishing is a barbaric profession!” he said. "No, no, Monsieur Tantin! Humanity is living in the age of the automobile. You and I will found an automobile factory and build the most sensational motor car in the world. First, we need an inaccessible site, far away from human settlements. Because we don't want anyone to see our cards, and we don't need any workers either. Our automobile factory will be automated down to the smallest detail!" > You don't argue with a benefactor, especially when that benefactor is Horace Still. Etienne was even enthusiastic. They purchased land in the Camargue, west of Marseille. It met all of Horace Still's expectations, because the Camargue consists of steppe and marshland and is mainly populated by mosquitoes, black fighting bulls, and pink flamingos. > “Our automobile will be robust, fast, and intelligent, like the bulls of the Camargue!” Horace Still smiled mysteriously. “We will call our company ‘Société Anonyme Taurus’!” “Taurus? What does that mean?” asked Etienne. > “Taurus is the Latin word for bull. It's just a coincidence that the Camargue is a land of bulls. But naming our car ‘Taurus’ is very meaningful. We have a lot to do with bulls!” “I don't get it!” Etienne was amazed. “Forget it, my friend!” smiled Horace Still. “I consider this coincidence a good sign. And now let's get to work!” > Everyone knows the story of the Société Anonyme Taurus. The Taurus soon drove on all roads across the globe. Its owners swore by it. All Taurus drivers claimed that it gave them an unprecedented feeling of safety and incredible responsiveness. Yes, they were even firmly convinced that the Taurus automatically avoided all dangers. > However, this seemed to change when the Société had the old Taurus hood ornament, an inconspicuous sphere made of anodized aluminum sheet with a small, heavy metal core, replaced by a much more valuable symbol, a real gold “T,” by its authorized repair shops. > With one exception, all the old hood ornaments were soon replaced. Strangely enough, from that point on, the Taurus appeared no more or less frequently in accident statistics than other cars. The feeling of safety was gone. A murmur of discontent arose among Taurus drivers. > Shortly thereafter, Société Anonyme Taurus announced that production of the Taurus car would be discontinued. Part 3: https://poal.co/s/scifi/788308