“All right, Evan. You’re going to offer me a job.” Talbot settled back comfortably. Things were falling into the routine pattern again. “Perhaps. But first--do you mind telling me why you keep getting fired?” “I don’t mind,” said Talbot. He was used to impertinent and stupid questions. He was used to getting jobs in odd places and to the ups and downs that always seemed to straighten themselves out eventually. Some day perhaps he’d find himself in a situation from which all his empathy couldn’t rescue him. But he’d worry about that when it came. “You want to know why I get fired?” he asked, drawing the beer to him, and scowling across it. “Well, I’ll tell you. I meet someone like you. We talk, and are friendly. First thing you know he is offering me a job. I take it. In the beginning everything’s fine. I have a knack of knowing exactly what he wants. I get a raise practically overnight. “Then one day _his_ boss comes in and wants something in a hurry. So he talks to me very earnestly about it. Before anyone realizes what has taken place his boss is depending on me instead of on him. So what can he do? He finds some pretext and fires me.” Evan Soleri nodded. “And you don’t object?” “I get mad, naturally,” said Talbot. “But what else _could_ he do? He’s worked hard for the job and I come along and threaten to take it away. The point is--I’ve got no special qualification.” “Except empathy.” “Except that,” agreed Talbot. He took a long drink and set the glass down. “It’s funny. I get along well with people but my adjustment index isn’t so good.” “I’ve been thinking about that,” said Soleri. “Do you mind showing me your employment card?” “Sure--step number one,” said Talbot. “When do I start?” He handed over the card, and waved to the waiter for refills in the same motion. Soleri frowned at the card. “I notice you haven’t been tested in seven years. Why haven’t you gone back for re-evaluation?” “It costs money,” Talbot replied. “Anyway, aptitudes don’t change much after twenty-four.” “That’s usually true,” said Soleri, returning the card. “When do I start?” said Talbot. “To save trouble shall I have them make out the termination notice at the same time? They can safely date it two months in advance. I usually last that long.” “You may be surprised.” Soleri smiled. “I’ve a feeling you can work well at the top. You’ve been starting too low.” Talbot studied the executive. Curiously enough, he had the same feeling--if he ever got to the top. It was hard to do on ability alone. He never lasted long enough for anyone to find out how good he was. “What sort of work am I supposed to do?” he asked. “Interested?” said Soleri. “Have you heard of the perfect rocket motor?” “I’ve heard of it. Everybody has.” Talbot disposed of the beer. “It’s out of my line, though. I’m strictly business administration.” “Don’t prejudge what I have in mind,” said Soleri. “Have you also heard of Fred Frescura?” “The heat scientist?”