THE COSMIC COMPUTER

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asked, anxiously: "What did you think of him, Conn?"

"Seems like a regular guy. I think I'll like him." A husband like Wade
Lucas might be a good thing for Flora. "I'll drop in on him, sometime
this morning."

His mother went toward the rear of the house?more soulless machines,
like the housecleaning-robot, and the laundry-robot, to look after. He
went into his father's office and found the cigar humidor, just where it
had been when he'd stolen cigars out of it six years ago and thought his
father never suspected what he was doing.

Now, why didn't they export this tobacco? It was better than anything
they grew on Terra; well, at least it was different, just as Poictesme
brandy was different from Terran bourbon or Baldur honey-rum. That was
the sort of thing that could be sold in interstellar trade anytime and
anywhere; the luxury goods that were unique. Staple foodstuffs, utility