He had asked for triple just to see what Katz reply would be and had expected to be refused. Surely, no matter how high his Ability Quotient, as the professor had called it, there must be scores of others who had placed approximately as high. But evidently they had wanted him, and fairly badly. The professor hadn’t hesitated at all. He wondered now what the other’s response would have been if he had demanded even more. He might keep it in mind, if he decided to remain on a second semester or more—but what had that been about his not being on a semester basis?

He lit out across the campus to one of the auto-cafes which he found almost deserted at this early time of the day. However, Jim Hawkins was seated at a corner table where they usually met.

When Bert came up, Jim said, “Scram. I’m waiting for a girl.”

“So am I,” Bert said, taking a chair across from the other. “So far, the right one hasn’t come along, old buddy.” He began fishing his Identity Card from his pocket.

Jim said, “This is the right one, but I saw her first. Scram.”

“What’s this scram thing?”

“Go away.”

Bert put the card in the table slot and said, “How about a beer? I’m springing.” He said into the screen, “Two large glasses of beer.”

His old time army buddy said, “You’ve got a lot to learn, freshman. When you’re living the student life on Guaranteed Annual Income, you can’t go around buying beers for people this early in the day. By the end of the month you’ll be starving.”

The table top dipped and rose again with two chilled glasses of beer. They reached out for them.

“Mother’s milk,” Jim said appreciatively. “You all signed up?”

“I suppose so.”

“What courses are you taking? Maybe I can give you some words of wisdom, old buddy.”