"Space," affirmed Hackett. "They're waitin', like we all are, for the time we can start movin' people upstairs." Justin said nothing, and Hackett stared out the window. Then, a bit too casually: "I hear Austin's goin' before Congress with some fool announcement?" Justin thought: Damn Austin! If ever he needed grass roots support which only the Bosses could give, it was now. Yet the idiot had failed even to consult the most powerful man in the East! "Yes," Justin said, "and after that, I'm to make an announcement, too." * * * * * Hackett asked with blunt anger: "You tellin'? Or is it too top-drawer for the likes of me?" "No, no. Listen! He should have told you. I don't blame you for being sore, or McPhail or Harvey and the rest of your bunch. But this is once you've got to forgive him. You know the strain he's been under and it's too important for the country--" He glanced at Doris, not wishing to shock her, wondering how much she had guessed. "He's going to announce," Justin said slowly, "that the Space Program has failed." For an utterly disbelieving moment, Boss Hackett sat very still. Only his hands moved, to clench and unclench. "The blasted fool!" Justin waited. "And I'm supposed to forgive that? Why, he'll lose the election for sure now--not that he had much chance!" Justin said quietly: "Isn't it about time we quit kidding ourselves?" Hackett glared. "My God, man! To destroy in a single stroke everything we've looked forward to for Heaven knows how many years! It's our only hope!" Justin shook his head. "Not our only hope." Again he glanced at Doris, disliking to leave her alone now that it might happen at any hour. Still, there were the women next door. He said: "If you could spare a few hours, I want you to see what I've done up at my lab at Camp Jukes." * * * * * As the charcoal-burning Government car inched on through the miserable, sluggish throngs of mid-Manhattan, Justin closed his eyes. It was all there, every evil man had prophesied for multiplying man: the skin lesions of pellagra, the deformities left by infantile rickets, the starvation of face and body and mind. Silent expressionless sheep, they moved slowly out of the way; and only a few of the more alert turned to curse or spit. At 42nd and Fifth, long lines queued patiently up worn stone steps to secure their meager daily rations in what had once been the great Public Library. The driver was new, and new to New York. "Jeez! Where do they live, sir?" Justin nodded toward the soaring skyscrapers, weather-blackened monuments to a commercial past. "As far up," he said wearily, "as they care to climb." Hackett emerged from his moody silence. "Where you from, boy?" "Iowa, sir." "It's better out there?" "Well, sir, really not. They're hungry, too. But there does seem a bit more room." "Like for some of our people?"