"I've given it a lot of thought," he told them. "Sweeping changes must be made if we're to right a nasty situation."
They all agreed.
"First, the jobs of the highest skill will go to ridge-heads. Turnabout, eh, my friends? Henceforth, ridge-heads are bio-technicians."
Two of his lieutenants smiled, nodded their satisfaction. Ker-jon said: "I don't know if that's wise. For one thing, you haven't had training along those lines; you're liable to botch—"
"That's fantastic. If the non-mutants could do it, we can, too. Shall we vote?"
They did. Three to one.
"You see," Flam-harol explained, "we deserve those jobs."
"Well, what about the current bio-techs?"
"Oh, them. Why, they'll be menials, of course. Not discriminated against, not really; it's just that they've held their lofty positions too long."
"It wasn't their fault—" Ker-jon began.