"I take it all back," said Grampa. "That computer won't help you with this problem, Junior. This ain't a long, complicated calculation; it's a simple problem in logic. It's a pircuit problem, like the one about the cannibals and the missionaries. We can't leave Fweepland because Fweep won't let our polarizer work. He won't let our polarizer work because he doesn't like gravity that's polarized in a straight line, and he don't want Four to leave him. "Now Fweep ain't the brightest creature in the Universe, so he can't understand why we're so gosh-fired eager to leave. And as long as he's got Four, he's happy. Why should he make himself unhappy? As a favor to Four, he'd let us leave--if we'd leave Four here with him, which we ain't gonna do. "That's the problem. All we got to do is figure out the answer. No use making a pircuit, because a puzzle circuit is just a miniature computer with the solution built in; if you can build the pircuit, you've already solved the problem. And if you can state the problem to Abacus, you've already got the answer. All you want from it then is decimal points." "That may be," Junior said stubbornly, "but I still want to know why this computer won't work. It won't even do simple arithmetic! Where's Four? He's the only one who understands this thing." "He's outside, playing in the meadow with Fweep," Reba said, her voice soft. "No, here they come now." * * * * * Through the airlock came Four, carrying Fweep on his shoulder like a raspberry cat without head or tail. Four's thin face glowed with exertion and glistened with sweat. Already the orange sun had begun to paint his skin tan. "We've been playing dodge ball," Four panted. "Fweep was the ball and I had to dodge him." "There's something wrong with this computer," Junior complained. "Take a look at it." "Sure, Daddy," Four said promptly, and he took his father's place at the keyboard. After a few moments, he began to frown, then detached a front panel. He started sorting through the maze of wires and electronic components. Grampa watched him with a wary eye. Joyce was unable to restrain herself any longer. "The way you people talk, a person would think we were never going to leave this godforsaken, miserable, uncivilized planet." "That seems to be the general idea," Grampa chuckled, enjoying her dismay. "Unless we can build a reaction rocket ship to push us out of Fweep's range," Fred said glumly. "We've got the iron ore!" Junior put in eagerly.