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"But why did you want to sell my book to a dealer?" MacDonald continued. Philon went on to explain the system of the poll quota. He told him a lot of other things too about the election of a President and the organized political machines that levied upon all registered voters what amounted to a checkoff of their incomes. Carol MacDonald said, "You mean that not everyone can vote?"
"Sorry," he said huskily. "It's all right. Feel your way." Rick did so, for an ecstatic ten minutes, then, realizing that time was moving and he was burning fuel at a terrific rate, he asked reluctantly, "What now, sir?" "Let's go home," Lipton said calmly. Landing was the tricky part. He hurriedly read through the landing checkoff list, then started in. Flaps, throttle setting.
Now only the ultimate steps remained, the final checks, the fueling, and at the very last, the placement of the tiny spacemonk in his specially designed carrier. "Let's go," Gee-Gee said. They mounted the elevator and were whisked upward to the final stage. Gee-Gee picked up his walkie-talkie from the rack. "Do you read me, Dick?" "Go ahead, Gee-Gee." "Tell Jerry to go through checkoff."
He barely glanced at them, punched a mark for each on his checkoff sheet, and handed them back. "Deckmen forward, tubemen to the rear," he ordered. "Navaho blasts in fifteen minutes. Hey, you! You're tubes." Feldman grunted. He should have expected it. Tubemen had the lowest lot of all the crew.
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