Larry Woolford stirred in his chair. “We seem to have gotten far off the subject. What has this got to do with Self?”
The Professor seemed angry. “I repeat, I'm afraid I get carried away on this subject. I'm in revolt against a culture based on the status label. It eliminates the need to judge a man on his merits. To judge a person by the clothes he wears, the amount of money he possesses, the car he drives, the neighborhood in which he lives, the society he keeps, or even his ancestry, is out of the question in a vital, growing society. You wind up with nonentities as the leaders of your nation. In these days, we can't afford it.”
He smiled suddenly, rather elfishly, at the security agent. “But admittedly, this deals with Self only as one of many victims of a culture based on status labels. Just what is it you wanted to know about Ernest?”
“When you knew him, evidently he was working on rocket fuels. Have you any idea whether he later developed a method of producing perfect counterfeit?”
The Professor said, “Ernest Self? Surely you are jesting.”
Larry said unhappily, “Then here's another question. Have you ever heard him mention belonging to a movement, or, I think, he might word it The Movement.”
“Movement?” the Professor said emptily.
“Evidently a revolutionary group interested in the overthrow of the government.”
“Good heavens,” the Professor said. “Just a moment, Mr. Woolford. You interrupted me just as I was having my second cup of coffee. Do you mind if I—”
“Certainly not,” Woolford shook his head.