"Not near enough," Mac said firmly, "not when there are guys like you who get left out."
An introspective look came into Haywood's intelligent eyes. "Perhaps you're right," he said quietly. "Working here in the dispatching office has given me pause to think from time to time." He tapped his slender fingers soundlessly on the cloud bank, producing a series of delicately swirled vapors. "But we haven't any free tickets or smoke stands with naked ladies to give away—and no way to give them, even if we had."
"Then we'll have to give something else," Mac said solemnly. "Something like it's not something you can touch and pick up, but something like maybe these people can just think about it and it will make them happy."
Haywood nodded. "You mean something more of a spiritual order."
"Yeah. I guess that's it."
For a moment the two of them were thoughtfully silent. Presently Haywood stopped drumming his fingers.
"How would it be," he said, "if we made their baby a very special baby in some way? All parents are fond of the notion that their first child is the most extraordinary child ever born. Suppose we find some way to make this anniversary baby really unusual?"
"Why sure!" Mac said jubilantly. "That's it! I always said you had brains, Haywood."
"Thank you, Mac," Haywood said uncertainly. "But what special quality shall we give this child? Can you think of anything?"