It was rather pleasant to sit there savoring the odors. At times, they still seem more like those of a chemical laboratory than a kitchen, but I have become so used to associating burning starch products, centrifuged tannic acid, and melting dextrose with food that I am almost immune to the aroma of Prone food like juicy, sizzling steak. Almost. * * * * * Charlie Baxter finally came through the hatch. He paused and seemed to shake off what he must have thought was some olfactory hallucination and started to sit down at the table with the rest of the men. He looked rather pleased. He had probably decided being Accident Prone had deprived him of much of the company he had every right to enjoy with his shipmates. "Get out of here!" Frank Peirmonte yelled, jumping up from the other end of the oblong table. "Why?" Baxter asked in astonishment. "Baxter," I put in, "I'm afraid the men think they may catch radiation fever from a pile driver like you." "Catch radiation fever?" he repeated. "Men have been exposed to atomics for hundreds of years. Surely you men must know any poisoning in one individual can't be transmitted to another like germs. I couldn't absorb enough radiation to be dangerous to you in simple proximity and still be alive. Don't you see that?" At once, all of my crew at the table covered their faces with their arms. "Don't look at us!" Bronoski screamed, his voice knifing toward the higher octaves. Baxter gaped in a daze from one of us to the other. "What do you mean? Why shouldn't I look at you?" "You've got The Eye! _All_ pile drivers get it." "But I have to eat," he objected. "I'm hungry. Really I am." I swung around and exchanged a few words with Tan Eck, the cook, at the rear hatch. I took a steaming tray and went across the compartment, averting my face. "You will have to forgive these superstitious spacemen," I apologized to Baxter. "You go right ahead and eat just outside the door. I won't mind a bit." "Thanks," Baxter said, accepting the plate. He looked down at the white paste, black gum and cup of yellowish liquid fitted in the proper holes and slots, then up at me. "What is this stuff?" "You don't have to look right at me!" I snapped. "It is standard spaceman's fare--re-reconstituted carbohydrates, protein and hot ground roasted soya. This is stuff we had left over on our plates from lunch, all set to go into the converter, but Tan Eck reprocessed it for you. It's what regulations specify for an APD, j.g." Baxter opened his mouth and closed it hard. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He turned smartly to leave and I halted him with a palm up. "Baxter." He turned. "Yes, sir?" "We are moving to the other side of the continent to continue with the re-survey. I want to make it clear to you that you are absolutely forbidden to leave the ship. We can't spare the guards for your liabilities, now that you have thrown away your value." "Yes, sir."