"This ... this is a terrible mistake!" he stammered. "It's ... it's too big--much too big! Now--by being cautious--we can enjoy our little evenings together. But if we anger the Happy Time, Ltd. people we'll lose everything!" Willy snapped his fingers impatiently. "What have we to lose? A chance to be tea-cup rebels! This young man is giving us an opportunity to do something about what we profess to believe!" The Digester looked pained. "We are already doing something," he protested. "Did I not bring Chapter IX of Don Quixote...." "You did, and we enjoyed it! But what if we could inspire a rebirth of art as big as a whole galaxy instead of entertaining each other with our little flings at Bohemia?" The little Digester struggled with the thought for a moment, then dismissed it with a shudder. "It's too big," he repeated miserably. "Please forget about it, Willy--our own way is best." He glared at Walther, and his distress turned to rage: "I warn you, young man ... don't start trouble for us! If you can't accept the ways of Earth, go back where you belong!" He held out a trembling hand to Willy. "Goodby, Willy ... I go now." He hesitated, then added with the wistful air of a small boy waiting to be praised: "In two weeks I will bring another whole chapter to read!" When Willy only shrugged, the little Digester turned away and sadly left the room. During the next two days, Willy contacted several other Digester friends. In varying degrees, he met with refusals from each. By the end of the week, only two of the younger Digesters in the Bohemian set had agreed to cooperate and even they were careful not to promise too much. "At this rate," Walther pointed out glumly, "it will take years to collect any real quantity of material--and I have only six months! Is there no other source?" Willy shook his head. "None that I know of." "There must be!" Walther insisted. "Do you mean to tell me that in all the homes of Earth there are no treasured heirlooms of the past? No books? No paintings? No recordings?" "Oh, I'm sure they are," Willy agreed. "But how to reach them? We can hardly advertise." He paused, hesitated, then snapped his fingers. "Wait--there may be a way--even more illegal than your first suggestion, but still a way...." "What is it?" "I used the word 'underworld' in speaking of our Bohemian group last night, but actually there is an underworld, of a sort ... trafficking mostly in liquor. The cartel's one-drink restriction has never been too enforceable." Willy lifted the seat of his piano bench and took out a bottle. "If you can afford it, you can always buy a bootleg supply." "What's liquor got to do with art?" "For a price--the underworld may be willing to traffic in art, literature and music ... in addition to alcohol!"