They were visible through the open window, standing together in the
grassy field and lost in animated conversation. The Industrialist's son
pointed imperiously and the Astronomer's son nodded and made off at a
run toward the house.
The Industrialist said, "There is the Youth you speak of. Our race has
as much of it as it ever had."
"Yes, but we age them quickly and pour them into the mold."
Slim scuttled into the room, the door banging behind him.