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I'm not an editor and never intend to be.
But you can judge for yourself.
DOES A BEE CARE?
The ship began as a metal skeleton. Slowly a shining skin was layered on without and odd-shaped vitals
were crammed within.
Thornton Hammer, of all the individuals (but one) involved in the growth, did the least physically.
Perhaps that was why he was most highly regarded. He handled the mathematical symbols that formed
the basis for lines on drafting paper, which, in turn, formed the basis for the fitting together of the various
masses and different forms of energy that went into the ship.
Hammer watched now through close-fitting spectacles somberly. Their lenses caught the light of the
fluorescent tubes above and sent them out again as highlights. Theodore Lengyel, representing Personnel
of the corporation that was footing the bill for the project, stood beside him and said, as he pointed with
a rigid, stabbing finger:
 There he is. That's the man. Hammer peered.  You mean Kane?
 The fellow in the green overalls, holding a wrench.
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 That's Kane. Now what is this you've got against him?
 I want to know what he does. The man's an idiot. Lengyel had a round, plump face and his jowls
quivered a bit.
Hammer turned to look at the other, his spare body assuming an air of displeasure along every inch.
 Have you been bothering him?
 Botheringhim? I've been talking to him. It's my job to talk to the men, to get their viewpoints, to get
information out of which I can build campaigns for improved morale.
 How does Kane disturb that?
 He's insolent. I asked him how it felt to be working on a ship that would reach the moon. I talked a little
about the ship being a pathway to the stars. Perhaps Imade a little speech about it, built it up a bit, when
he turned away in the rudest possible manner. I called him back and said, 'Where are you going?' And he
said, 'I get tired of that kind of talk. I'm going out to look at the stars.'
Hammer nodded.  All right. Kane likes to look at the stars.
 It was daytime. The man's an idiot. I've been watching him since and he doesn't do any work.
 I know that.
 Then why is he kept on?
Hammer said with a sudden, tight fierceness,  Because I want him around. Because he's my luck.
 You luck? faltered Lengyel.  What the hell does that mean?
 It means that when he's around I think better. When he passes me, holding his damned wrench, I get
ideas. It's happened three times. I don't explain it; I'm not interested in explaining it. It's happened. He
stays.
 You're joking.
 No, I'm not. Now leave me alone.
Kane stood there in his green overalls, holding his wrench.
Dimly he was aware that the ship was almost ready. It was not designed to carry a man, but there was
space for a man. He knew that the way he knew a lot of things; like keeping out of the way of most
people most of the time; like carrying a wrench until people grew used to him carrying a wrench and
stopped noticing it. Protective coloration consisted of little things, really-like carrying the wrench.
He was full of drives he did not fully understand, like looking at the stars. At first, many years back, he
had just looked at the stars with a vague ache. Then, slowly, his attention had centered itself on a certain
region of the sky, then to a certain pinpointed spot. He didn't know why that certain spot. There were no
stars in that spot. There was nothing to see.
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That spot was high in the night sky in the late spring and in the summer months and he sometimes spent
most of the night watching the spot until it sank toward the southwestern horizon. At other times in the
year he would stare at the spot during the day.
There was some thought in connection with that spot which he couldn't quite crystallize. It had grown
stronger, come nearer to the surface as the years passed, and it was almost bursting for expression now.
But still it had not quite come clear.
Kane shifted restlessly and approached the ship. It was almost complete, almost whole. Everything fitted
just so. Almost.
For within it, far forward, was a hole a little larger than a man; and leading to that hole was a pathway a
little wider than a man. Tomorrow that pathway would be filled with the last of the vitals, and before that
was done the hole had to be filled, too. But not with anythingthey planned.
Kane moved still closer and no one paid any attention to him. They were used to him.
There was a metal ladder that had to be climbed and a catwalk that had to be moved along to enter the
last opening. He knew where the opening was as exactly as if he had built the ship with his own hands.
He climbed the ladder and moved along the catwalk. There was no one there at the mo
He was wrong. One man.
That one said sharply,  What are you doing here? Kane straightened and his vague eyes stared at the
speaker. He lifted his wrench and brought it down on the speaker's head lightly. The man who was
struck (and who had made no effort to ward off the blow) dropped, partly from the effect of the blow.
Kane let him lie there, without concern. The man would not remain unconscious for long, but long
enough to allow Kane to wriggle into the hole. When the man revived he would recall nothing about
Kane or about the fact of his own unconsciousness. There would simply be five minutes taken out of his
life that he would never find and never miss. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]