Barton was unique--an absolutely self-sufficient human being. The biggest problem he had in space was holding on to his sanity. And he solved it by altering time itself to suit his needs....

As a Watchman in a man-made kind of observational meteor floating millions of miles from nowhere out among the planets, Barton had two main duties. To keep his sanity and to keep the watch. The second was simple. The gadgets all took care of themselves. All Barton did was send in a report in case an alarm went off indicating something was wrong with some gadget or other.

Staying sane was supposed to be a watcher's big problem. Barton couldn't figure out why they were so concerned, especially the neuropsychologist or whatever he was, Von Ulrich, who was always coming around in his clinical space boat, studying Barton, asking him questions, giving him all kinds of tests.

Once something glinted like a mote in sunlight past the observation port and Von Ulrich said, "That's Collins out there. Collins was here only a week and he put on a pressure suit and jumped into space. He's still rotating round and round out there."

"Poor devil," Barton said.

"Most of them don't even last a week out here, Barton. Six months is the maximum. You've been here almost a year and you're liable to start cracking any minute. I don't like the way things look."

"I feel fine, sir."

Several months later, Von Ulrich dropped by again. "How are things going, Barton?"

"Great, sir. Just swell."

"You feel comfortable, no anxiety?"

"I feel fine."

"You've done a fine job, Barton--so far."

"Thank you, sir."

"You manage to keep occupied?"

"I just take it easy, sir."

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