Donnie stared at the toes of his boots.
"I've given this kid everything," Mr. Ames went on. "He's going to the best pre-nuclear school in the whole hemisphere. He's got his own rocket kit. Why, he's even been on a study cruise to the moon! How many kids his age have been to the moon already? I bet no other kid in our project has been there. And what do I get as a reward." Mr. Ames didn't wait for an answer. "Trouble. That's what I get, trouble. Why in Galaxy he can't leave me alone like a normal child is more than I can understand." He stopped for breath and lit a fresh cigar.
"Maybe the boy's sick," Martha said timidly.
Mr. Ames ignored her. "I've tried to be a good father to him," he said, his voice self-righteous. "I'm giving him a chance to make something out of himself. All I ask is that he be of service to the world, and make me proud of him some day. But what does he do? Does he concentrate on his career, like the rest of the kids? Hell, no, he wants to hang around me, always underfoot, always asking stupid questions. Play!" Mr. Ames snorted.
"It's not just play."
"Heh, what's that?" Mr. Ames jumped.
"I said it's not just play," Donnie repeated, bravely brushing away his tears. "You don't give me any—" he searched again for the right word—"any companionship. A boy needs companionship. Don't you understand?"
"No, I don't," Mr. Ames said. "And I'm sure they didn't teach you that in the Incubator either. Don't you realize you should be fully coordinated by now. Instead, you want me to take time from my work—Why it's preposterous. It's, it's—unscientific!"
"But, all I want—"
Mr. Ames held up his hand. "Enough of this," he said. "I refuse to discuss it anymore. Now go to your room and get ready for your study period."