"I wrote an article on the subject some time ago," Ambly told him, "but was never able to get it published. It seems that people, for the most part, are more interested in the traditional sordid-sensational type of juvenile delinquency. "Whereas, this is something different, something unique. It isn't the result of poverty or broken homes, ignorance or twisted personalities--this is a mixture of genius, knowledge, restlessness, and something else I don't think we understand." "What do you suggest be done about it?" Duran asked. "Well, the first step," said Ambly, "is to get Congress to recognize the problem for what it is. And even that won't be easy." "That's where you're supposed to come in," the Governor said, grinning a little guiltily. "Fritz has been tryin' to get me to talk to you about it for some months. I've got to admit, though, that the business this afternoon involvin' your son was what finally convinced me you might be sold." "I'm sold, Will," Duran told him. "But what's the solution? We can't supervise the activities of every kid in the country with an IQ above a hundred and ten. Anyway, they're too limited as it is. That, it seems to me, is part of the trouble. And we can't hold their parents accountable. Responsibility has to be an individual matter. So what's the solution?" Governor Gorton raised a quizzical eyebrow at Fritz Ambly, who in turn merely shrugged. The senator glanced at each of them, then down at his drink. "So there isn't one," he said. "Whatever it is," said Ambly, "it won't be simple or painless. There's only one such solution, and that's the time-honored technique of letting them grow into maturity. And even that is far from painless and simple to those doing the growing, nor is it always the solution." "Yet you're convinced this--" the senator paused briefly, "phenomenon constitutes a danger to the nation?" Ambly merely smiled. But very, very grimly. "Well, think it over, Vance," the Governor said, getting to his feet. "Say, there are a couple of hydroponics men here somewhere who are pretty interested in meetin' you. You've heard of Van Neef Industries. He's one of 'em." _So much for the welfare of the nation_, Duran thought with a taste of bitterness. _Now back to politics._ But he finished off his drink, and put out his cigar, and rose to follow the Governor. Politics, after all, was the reason he had come. * * * * * It was two a.m. before Senator Vance Duran wearily dropped into bed. But he found no rest in sleep that night. For in his dreams he seemed to see a youngster walking, now through a forest, now through a city, now through an autumn countryside. And in the boy's hand was a tightly capped bottle. And the expression on his face was an enigma.... Early the next morning Jack Woodvale parked the helicopter in a lot back of the city youth detention home. Five minutes later the senator was again talking to his older son.