"... at a banquet given for members of the committee. Prominent among the guests was Mrs. Mary A. Hastings, wife of Captain John Hastings who is making history in his FTL flight to Alpha Centauri. Captain Hastings will test his invention, the electron-lightscope, from our neighboring sun. It is reliably reported that the lightscope will revolutionize astral observation, in that it will replace the telescope, and will bring distant galaxies to within a few hundred feet of the earth.

"Mrs. Hastings, smartly gowned, was seated next to Co-ordinator Charles Lathrop, who had—"

Someone jostled into the machine. The groove was lost.

Hastings spoke slowly. "I'd like to hear the rest of it."

Kitson was carefully unrolling his breechskins.

"I'd like to hear the rest of it, I said."

"Yes, sir," someone murmured.

"... was seated next to Charles Lathrop, who had escorted her to the banquet, in the absence of the Captain. They danced frequently to the strains of the Deimos Orchestra which was rocketed here for the pro—"

"That's enough," said Hastings, staring whitely.

The mechanic took two steps toward him. "Is something wrong, sir? You look ill."

"Not at all, Mr. Kitson, not at all." His eyes snapped back to the man in front of him, astraddle a newborn idea. "I was merely considering Peeping Toms, Mr. Kitson."

"Beg pardon, Sir?"

"Peeping Toms. Never heard of them, have you?"

"No, sir. I don't think any of us have."

"What a pity. A most fascinating subject. Found in a twentieth century history of the minor vices."

"Yes, sir."

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