I felt an almost irresistible urge to lean across the conference table and hit him in the mouth. I turned to Boswell and said, "Chub, I think you'd better get this pip-squeak out of here." Boswell glowered at Pettigrew. "Petty, I told you to watch your lip." "I don't have to take that kind of talk from you, Boswell!" "Yes you do, as long as I'm Chairman of this committee!" "Don't be surprised if we have a new Chairman shortly after we return to Earth," said Mr. Pettigrew smugly. Boswell grinned at me. "Mr. Pettigrew figgers he's got influence, Harry. He has a second cousin on the Senate Committee of the Galactic Council. Figgers he'll have me sacked and make himself Chairman. He ain't been a bureaucrat long enough to appreciate the red-tape involved in that kind of caper." I laughed, and managed to look at Pettigrew without wanting to hit him. "I don't mind questions," I said, "as long as they're put to me in a civil manner. "I'll tell you, Mr. Pettigrew, what the purpose of this 'installation' is. We're trying to find out how to make people happy. And we think we've got the answer. Don't let them find out that there's no Santa Claus, that everybody dies, that it doesn't always pay to be good. Don't let them know that sex is dirty, childbirth is painful, and not everybody can be a champion. Don't let them find out what a stupid, sordid, ugly, ridiculous place the world is. In short, Mr. Pettigrew, don't let them grow up!" "Nonsense!" "Nonsense, Mr. Pettigrew? You saw them. You saw how they live. You saw their faces and heard them laugh. Judge for yourself." Pettigrew scowled at me. "Am I to understand, Mr. Barnaby, that you seriously propose that this quaint little ... er ... experiment be adopted as a way of life, for everybody?" "Why not?" I was warming to my subject now, and I leaned across the table toward him. "Why not? We've had seven thousand years of civilization. We spent the first six thousand learning more and more subtle and complex reasons for hating one another and the last thousand in developing more elaborate and fiendish ways of destroying one another. And out of our so-called scientific advancement, accidentally, has come a thing called automation. The age of the laborer and breadwinner is past. What are we going to do, Mr. Pettigrew? Let man use his leisure time to discover even more effective ways of destroying himself ... or let him live in a Fairyland?" Uncle Petty turned his head slowly, letting his gaze travel around the room as if he were seeking moral support. He started to say something, then shook his head. "Think of it," I went on, "a whole world full of happy kids! And a new kind of aristocracy--the Daddies and Mommies. They and their children would be trained to supervise, to keep an eye on things, just as Ruth and I do here. The Kids could be trained to do what little maintenance the machines require--"