But Henig didn't know that, for he wasn't conscious of how much of a change the impact of love had made in himself. He was thinking about the last mate the psychological services had assigned him. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to see her litter of young, hissing and purring in the family nest. It was the first time in his life he had felt the need to go back, and the feeling was a factor no computer could measure. He would have clawed the throat of any scientist who told him such thinking was illogical, for Henig had found what he considered to be the higher logic of emotion.
Silently Henig scurried through the forest toward his shuttle, carrying with him a useless sample of dust fastened at the back of his mouth—and an idea that would one day overthrow his computer civilization. An emotion marked for export, from an anthropoid world.
The exportable commodity of man.