"Going to dial supper," she said, and went to the kitchen. Carrin smiled, thinking that soon she would be able to dial the meals without moving out of the living room. He settled back in his chair, and his son walked in.
"How's it going, Son?" he asked heartily.
"All right," Billy answered listlessly.
"What'sa matter, Son?" The boy stared at his feet, not answering. "Come on, tell Dad what's the trouble."
Billy sat down on a packing case and put his chin in his hands. He looked thoughtfully at his father.
"Dad, could I be a Master Repairman if I wanted to be?"
Mr. Carrin smiled at the question. Billy alternated between wanting to be a Master Repairman and a rocket pilot. The repairmen were the elite. It was their job to fix the automatic repair machines. The repair machines could fix just about anything, but you couldn't have a machine fix the machine that fixed the machine. That was where the Master Repairmen came in.
But it was a highly competitive field and only a very few of the best brains were able to get their degrees. And, although the boy was bright, he didn't seem to have an engineering bent.
"It's possible, Son. Anything is possible."
"But is it possible for me?"