"You may consider me a philosopher," the man announced; "that is, in the fine old sense, a lover of wisdom. I don't think that will frighten you away," he chuckled. "I think I can see that you agree with Socrates: that you consider an unexamined life to be a life that is not worth living. Is this correct?" He replied that it was, and that he was a seeker of wisdom, and hoped one day to prove to be a lover of it--after he had found it. The philosopher smiled, and continued, "Perhaps it is best to be a lover of the search; perhaps, indeed, the search itself is the greatest wisdom. This used to be considered a platitude," he laughed, "when education was more wide-spread in the world. But I have never found anything bright and brand new that matches it. I do not want to be one of those who 'give to dust that is a little gilt more laud than gilt o'erdusted'. How about you?" He smiled agreement. He was beginning somewhat to like this man: but still he could not respect him, either as an embodiment of wisdom or as a seeker of it. His mind seemed only clever, and rather lazy and complacent with its cleverness: it seemed quite incapable of any really deep probing, or high flight. This was not his idea of a philosopher. The object of this scrutiny seemed somewhat to sense its import, and to shrug it off. "I could tell it at a glance," he said. "You're one of the most intelligent men I've ever seen escape from that monstrosity of a City. Let me congratulate you! It's a terrible thing to live like that. "One immense mechanized mass! One big idiot's delight, full of nothing but idiots, or morons at best. Everybody "happy": food, shelter and sex all taken care of, and real human contact at a minimum: a true earthly paradise. A paradise for morons, that is, for people who really prefer to live worse than hogs. God bless the dear technologists, who keep it going: they as stupid as the majority, of course, just morons with a little mechanical know-how, as the phrase was. And bless whatever powers there are, for the library, and the chance to escape! "I don't know how it came about, but there's something behind it. Just before the poor little fools could blow themselves up, the Disasters hit them: and while they were still traumatized, this system began to take care of them. It's a fine thing, I guess, for those that aren't capable of a life worth living. And for those that are, too: it seems to take hold of them at just the right time. It seems that it gives everyone just what he is best fitted for, and then lets him go. * * * * *