Boswell rapped for order. "Gentlemen, there's no need to waste any more time with this.... Now Harry, you know we've got no real jurisdiction in this. We're just advisory. The Kids are all wards of the Solar State and if you want to appeal for help through official channels, we'll be glad to initiate a request for you when we get back to Earth." I realized now that I might as well have saved my breath. It was the old bureaucratic buck-pass. For twenty years, the Uncles' visit had been merely an annual ritual--and they intended to keep it that way. They had a nice, soft touch and they weren't going to let anything spoil it. Sure, they'd initiate a report ... and by the time it filtered through the spiral nebula of red-tape, Adam and I would both have died of old age. I gathered up my papers. "Just forget it," I said sourly. "If there's no further business, let's adjourn for lunch and I'll take you back to the ship." * * * * * At the spaceport we shook hands and Hoppy hung back after the others had gone up the gangway. He put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry about this Adam thing, Harry." "Forget it." "I know how you feel, and I wish we could help. But you know how it is...." "Sure. I know how it is." "The Administration's all wound up in the Rearmament Program. Doubling the size of the space fleet. Everybody's edgy, wondering whether there's going to be war with the Centauri crowd. Hardly anyone remembers there is such a place as Fairyland. If we go back and kick up a fuss, no telling what might happen. Most of the Government budget is earmarked for defense. We might all find ourselves among the unemployed." I looked at him for a long time, until his eyes couldn't meet mine any more. "Hoppy," I said quietly, "how long has it been since they stopped thinking of Fairyland as a practical possibility?" He shrugged, still not looking at me. "I don't know, Harry. Twelve, maybe fifteen years, I suppose. There aren't many Happy Hooligans around any more--at least they aren't working at it. They're all getting rich off the defense effort." "So they're just letting us drift along out here because it's easier than disbanding the thing and trying to rehabilitate the Kids. That right?" He nodded. "That's about it." I took a deep breath, and shook my head. "Why, Hoppy? _Why?_" "Oh, hell!" he blurted. "Let's face it, Harry. The whole idea just isn't practical. It would never work." "Never work!" I shouted. "It's been working for forty years!" "Sure, sure--it works here. On an isolated desert planet a billion miles from Earth, it works fine. But you can't remake the whole world into a Fairyland, Harry. You just can't do it!" There was a sinking, sickening feeling in my guts. "Okay, Hoppy. Okay.... Blast off." He stood looking at me for a moment, then turned and hurried up the gangway.