"He's approximately seven feet tall, Sylvie," said Hoppy, "and what do you want here, anyway?" "Just came up to see Blue Boy. One of the crowd dreamed him last night. Positively manic about him. I found out he'd be with you." "See?" said Hoppy to Gavir. "The Century-Plus mentality. You've got something they go for. Undoubtedly because you're--forgive me--such a complete barbarian. That's what they're all trying to be." "Spare me another lecture on Senile Delinquency, Our Number One Problem." She walked to the door and Gavir watched her all the way. She turned with a swirl of scarlet and a dramatic display of healthy young flesh. "See you again, Blue Boy." After Sylvie left, Hoppy Davery said, "That might be a good professional name--Blue Boy. Gavir doesn't _mean_ anything. Now what kind of a song could you do for the Farfel Flisket show?" Gavir thought. "Perhaps you would like the _Song of Creation_." "It's part of a fertility rite," Malcomb explained. "Great! Give the Senile Delinquents another workout. It's not quite ethical, but its good for us. But for heaven's sake, Blue Boy, keep your mind off MDC!" * * * * * The following week, Gavir sang the _Song of Creation_ on the Farfel Flisket show, and transmitted the images which it brought up in his mind to his audience. A jubilant Hoppy Davery called him at his hotel next morning. "Best response I've ever seen! The Century-Plussers have been rioting and throwing mass orgies ever since you sang. But they take time out to call us up and beg for more. I've got a sponsor and a two-year contract lined up for you." The sponsor was pacing back and forth in Hoppy Davery's office when Malcomb and Gavir arrived. Hoppy introduced him proudly. "Mr. Jarvis Spurling, president of the Martian Development Corporation." Gavir's hand leaped at the narvoon under his doublet. Then he stopped himself. He turned the gesture into the proffer of a handshake. "How do you do?" he said quietly. In his mind he congratulated himself. He had learned emotional control from the Earthmen. Here was the man who had ordered his father crucified! Yet he had managed to hide his instant desire to strike, to kill, to carry out the oath of the blood feud then and there. Jarvis Spurling ignored Gavir's hand and stared coldly at him. There was not a trace of the usual Earthman's kindliness in his square, battered face. "I'm told you got talent. Okay, but a Bluie is a Bluie. I'll pay you because a Bluie on Dreamvision is good publicity for MDC products. But one slip like on your first 'cast and you go back to the Preserve." "Mr. Spurling!" said Malcomb. "Your tone is hostile!" "Damn right. That Ethical Conditioning slop doesn't work on me. I've lived too long on the frontier. And I know Bluies." * * * * * "I will sign the contract," said Gavir.