He dug Forrester in the ribs one final time and sat back with melancholy satisfaction. "Well," Forrester said mildly, "what good is progress?" The old man, he assured himself after a moment's reflection, wasn't actually saying anything blasphemous. After all, the Gods didn't expect their worshippers to be mindless slaves. Somehow the notion made him feel happier. He'd have hated reporting the old man. Something in the outdated slang made him feel--almost patriotic. The old man was a part of America, a respected and important part. The respected part of America made itself felt again in Forrester's ribs. "Progress?" the old man said. "What good's progress? Listen, Daddy-O--how can the human race get anywhere without progress? Answer me that, will you, man? Because it's for-sure real we're not going any place now. No place at all." "Now look," Forrester said patiently, "progress is an outmoded idea. We've got to be in step with the times. We've got to ask ourselves what progress ever did for us. How did we stand when the Gods returned?" For a brief flash he was back in his history class, but he went on: "Half the world ready to fight the other half with weapons that would have wiped both halves out. You ought to be grateful the Gods returned when they did." "But we're getting into Nowheresville, man," the old man complained. "We're not in orbit. We can't progress." Forrester sighed. Why was he talking to the old man, anyway? The answer came to him as soon as he'd asked the question. He wanted to keep his mind off the Tower of Zeus and his own unknown fate there. It was an unpleasant answer; Forrester blanked it out. "Now, friend," he said. "What have you got? Just what mankind's been looking for all these centuries. Security. You've got security. Nobody's going to blow you to pieces tomorrow. Your job isn't going to vanish overnight. I mean, if you--" "I got a job," the old man said. "Really?" Forrester said politely. "What is it?" "Retired. And it's a tough job, too." "Oh," Forrester said. "And anyhow," the old man went on, "what's all this got to do with progress?" Forrester thought. "Well--" "Well, nothing," the old man said. "Listen to me, man. I say nothing against the Gods--right? Nothing at all. Wouldn't want to do anything like that. But at the same time, it looks to me like we ought to be able to--reap the fruits of our labors. I read that some place." "But--" "In the three thousand years the Gods were gone, we weren't a total loss, man. Not anything like. We discovered a lot. About nature and science and like that. We invented science all by ourselves. So how come the Gods don't let us use it?" The old man dug his elbow once more into Forrester's rib. "How come?" "The Gods haven't taken anything away from us," Forrester said.