by the end of the first week, Burl Jasperson was restless.

He hated to sit still, and the hours and the days seemed endless. His
bald head and portly body were a familiar sight as he roamed the ship,
inspecting every detail as though it were his personal responsibility.
Once a day he called on Captain Evans to check on the progress of the
_Star Lord_, once a day he chafed under the cold courtesy of the
Captain's manner, and then wandered on. In his jacket he wore his pocket
recorder, and he was momentarily cheered whenever he found an excuse for
making a memorandum:

"Chairs in lounge should be two centimeters lower. Sell Deutonium
shares. How about monogrammed linens for the first cabins? Install
gymnasium?"

As he walked, he murmured these thoughts to his recorder, and each night
his meek and colorless secretary sat up late to transcribe them into the
locked notebook which was his special charge, after Jasperson had taken
his sleeping pills and crawled into bed.

On the evening of the eighth night out, Burl Jasperson wandered into the
Bar, and drummed his pudgy fingers on the table as he waited to give his
order.

"A glass of ice water, and a Moon Fizz. And be sure you make it with
genuine absinthe. You fellows seem to think you can get away with making
it with _'arak_, and your customers won't know the difference. Well,
just remember I'm one customer that does, and I want _real_ absinthe."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Jasperson," said the Bar steward.

Turning restlessly in his chair, Burl let his eyes stop on the
white-haired old gentleman beside him, happily consuming a brandy and
soda. After a moment's inspection, he stuck out his hand confidently.

"My name's Jasperson. Everything all right? Enjoying the trip?"

The pink skin wrinkled in amusement.

"I am Wilson Larrabee. Everything's fine, thank you, except that the
ship is almost too luxurious for a man of my background. A professor's
salary does not often permit him indulgences of this kind."

"You a professor? Of what?"

"Various things at various times. Philosophy, physics, Elizabethan
drama, history of science--"

"Myself, I never could understand why a sensible man would go into that
business. No money. No prestige. Never doing anything, just reading and
thinking."

"Every man to his taste," said Larrabee.

"Yes, within limits. But the things some of you professors think up!
Most of the ideas do more harm than good, scaring people to death,
hurting