"Of course, we can't get them back if they won't come," he said. "If cybernetic remotes functioned operationally at this distance we wouldn't have to send men at all." He replaced the pocket secretary and looked at me edgewise, speculatively. I touched his arm. "Let's find another bottle," I said. He stepped back. "You found them. You tested them. You killed them." And the government man walked away and left me standing with a murderer. * * * * * You see it now, don't you, General? What I'm carrying around on my back is guilt. Not guilt complex, not guilt fixation, just plain old Abel-Cain _guilt_. In this nice, well-ordered age I'm a killer and everybody knows it. You see our mistake, General. We sent men with variable amounts of loneliness. These amounts could alter. But now we have a golden opportunity. The _Evening Star_ is waiting and I have found for you a man with the true measure of loneliness. It is impossible for this man to become any more or any less lonely. It isn't the Ultimate Possible Loneliness, understand that, General. It's just that by himself or with others he is always in a crowd of three, no more, no less. The interstellar ship is waiting. So tell me, General, have you ever seen a lonelier man than me, your humble servitor, Dr. Thorn? No, I mean it. Have you? THE END Transcriber's Note This etext was produced from _Amazing Science Fiction Stories_ March 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. End of Project Gutenberg's Measure for a Loner, by James Judson Harmon