The boy’s name was Dennis Ogg. His father had been Professor of Mathematics at Harvard and Venusburg Universities, and Dennis seemed to accept the fact that a tragic accident during a rocket trip back to Earth on vacation had caused his parents’ death. It appeared that Dennis had a mind that could encompass the most complicated mathematical and philosophical problems as easily as normal children understood nursery rhymes. * * * * * At three Dennis had dismissed Einstein of the last century as “kindergarten stuff.” At six he had completed requirements for entrance into Harvard University but a frantic directors’ board had turned thumbs down at the last moment, envisioning a tot in shorts toddling across the campus, smirking smugly after having confounded the leading lights of learning in the institution. “In fact,” Dennis told them, “my guardian has often placed me in competition with one of the largest electronic brains on Venus. I find it fascinating sport. I have even broken one record set by that big brain for solving a complicated problem.” “You....” Ajax gasped. “You’re kidding me.” “I wish I were,” Dennis Ogg replied, a trace of sadness in his voice. “I sometimes think it would be a lot of fun to be a dope.” “You mean you race them cy... cy...” Sailor Burns sputtered. “Cybernetic,” Ajax assisted. “Yeah, cybernetic. You race them cybernetic things—and _beat_ ’em?” “Every time,” Dennis replied wistfully. Illumination from heaven struck Fred Ajax. “Ah!” he chorused. “_Ah!_” He surged to his feet. “Dennis, how would you like to have some fun? How would you like to be in a _real_ race, with an audience and everything?” “Audience?” Dennis replied, blinking behind the large glasses. “I’m not sure that I quite understand.” “You’re fogging me, too,” the Sailor said mournfully. “Here’s the setup,” Ajax said rapidly, visions of gleeful creditors who nipped at his heels dancing in his thoughts. “Aha! There you are, Dennis!” This stern exclamation came from the lips of a seedy individual who had just stuck his bowlered head through the shrubbery. The rest of his frame followed in jerky succession. He carried а rolled-up umbrella and wore pince-nez glasses. He was prim and haughty, and Ajax did not particularly like his looks. Ajax immediately identified him as the guardian. “Dennis!” exclaimed the seedy individual, shaking his umbrellа and frowning sternly. “Who are these persons?” “And who the hell are you, getting so nosey?” the Sailor growled belligerently. He towered over the other man, causing a flinching response which was counteracted by a defiant curl of the lip. “My name is Ellsworth Cranch. I happen to be the guardian of this boy.” “Pin a rose on me,” growled the Sailor. “I think I’ll bust you in the orbs.” Feigning unconcern, Cranch said to Dennis, “I warned you that I would take stern measures if you continued to disobey me by sneaking out of the apartment. I—”