or my
other troubles.

Mr. Atkins sat back in his chair and sighed. "Ah, yes. I don't suppose
you remember too much about the old days, not after the last two years
we've been through. People had problems in those days and they used to
have to solve them for themselves. People don't have to make decisions
any more, you know. Do you think you could still make a decision,
Gerald?"

* * * * *

I got a little excited and found it difficult to stop fidgeting and stay
quietly seated. I began to suspect that he was leading up to something
important. It could have been the transfer to another branch or an
out-of-town assignment which would explain our disappearance in the
future.

"I still try to make plans and direct my own future whenever I can," I
stalled.

"It's difficult, I know," Mr. Atkins went on, "especially when all the
news is about something that's going to happen a day or a week or a year
from now. It's not so bad for an old man like me, but it must be tough
on you young fellows. Too bad this Bilbo--uh--"

"Grundy," I said. "Bilbo Grundy." Mr. Atkins knew the name as well as I
did, but it was one of his little tricks to pretend he was getting old
and forgetful, although he really wasn't. It used to be a good business
tactic before the Grundy Projector came out. It wasn't any more--not
with people being able to see outcomes of dealings--but he couldn't get
rid of the habit.

"It's too bad he had to invent that fool time gadget," he went on. "I
suppose your wife uses it all the time. They seem to be very popular
with women."

"Marge gave it up a short time ago," I lied. "She got bored with it."

Mr. Atkins nodded thoughtfully. "Wouldn't it be nice to live in an age
again when none of us knew what was going to happen? When life had lots
of surprises--both good and bad? When you could get up in the morning
and not be sure what was going to happen before night? Would you like
that, Gerald?"

I didn't know what to say. He was off on that wandering-mind routine and
I didn't know for sure whether he was really rambling or not.

"I think I'd like it, Mr. Atkins," I said. "As long as everyone else was
in the same boat."

"_Would_ you like it?" He was suddenly looking at me with the shrewd,
out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye expression he had when he was handling some
wealthy client's intricate income tax problems.

"I mean it," I told him. "I'm tired of living among people who know