t where does public
relations come into this? I can't see much connection."

* * * * *

Andrusco frowned, but without wrinkling his serene brow too much. He
went to the multipaned window and locked his hands behind his back.

"Let me put it this way, Mr. Blacker. With the Earth's population
approaching the three billion mark, you can imagine that real estate is
at a greater premium than ever--yes, even the remotest land areas have
gained in market value. But let me ask you this. If there were only a
hundred apples in the world, and you owned all of them, what would you
do if you learned that someone else had discovered a fruitful orchard,
which contains ten million apples?"

"I'd go out of the apple business."

"Precisely." Andrusco rocked on his heels. "In a sense, that's very much
the problem that Homelovers, Incorporated may have to face in the next
generation."

"Somebody swiping your apples?"

"In a way." The man chuckled. "Yes, in a way." He raised his arm slowly,
and pointed to the sky. "The apples," he said, "are up there."

"Huh?" Tom said.

* * * * *

"Space, Mr. Blacker. Space is opening its doors to us. Already, the UN
Space Commission has launched some two dozen manned vehicles into the
outer reaches. Already, the satellite-building colony on the moon is
well under way. The progress of our space program has been accelerating
month by month. The expert predictions have been more and more
optimistic of late. In another ten, twenty years, the solar system will
be beckoning the children of Earth ..."

Tom said nothing for a while. Then he cleared his throat.

"Well ... I'm no expert on these things. But maybe the population could
stand a little more real estate, Mr. Andrusco. In twenty years ..."

"Nonsense!" The voice was snappish. "The best authorities say it isn't
so. There's plenty of room on Earth. But if ever a mass exodus
begins--"

"That doesn't seem possible," Tom said. "Does it? I mean, only a handful
of guys have ever gone out there. A drop in the bucket. I mean, Mars and
all that may be fun to visit, but who'd want to live there?"

Andrusco turned to him slowly.

"The apples in the new orchard may be sour, Mr. Blacker. But if your
livelihood depended on your own little stack of fruit--would you be
willing to sit by and take the chance?"

Tom shrugged. "And is that the public relations job? To keep people out
of space