Here they sat on pale leather chairs and looked out over the expanse of the Central Laboratory. From where he sat, he could see a square mile of magnificent equipment: Serpentine condensers, enormous distillation columns, molecular stills, ultra-centrifuges, electron microscopes, all were spread out before him. Surrounding the central laboratory were the innumerable railings of the corridors leading to the individual offices. Upstairs and downstairs strolled scientists and Laboratorians respectively, all obviously contented. He turned to face Miss Chester who was lolling in the chair beside him. She had poured him a cup of coffee, given him a plate of rolls and was ready to talk. She reminded him that in 2005 it was found necessary to build research laboratories on the Moon to avoid the guided meteorites which the Aliens had been hurling toward the Earth. Since there had also been a shortage of trained scientists, it was necessary to train apprentices to operate the complicated laboratory equipment ... to perform the operations without bothering themselves with the theory. The Laboratorians were needed and they did a good job running specification tests on all the equipment necessary for the interplanetary war. After the war, the Interspatial Corporation had made it the Central Research Laboratory, since this had been the largest aggregation of instruments ever gathered together, and in the ten intervening years, the numbers of college-trained scientists had increased almost ten-fold. As long as the Laboratorians confined their work to the equipment they were familiar with, they were unbeatable. To guide them they had the Book, as the Technical Manual of the Interspatial Corporation was known, and the Laboratorians followed its procedures to the letter. "But they don't know _why_ they're doing things," Whitemarsh interrupted. "The manual's been in need of revision for the last five years, and research workers don't use the same tests all the time!" "Well that's right," admitted Sally without disagreement. "I usually have my particular laboratory instructions mimeotyped and bound in a little book. I've also got the instructions so fixed that if they do things wrong, I can catch them. And I've learned not to modify my instructions orally. That only confuses the men and results in chaos. With a little planning, you can get good work done, and if you don't mind humoring their whims a little, there's no reason why you can't get along with them." Whitemarsh wasn't so sure. He had no objections to jollying his subordinates, but he did draw the line at sloppy lab technique. He escorted Miss Chester to her own office, thanked her for the briefing, and then started to worry on his own. He took the speed elevator up to Dr. Sheridan's office. The Laboratory director was sympathetic. He looked at the broad-shouldered young giant, Dr. Whitemarsh, and reflected that this man was rated the most promising scientist the Interspatial Corporation ever had.