"Thanks, Smitty. One more thing. What's your opinion of the Rocket?"
"Greatest thing in history. Say, I heard you were going to—"
Stanley did not want to get involved. He hurriedly excused himself and hung up. He looked directly at his wife. "Did you notice the separation of means from end? Smitty thinks two things. He thinks he can prevent war; that's one. He thinks the Rocket is a great thing; that's number two. But they don't match, unfortunately.
"The Rocket isn't a means to happiness the way it'll be used. It's the wrong means. And with a wrong means you invariably wind up with a wrong end. A criminal seeks wealth. Does he get it? Temporarily. In the end, he suffers. All because he took the wrong means." Stanley held his hands out, uselessly. "How can I make you understand."
Tears were in her eyes. "I understand nothing, and don't need to understand! Your job, they'll take it away from you and fly the Rocket anyway!"
"I'll work on the legislation again, then!"
"And perhaps be killed? No, please, Will."
Killed. He looked at his watch. Exactly three.
He answered the audio when it buzzed. "Stanley talking."
"Stanley, this is Cross, at Cal-Tech."