"Thanks, Smitty. One more thing. What's your opinion of the Rocket?"
"Greatest thing in history. Say, I heard you were going to--"
Stanley did not want to get involved. He hurriedly excused himself and
hung up. He looked directly at his wife. "Did you notice the separation
of means from end? Smitty thinks two things. He thinks he can prevent
war; that's one. He thinks the Rocket is a great thing; that's number
two. But they don't match, unfortunately.
"The Rocket isn't a means to happiness the way it'll be used. It's the
wrong means. And with a wrong means you invariably wind up with a
wrong end. A criminal seeks wealth. Does he get it? Temporarily. In the
end, he suffers. All because he took the wrong _means_." Stanley held
his hands out, uselessly. "How can I make you understand."
Tears were in her eyes. "I understand _nothing_, and don't need to
understand! Your job, they'll take it away from you and fly the Rocket
anyway!"
"I'll work on the legislation again, then!"
"And perhaps be killed? No, please, Will."
Killed. He looked at his watch. Exactly three.