"I wouldn't say that."

"You can't kid me. Nobody gets over the hump that quick unless he's got a head start on the rest of us. Family, I'll bet. That's usually the answer."

Hendley was tempted to reveal his real status, in spite of the Investigator's instructions about concealing his visiting privilege. But the fat man's belligerence checked the urge to explain and defend himself. Let the man think what he wanted.

"Now I'm one who'd really appreciate freedom," the fat man declared. "I've had to work my way up. Started as a 4-Dayman. Yeah, it's true. That surprises you, don't it? You wanta know how I've done it? Work, that's how! No time off, no vacations, no extracurricular recreation. Sure I distribute game equipment, but I don't get to use much of it, except in prescribed recreation hours. Look at me! You think I eat a lot, I bet. Everyone thinks so. Well, half rations is all I eat—to save the credits! It's glands, that's why I'm heavy like this. You think it's been easy?" he demanded angrily. "Well, it ain't! It's been all work for me—I didn't have it handed to me on a tray!"

The swiftly generated violence of the attack left Hendley speechless with surprise. Then the irony of the situation struck him so forcibly that he started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" The fat man's face turned faintly purple with rage. Above the bulging cheeks veins crawled across his temples like swollen worms. "Sure, you can laugh! You never had to work for yours!"

"You don't understand!" Hendley protested. "I'm not laughing at you. It's just...." He shook his head helplessly.

"I'll bet they're all like that!" another voice cut in. It belonged to the woman near the front of the cabin. She had risen to confront Hendley, her long face pinched tight with hostility. "Making fun of the rest of us!"

A third passenger intruded. "Fair's fair," he said. He was a 3-Dayman, like Hendley himself, attired in the familiar blue coverall. "It isn't his fault he's young. Somebody had to work to pay off his tax debt. That's the system, and it works the same for all of us."

"He didn't do the work!" the fat man retorted. "Look at him! Gloating over us. I'm sixty-two years old—I've worked all my life. Never let myself have anything I didn't need. And it'll be two, maybe three years before I make it. How much time will I have left?" His red face thrust close to 

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