I really didn't."
"I'm glad of that," Leela answered.
"Just forget I mentioned it," Billy said, smiling stiffly. He stood upand raced upstairs.
"Probably gone to play with his rockets," Leela said. "He's such alittle devil."
* * * * *
The Carrins ate a quiet supper, and then it was time for Mr. Carrin togo to work. He was on night shift this month. He kissed his wifegood-by, climbed into his Jet-lash and roared to the factory. Theautomatic gates recognized him and opened. He parked and walked in.
Automatic lathes, automatic presses--everything was automatic. Thefactory was huge and bright, and the machines hummed softly tothemselves, doing their job and doing it well.
Carrin walked to the end of the automatic washing machine assembly line,to relieve the man there.
"Everything all right?" he asked.
"Sure," the man said. "Haven't had a bad one all year. These new modelshere have built-in voices. They don't light up like the old ones."
Carrin sat down where the man had sat and waited for the first washingmachine to come through. His job was the soul of simplicity. He just satthere and the machines went by him. He pressed a button on them andfound out if they were all right. They always were. After passing him,the washing machines went to the packaging section.
The first one slid by on the long slide of rollers. He pressed thestarting button on the side.
"Ready for the wash," the washing machine said.
Carrin pressed the release and let it go by.
That boy of his, Carrin thought. Would he grow up and face hisresponsibilities? Would he mature and take his place in society? Carrindoubted it. The boy was a born rebel. If anyone got to Mars, it would behis kid.
But the thought didn't especially disturb him.
"Ready for the wash." Another machine went by.
Carrin remembered something about Miller. The jovial man had always beentalking about the planets, always kidding about going off somewhere androughing it. He hadn't, though. He'd committed suicide.
"Ready for the wash."
Carrin had eight hours in front of him, and he loosened his belt toprepare for it. Eight hours of pushing buttons and listening to amachine announce its readiness.
"Ready for the wash."
He pressed the release.
"Ready for the wash."
Carrin's mind strayed from the job, which didn't need much attention inany case. He wished he had done what he had longed to do as a youngster.
It would have been great to be a rocket pilot, to push a button and goto Mars.
--ROBERT SHECKLEY
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ December 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
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