"We're an all-Martian plant now," Huber said. "Even the front office will soon be all-Martian. The stockholders figure that the only reasonable thing to do is put a Martian in charge of everything. You were my recommendation, and the Board accepted it." "But strange. You work job, do not?" "If you mean it's my job, the answer is no. It's not my job any more. Oh, don't feel sorry for me. I _want_ to quit. I just haven't been pulling my weight around here for the last year. I'm getting lazy or something, Chafnu. The whole idea of working bores me silly." Huber went over to the musaphone and turned it on. "_Melancholy_," he said, as the haunting phrases emerged from the loudspeaker. "That's the way I feel about working. You know something, Chafnu? Sometimes I think that damned tune has something to do with it!" "Sir?" "Oh, I know it sounds crazy. But somehow, the way I feel about working and the way that tune sounds--they're all mixed up in my mind. Oh, well." The boss picked up his suitcase. "The job's yours, Chafnu. So's the office. Both of 'em aren't the greatest in the world, but I had some fun." He stuck out his hand. "Good luck," he said. "Cannot," said Chafnu. "What?" "Impossible for acceptance," said the Martian. "But why?" said Huber. "You know you can handle it." "Confidence great and very," said the Martian. "But reason is not for acceptance. Plentiful job for Martians." "I don't get you." "Declined offer responsible to plan change, understand. Quitting from factory do Chafnu. Otherwise business." "You mean you're leaving the factory? You're going to take another job?" Huber looked befuddled. "Excitement offer," said the Martian. "Great salary remuneration. Opportunity." "Well, I'll be damned." Huber grinned and slapped Chafnu lightly on his sensitive back. "I guess you know what you're doing, Chafnu. Plenty of opportunities for a Martian these days--especially since humans don't seem to want to work." "Situation so," said Chafnu. "Okay, then," said Huber. "Whatever you have in mind, Chafnu, I hope you make a go of it. Good luck, old pal!" "Friendship," said Chafnu warmly, clasping Huber's hand in his three and shaking it enthusiastically. * * * * * "Hello you today! Time again emerging for spins on table with disc black musical. Back up and sit relax! Pipe smoke and good food eating! Abundancy music available herein, bring pleasure immensely into home yours. Currency latest in recordings, employing old yours Chicho Chafnu, piping soon big favorite Martian song _Melancholy_. "But firstly, a message from sponsor ours...."