do things; they _mean_ to do things, and nine times
out of ten, they end by doing them. It may take a hundred thousand
years from a Stone Age savage in a cave to the captain of a hyperspace
ship, but sooner or later they get there."

His mother was silent. The soulless machine that had been clearing the
table floated out of the room, the dishwasher in its rectangular belly
gurgling. Maybe what he had told her was logical, but women aren't
impressed by logic. She knew better--for the good old feminine reason,
_Because_.

"Wade Lucas wanted me to drop in on him for a checkup," he mentioned.
"That's rubbish; I had one for my landing pratique on the ship. He
just wants to size up his future brother-in-law."

"Well, you ought to go see him."

"How did Flora come to meet him, anyhow?"

"Well, you know, he came from Baldur. He was in Storisende, looking
for an opening to start a practice, and he heard about some medical
equipment your father had found somewhere and came out to see if he
could buy it. Your father and Judge Ledue and Mr. Fawzi talked him
into opening his office here. Then he and Flora got acquainted...."
She asked, anxiously: "What did you think of him, Conn?"

"Seems like a regular guy. I think I'll like him." A husband like Wade
Lucas might be a good thing for Flora. "I'll drop in on him, sometime
this morning."

His mother went toward the rear of the house--more soulless machines,
like the housecleaning-robot, and the laundry-robot, to look after. He
went into his father's office and found the cigar humidor, just where
it had been when he'd stolen cigars out of it six years ago and
thought his father never suspected what he was doing.

Now, why didn't they export this tobacco? It was better than anything
they grew on Terra; well, at least it was different, just as Poictesme
brandy was different from Terran bourbon or Baldur honey-rum. That was
the sort of thing that could be sold in interstellar trade anytime and
anywhere; the luxury goods that were unique. Staple foodstuffs,
utility textiles, metal products, could be produced anywhere, and
sooner or later they were. That was the reason for the original,
pre-War depression: the customers were all producing for themselves.
He'd talk that over with his father. He wished he'd had time to take
some economics at the University.

He found the file his father kept up-to-date on salvage sites found
and registered with the Claims Office in Storisende. Some