weekly evening of cards. Poker until deep into the night. 
Violently, Nilsson shook his head. 
   "You don't need to wait for me, Tom. I'm not coming. 
Not today, nor any time in the future."
   The technician didn't understand a word. "What are 
you talking about Leroy?" he said in surprise. "You don't 
want to play with us anymore? You, of all people, the 
most passionate Poker player of the entire base?" 
   "Perhaps I was that", Nilsson stated in reply. 
"However, I'm not that anymore. I've been thinking Tom. 
Cards are the work of the devil. Humans should avoid it 
like the plague. Also, you should think about this 
yourself, and make up your mind whether this blasphemous 
waste of time is worthwhile in the short amount of time 
which remains for us all." 
   Tom Stills eyes grew large. "Leroy, what are you 
saying this for?" 
   "Go seek thyself, Tom", said Nilsson. Then he broke 
the connection. 
   He dedicated himself again to the Bible. For a short 
time he fingered a Syntho-cigarette. When he became 
conscious of it, he wanted to light it even, which he then 
did. Disgusted, he hurled the cigarette from himself. He 
jumped up and stomped the weed with his heel. Then he 
tore the cigarette case from his pocket and hurried to 
the flap of the garbage chute. 
   >Garbage chute< was only a popular designation. 
In reality there was no garbage in the actual sense, no 
waste product in the Moonbase. Everything, that was no 
longer needed or was discarded, went directly into the 
recycling system, was divided into its constituents and 
reprocessed. The Alphan's could not afford to let their 
irreplaceable raw materials be lost. A cycle had to be 
maintained.  

10