where the electrons are kept."
"I'm not going to drink that much. Walt and I need a discussion," he said. "And in the meantime, haul my spinach out of the office, will you, and take it back to the electronics office? I'll be needing it back there."
"O.K., Don," she said. "I'll see you later."
Channing left to go to the ninth level. He stopped long enough to collect Walt Franks.
Over a tall glass of beer, Channing told Franks of Burbank's visit. And why.
Only one thing stuck in Franks' mind. "Did you say that he might close Joe's?" asked Franks.
"He said that if it were in his power to do so, he would."
"Heaven forbid. Where will we go to be alone?"
"Alone?" snorted Channing. The barroom was half filled with people, being the only drinking establishment for sixty-odd million miles.
"Well, you know what I mean."
"I could smuggle in a few cases of beer," suggested Don.
"Couldn't we smuggle him out?"
"That would be desirable. But I think he is here to stay. Darn it all, why do they have to appoint some confounded political pal to a job like this? I'm telling you, Walt, he must weigh two hundred if he weighs a pound. He holds his stomach on his lap when he sits down."
Walt looked up and down Channing's slender figure. "Well, he won't be holding Westland on his lap if it is filled with stomach."
"I never hold Westland on my lap--"
"No?"
"--during working hours!" finished Channing. He grinned at Franks and ordered another beer. "And how is the Office of Beam Control going to make out under the new regime?"
"I'll answer that after I see how the new regime treats the Office of Beam Control," answered Franks. "I doubt that he can do much to bugger things up in my office. There aren't many cheaper ways to direct a beam, you know."
"Yeah. You're safe."
"But what I can't understand is why they didn't continue you in that job. You've been handling the business ever since last December when Peters got sick. You've been doing all right."
"Doing all right just means that I've been carrying over Peters' methods and ideas. What the Commission wants, apparently, is something new. Ergo the new broom."
"Personally, I like that one about the old shoes being more comfortable," said Franks. "If you say the right word, Don, I'll slip him a dose of high voltage. That should fix him."
"I think that the better way would be to work for the bird. Then when he goes, I'll have his recommendation."
"Phooey," snorted Franks, "They'll just appoint another political pal. They've tried it before and they'll try it again. I wonder what precinct he carries."
The telephone rang in the bar, and the bartender, after answering, motioned to Walt Franks. "You're wanted in your office," said the bartender. "And besides," he told Channing, "if I'm going to get lunch for three thousand people, you'd 

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