suppose."

"The monks aren't allowed sex, booze, that sort of thing, I imagine."

"Good heavens, why not? In moderation, of course."

"And they live on a higher scale?"

"No, no, not at all. Don't misunderstand. The planet is a prosperous one.
Exceedingly prosperous. There is everything needed for comfortable
existence for everyone. Shangri-La is one planet where the pursuit of
happiness is pursuable by all." Captain Woiski chuckled again.

Ronny said, "It sounds good enough, although I'm leery of benevolent
dictatorships. The trouble with them is that it's up to the dictators to
decide what's benevolent. And almost always, nepotism rears its head,
favoritism of one sort or another. How long will it be before one of your
moderate monks decides he'll moderately tinker with the tests, or
whatever, just to be sure his favorite nephew makes the grade? A high I.Q.
is no guarantee of integrity."

The captain didn't disagree. "That's always possible, I suppose. One guard
against it, in this case, is the matter of motive. The _privilege_ of
being a monk isn't as great as all that. Materially, you aren't
particularly better off than any one else. You have more leisure, that's
true, but actually most of them are so caught up in their studies or
research that they put in more hours of endeavor than does the farmer or
industrial worker on Shangri-La."

"Well," Ronny said, "let's just hope that Tommy Paine never hears of this
place."

"Who?" the captain said.

Ronny Bronston reversed his engines. "Oh, nobody important. A guy I know
of."

Captain Woiski scowled. "Seems to me I've heard the name."

At first Ronny leaned forward with quick interest. Perhaps the cruiser's
skipper had a lead. But, no, he sank back into his chair. That name was
strictly a Section G pseudonym. No one used it outside the department, and
he'd already said too much by using the term at all.

Ronny said idly, "Probably two different people. I think I'll go on back
and see how Tog is doing."

-------------------------------------

Tog was at her communicator when he entered the tiny ship's lounge. Ronny
could see in the brilliant little screen of the compact device, the
grinning face of Sid Jakes. Tog looked up at Ronny and smiled, then
clicked the device off.

"What's new?" Ronny said.

She moved graceful shoulders. "I just called Supervisor Jakes. Evidently
there's complete confusion on New Delos. Mobs are storming the te