Jamais poderá haver um homem tão perdido como aquele que está perdido nos vastos e intricados corredores de sua própria mente solitária, onde ninguém… - Isaac Asimov

you can't fight a tremendous, emotion filled drive with cold mathematics. This man Hilder has invented a name, 'Wasters.' Slowly he has built this name up into a gigantic conspiracy; a gang of brutal, profit-seeking wretches raping Earth for their own immediate benefit. "He has accused the government of being riddled with them, the Assembly of being dominated by them, the press of being owned by them. None of this, unfortunately, seems ridiculous to the average man. He knows all too well what selfish men can do to Earth's resources. He knows what happened to Earth's oil during the Time of Troubles, for instance, and the way topsoil was ruined. "When a fanner experiences a drought, he doesn't care that the amount of water lost in space flight isn't a droplet in a fog as far as Earth's overall water supply is concerned. Hilder has given him something to blame and that's the strongest possible consolation for disaster. He isn't going to give that up for a diet of figures."

It seems an uncommonly woundabout and hopelessly wigmawolish method of getting anywheahs.

The reaction of one man could be forecast by no known mathematics; the reaction of a billion is something else again.