"I'm using common sense." Wakeman moved very deliberately between the girl and Benteley. "I'm sorry," he said to Benteley. "You're wasting your time here. Go to the Hill hiring offices—they're always buying and selling biochemists."

"I know," Benteley said. "I've worked for the Hill system since I was sixteen."

"Then what do you want here?" Eleanor asked.

"Oiseau-Lyre dropped me."

"Go over to Soong."

"I'm not working for any more Hills!" Benteley's voice lifted harshly. "I'm through with the Hills."

"Why?" Wakeman asked.

Benteley grunted angrily. "The Hills are corrupt. The whole system's decaying. It's up for sale to the highest bidder... and bidding's going on."

Wakeman pondered. "I don't see what that matters to you. You have your work; that's what you're supposed to be thinking about."

"For my time, skill, and loyalty I get money," Benteley agreed. "I have a clean white lab and the use of equipment that costs more to build than I'll earn in a lifetime. I get status-insurance and total protection. But I wonder what the end result of my work is. I wonder what it's finally put to. I wonder where it goes."

"Where does it go?" Eleanor asked.

"Down the rat hole! It doesn't help anybody."

"Whom should it help?"

Benteley struggled to answer. "I don't know. Somebody, somewhere. Don't you want your work to do some good? I stood the smell hanging around Oiseau-Lyre as long as possible. The Hills are supposed to be separate and independent economic units; actually they're shipments and expense padding and doctored tax returns. It goes deeper than that. You know the Hill slogan: SERVICE IS GOOD AND BETTER SERVICE IS BEST. That's a laugh! You think the Hills care about serving anybody? Instead of existing for the public good, they're parasites on the public."