"Or you might be a research engineer!" He chuckled softly. "Ignorance is bliss, Gwyn. And how much do you know about reality? What do you know of the mysteries within the atom, or the strange way the Universe seems to be expanding as if it had exploded and the stars, including our sun, were still hurtling outward from the blast?" "Sounds like a good way to go crazy!" She looked up, intently. "I've never heard you talk like this." "Well, you aren't quite so ignorant," he amended teasingly. "You realize inwardly that your 'small town' isn't quite so contented as it seems--that beneath the surface, there's unrest. So maybe you read science-fiction because it deals with spectacular forms of unrest--men risking their lives in space travel or on other planets, changes and developments that cause revolutions or wars--and you find solace in that. The little unrest in your 'small town' no longer seems so bothersome." "Mr. Morrow," she spoke icily. "I do _not_ enjoy having you pick my mind apart!" _Then why must you criticize me?_ he thought. But he didn't say it aloud.... * * * * * Sunday afternoon, they went swimming. There was a secluded strip of beach where Morrow spread a blanket out on the sand, and after they had swum and splashed and dived to near-exhaustion, they sprawled themselves out on the blanket and let the warm sun dry their skin. Gwyn lay on her stomach and removed her halter, then rolled her trunks into a narrow band around her thighs. Morrow watched with mingled interest and affection. Gwyn scowled at him, then pretended to ignore him. When his skin began to sting through the sun-tan oil, Morrow suggested they move into the shade of the trees. Gwyn struggled back into her halter and sat up. They dragged the blanket back into the shade and sat down again. Morrow put his arms around her, and they talked for a while. When Gwyn came out of the bushes wearing her shorts and blouse, she grinned and wrinkled her nose at him. "This has been wonderful, Bill. I almost wish we could be like this forever!" She let him kiss her, then. They rode back to town on his little motor-bike and had cokes and hamburgers at a lunch-stand. The second week passed without significance. The other engineers at the labs treated him coolly, now. They'd be glad when he left. At home, his diagrams were finished. He went over them again, checking them thoroughly. Friday, a telegram reached him at the labs. STOCKTON, CALIFORNIA AUGUST 20 1960 BILL MORROW WESTERTON, NEW JERSEY HIRED PLANE AND FLEW RECON. PERFECT SITE LOCATED NEVADA. LEASED ABANDONED SAWMILL IN SIERRA NEVADAS NEAR HERE. WIRE E-T-A TO L.A. INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. MEET YOU THERE. D.P. SMITH Saturday, he spent most of the day settling his affairs and packing for the trip. The plan had begun. Whether it worked or not, he was going through with it.