"But what happened?" the old man interrupted. "Tell you what happened,
man. We never got to Mars and Venus. Mars and Venus came to us instead.
Right along with Jupiter and Neptune and Pluto and all the rest of the
Gods. And we had no progress ever since that day, Daddy-O, no progress
at all and you can believe it."
He dug Forrester in the ribs one final time and sat back with melancholy
satisfaction.
"Well," Forrester said mildly, "what good is progress?" The old man, he
assured himself after a moment's reflection, wasn't actually saying
anything blasphemous. After all, the Gods didn't expect their
worshippers to be mindless slaves.
Somehow the notion made him feel happier. He'd have hated reporting the
old man. Something in the outdated slang made him feel--almost
patriotic. The old man was a part of America, a respected and important
part.
The respected part of America made itself felt again in Forrester's
ribs. "Progress?" the old man said. "What good's progress? Listen,
Daddy-O--how can the human race get anywhere without progress? Answer me
that, will you, man? Because it's for-sure real we're not going any
place now. No place at all."
"Now look," Forrester said patiently, "progress is an outmoded idea.
We've got to be in step with the times. We've got to ask ourselves what
progress ever did for us. How did we stand when the Gods returned?" For
a brief flash he was back in his history class, but he went on: "Half
the world ready to fight the other half with weapons that would have
wiped both halves out. You ought to be grateful the Gods returned when
they did."
"But we're getting into Nowheresville, man," the old man complained.
"We're not in orbit. We can't progress."
Forrester sighed. Why was he talking to the old man, anyway? The answer
came to him as soon as he'd asked the question. He wanted to keep his
mind off the Tower of Zeus and his own unknown fate there. It was an
unpleasant answer; Forrester blanked it out.
"Now, friend," he said. "What have you got? Just what mankind's been
looking for all these centuries. Security. You've got security. Nobody's
going to blow you to pieces tomorrow. Your job isn't going to vanish
overnight. I mean, if you--"
"I got a job," the old man said.
"Really?" Forrester said politely. "What is it?"
"Retired. And it's a tough job, too."
"Oh," Forrester said.
"And anyhow," the old man went on, "what's all this got to do with
progress?"