"Not exactly. Did you ever study a dynamo, Oakey? It doesn't make energy, it converts one form into another form, the stuff we call electricity. But it seems to do it intelligently. Supposing your generator makes a kilowatt of power and you're lighting a string of light bulbs with it. There's ten bulbs, each using 100 watts of power, but some economical so-and-so comes along and turns out five of them. You'd expect the generator to get all fouled up, or maybe burn out some wires, but it goes along at the same speed and makes just 500 watts of power, no more, no less. Dynamos are like that, they never waste their output." "Is that life?" "In a way it is," said Al. "Like I said, we're not generators, but life may be just a process of making a little energy. We make just enough to keep the merry-go-round going. Then something goes wrong. We start making more than we should. We get overcharged, like a battery. The energy has to go somewhere, so we start shooting sparks." * * * * * Oakey laughed. "Your theories by-pass some of nature's laws and they would make a logician take to a sick bed, but they sound good." He turned his eyes on the chronometer a moment. "What fouls up the safety valve, as long as we're mixing metaphors?" "Maybe we've got more than life," said Al. "We've got emotions, consciousness and a lot of things that life in general doesn't have. But you and I can control our emotions. We're cold-blooded. I just shot a friend, your friend too and you let me do it. Our cold-blooded common sense told us it was the thing to do. We have to stomp out the Quinnies before we land on the Green Planet. If you get the disease, I'll kill you, just like I killed Joe. If I get it, you'll kill me--" "No, commander. I won't." "Then I'll kill myself and save you the trouble. But maybe we won't get it. Maybe we're immune for one reason or another." "We're not alike either in temperament or physically. I'm young, Al. You're older. You're a hell of a lot colder-blooded than I am. Hell, I've got emotions. I couldn't do what you did. Organically we're different, too. My cells may be the same, but they're conditioned differently. I'm allergic to certain kinds of cheese--" "So are lots of people. I could establish an allergy to the same things you can't take. That shows our chemistry _is_ the same." Oakey glanced at the instruments again. "Better take over, sir. There's only four minutes left." Al strapped himself into his seat. Oakey already had adjusted his harness and now the two men adjusted their bodies to fit the contours of the chairs that would lessen the punishment of sudden acceleration. The commander gripped the lever that would kick atomic fuel into the rocket chambers. "One minute," said Oakey. Al injected the fuel and then placed his finger over the firing button. "Thirty seconds ... twenty ... ten ... five, four, three, two--" Both men tensed. "--one ... ZERO!"