ignificant factor, there. And
how could you make it any better than it was going to be now? Even if
there were new dangers?

The future. There was no staying with the past. The Earth was becoming
too small for its expanding population. It was a stifling, dangerous
little world that, if the pressures were not relieved, might puff into
fire and fragments at any moment during any year. And the era of
prospecting and exploration in the Asteroid Belt seemed destined soon to
come to an end, in any event.

Frank Nelsen's drives were very strong, after so much had passed around
him for so long a time. Thus, maybe he became too idealistic and--at
moments--almost fanatically believing, without enough of the saving
grain of doubt and humor. The hoppers with him were much like
himself--singly directed by what they had lacked for years.

The assembly operation was quickly accomplished, as soon as they were
what they considered a safe distance from the Belt. On a greater scale,
it was almost nothing more than the first task that Nelsen had ever
performed in space--the jockying of a bubb from its blastoff drum,
inflating it, rigging it, spinning it for centrifugal gravity, and
fitting in its internal appointments.

Nelsen looked at the fifty-odd stellene rings that they had broken out
of their containers--the others, still packed, were held in reserve.
Those that had been freed glistened translucently in the sunlight.
Nelsen had always thought that bubbs were beautiful. And these were
still bubbs, but they were bigger, safer, more complicated.

A bantam-sized hopper named Hank Janns spoke from beside Nelsen as they
floated near each other. "Pop--sizzle--and it's yours, Chief. A prefab,
a house, a dwelling. A kitchen, a terrace, a place for a garden, a place
for kids, even... With a few personal touches, you've got it made.
Better than the house trailer my dad used to hook onto the jalopy when I
was ten... My Alice likes it, too, Chief--that's the _real_ signal! Tell
your pals Kuzak that this is the Idea of the Century."

Frank Nelsen kind of thought so, too, just then. The first thing he did
was to beam the Survey Station on Mars, like he was doing twice a
week--to communicate more often would have courted the still dangerous
chance of being pinpointed. For similar reasons he couldn't explain too
clearly what his project was, but he hoped that he had gotten a picture
of what it was like across to his girl.

"Come see for yours