He remembered the beer this time. Elsie lay back on her bed, drinking from the can, one of her scuffs dangling from a bare toe. "The trouble with you, Fred, is you can't even rob an office." "I didn't." "That's what I mean. See? You just can't do anything." He lay back on his own bed and looked at her. There were a lot of things you didn't mind putting up with, voluntarily. You married her, so you'd look after her, trudge to the shipping room to work and trudge back. The tireder you got, the better. For evening came every day, and with the evening came sleep for his housing and eight hours for patrolling the Galaxy. And beyond the system, out beyond the dark lanes, there were endless forms of life ... and the two great developments of men, one stemming from the other in different ways, but each expanding, colonizing, growing ... all with problems for the Free Divers he led. "Wouldja get me another beer, Fred?" "Sure." He remembered to slouch into the kitchen, as if he did not care. And when you considered it, he didn't care at all. This was one path of human developments the Senators never thought of. "Trouble with you, Fred, is you're just a negative character. You weren't when I married you, but you are now." Well, she was certainly entitled to a beer for that. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Divers, by James Stamers