Ross Metaxa said sourly, “Not too much humor, please. You don't act as though getting this position means much to you.”
Ronny said slowly, “I figured out some time ago that every young man on Earth yearns for a job that will send him shuttling from one planet to another. To achieve it they study, they sweat, they make all out efforts to meet and suck up to anybody they think might help. Finally, when and [pg 013] if they get an interview for one of the few openings, they spruce up in their best clothes, put on their best party manners, present themselves as the sincere, high I.Q., ambitious young men that they are—and then flunk their chance. I decided I might as well be what I am.”
Ross Metaxa looked at him. “O.K.,” he said finally. “We'll give you a try.”
Ronny said blankly, “You mean I've got the job?”
“That's right.”
“I'll be damned.”
“Probably,” Metaxa said. He yawned. “Do you know what Section G handles?”
“Well no, but as for me, just so I get off Earth and see some of the galaxy.”
Metaxa had been sitting with his heels on his desk. Now he put them down and reached a hand into a drawer to emerge with a brown bottle and two glasses. “Do you drink?” he said.