This one dim cool Saturday morning I was lying in bed thinking about how I had flunked my semantics exam the day before at formula-school, when I heard the gang yelling below. It was hardly 7 A. M. And there was still a lot of fog roaming in off the Atlantic, and only now were the weather-control vibrators at each corner starting to hum and shoot out rays to get rid of the stuff; I heard them moaning soft and nice. I padded to the window and stuck my head out.
"Okay, space-pirates! Motors off!"
"Hey!" shouted Ralph Priory
. "We just heard, there's a new schedule today! The Moon Job, the one with the new
XL3 motor, is cutting gravity in an hour!"
"Buddha, Muhammad, Allah, and other real and semi-mythological figures" I said, and went away from the window so fast the concussion laid all the boys out on my lawn.
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