There were the two of them, the two lonely men, and I found them for you.
You remember the way I found them for you.
The intercom on my blond desk made an electronic noise at me and the words I had been arranging in my mind for the morning letters splattered into alphabet soup like a printer dropping a prepared slug of type.
I made the proper motion to still the sound.
"Yes," I grunted.
My secretary cleared her throat on my time.
"Dr. Thorn," she said, "there's a Mr. Madison here to see you. He lays claim to be from the Star Project."
He could come in and file his claim, I told the girl.
I rummaged in the wastebasket and uncrumpled the morning's facsimile newspaper. It was full of material about the Star Project.
We were building Man's first interstellar spaceship.