Soleri smiled. “I see you’ve figured it out for yourself. We don’t think you’re usual either. A test will decide the matter.” “The test can come later. Who’s ‘we’?” “Myself and Randy, my secretary.” Inwardly Talbot sighed. He could hardly blame the guy. With a secretary like that he couldn’t picture himself spending much time in an office either. Evidently Soleri and Randy didn’t. No doubt Soleri would claim that last night’s meeting had come under the heading of business as usual. “Another thing,” he said. “How did you know I’d be at that bar?” Soleri shook his head in humorous resignation. “You don’t let much get by you. To be wholly frank, that’s why we want you. Well, if you must know, we called your apartment several times in the last few days. You were never home. So we put plant protection on you. It’s outside their normal jurisdiction, but they learned your habits quickly enough.” “I don’t like to be snooped at,” protested Talbot. “I don’t even know how you got my name.” “That one’s easy,” said Soleri. “Several years ago you filed an application with us. I looked it over recently. I’m a mathematician--an amateur but fairly good. I decided that if you’d put down the various empathy measurements correctly you might be better than you thought. Over a short portion of the curve, you know, a cubic or another equation can resemble an hyperbola. After Randy gets here we’ll see.” Talbot nodded. He could accept that. It helped to explain why he’d had so much trouble. People resented his competition. The thought gave him confidence, and he reached out easily for the next conclusion. “But you’re not being altruistic about this,” he said. “I may have an index of zero point nine, better than yours, way at the top of the executive class. But for all you know I may have no knowledge, no subject matter in my head.” He paused to formulate the thought clearly. “You want me for something else. Specifically you’re in trouble.” “We may not need that test. But we’ll take it anyway,” said Soleri. “Yes, it’s trouble. Do you want to see if you can tell me what it is?” Talbot didn’t so much think as contact Soleri’s personality. He knew that atomic energy was advanced and with it almost any degree of temperature could be attained. And the hotter the exhaust, every other factor being equal, the faster the rocket. He allowed the thought to float closer. “The technical problem is liners,” he said. “You’ve got to have something that won’t be melted or eroded by the exhaust.” “True,” said Soleri. “Metal or ceramics won’t do--not at the temperatures we’re working with. We have made certain mathematical investigations which indicate there _is_ a solution. Metal plus certain energy states might turn the trick.