Vag piled the books on top of his desk, carefully arranging them so that their bindings evened up in a neat vertical line.

This was the weekend for reading. Vag ruffled through the reading lists he had placed on the corner of his desk and grinned. Two days of good steady reading and done with it. He took a book from the top of the pile, turned the three-way light switch all the way up, and settled down in his easy chair.

Vag opened the book and turned to the preface. "In the field of government operation of utilities generally considered to lie within the domain of private enterprise . . ." He turned quickly to near the middle and found a series of pie-shaped diagrams in rows across the page. He added the percents in one of the pies, found they came to a hundred, and closed the book. Some music would help; he leaned over and turned on the radio.

The radio whined and sputtered threateningly. Vag twirled the dial, but the thin vertical pointer only crossed quick pulses of raucous sound; then he caught one of the noise-streams and stopped to listen. "Let's switch down to the field now and liear the Harvard Band. . ." Vag snickered. He had better things to do. He started to turn it off, but then stopped. He might as well hear the score. There was a loud caw from the radio at the kickoff. Vag paused for a moment, clutching the book in his hand, and jumped to his feet. He held the book at arm's length, released it, and kicked it in a neat line against the wall. Vag was in there now, and this was the one that counted.