ce, I wasn't allowed the luxury of nervous reaction. Our
spacesuit man wanted an Ok on design changes. Changes? What changes?...
Oh, yes, go ahead.

A materials man wanted to know about weight. I told him where to go--for
the information.

A written progress report from the GG briefly, sardonically, said: "All
the talk about increased costs and lowered budget has decided us to ask
if any aircraft, missile, or AEC groups have come up with anti-gravity.
It'd be a lot simpler that way. Love and kisses."

I shrugged, wrote them a memo to take a week off for fishing, wenching,
or reading Van Es on the Pleistocene stratigraphy of Java. I didn't
care, as long as they returned with a fresh point of view.

Things were hectic already, less than four months after we'd started.
And we hadn't much to show, except a shift in the roadbed of the SF & D
RR. The opposition, growing stronger each day, could sit back and rest
the case, with nothing more than a smug, needling, I-told-you-so look.

The day finally came when we broke ground for the building. It was quite
an achievement, and I invited the GG to dinner. I'd been drawn to the
bunch of screwballs--the only name possible--more and more. Maybe
because they were my brain-child, or maybe because lately they were the
only human company in which I could relax.

The Hotel is about a half-mile south of Disneyland. I arrived early,
hoping to grab a ginger ale. Our set designer, Frank--christened
Francis--caught me at the door.

"Wanted to buy you a drink. This is the first time we've met socially."

That was true; it was equally true something bothered her. Damn it!
Trapped, I'd have to drink. We ordered, and I mulled it over. Waited,
but she said nothing.

* * * * *

The drinks came. I shook several little, bright-yellow pills from the
bottle, swallowed them, then drank. Frank cocked her head inquisitively.

"If you must know, they're for my ulcer."

"Didn't know you had one."

"Don't, but I'll probably get one, any day."

She laughed, and I drank again. I should do my drinking alone because I
get boiled incredibly fast. It happened now. One second I was sober; the
next, drunk.

Resting a cheek on a wobbly palm-and-elbow, I said, "Has everyone ever
said you are the most beautiful--"

"Yes, but in your present state, it isn't a good idea for you to add to
that number."

I shifted to the other forearm. "Frank, things might be different if