 What does the last line indicate about modern society, in general?
Illustrated by WOOD My agent was the one who got me the job of going along to write up the first trip to Mars. "It'll be the biggest break a writer ever got," he told me, two days before blastoff. If there are fights or accidents, they won't tell me about them." "It'll be just like the public going along vicariously. A you-are-there type of report? Trip time is supposed to take 260 days (that's one way), so we're aimed toward where Mars will be (had better be, or else). A pilot, co-pilot, navigator and biochemist. I've met all but the pilot (he's very busy today), and they seem friendly enough. Jones (that's the co-pilot; I didn't quite catch his first name) is scarlet-faced, barrel-chested and gives the general appearance of belonging under the spreading chestnut tree, not in a metal bullet flinging itself out into airless space. Come to think of it, who does belong where we are? He has a little cubicle behind the pilot's compartment, with all kinds of maps and rulers and things. He keeps bent low over a welded-to-the-wall (they call it the bulkhead, for some reason or other) table, scratching away with a ballpoint pen on the maps, and now and then calling numbers over a microphone to the pilot. So far, all he's said is, "Scram, I'm busy." Kroger tells me that the pilot's name is Patrick Desmond, but that I can call him Pat when I get to know him better. So far, he's still Captain Desmond to me. He was already on board when I got here, with my typewriter and ream of paper, so we didn't meet. The inertial gravities didn't bother me so much as the gyroscopic spin they put on the ship so we have a sort of artificial gravity to hold us against the curved floor. October 2, 1960 Feeling much better today. With my paper and his ballpoint pen and ruler, it should be easy. Jones (I still haven't learned his first name) has been up with the pilot all day. He passed my room on the way to the galley (the kitchen) for a cup of dark brown coffee (they like it thick) and told me that we were almost past the Moon. I asked to look, but he said not yet; the instrument panel is Top Secret.
 Humans in the modern age have been desensitized to crises
 Humans in the modern age have been desensitized to crises  Creating a solution sometimes requires people to return to the source from which the problem originated  Quality is just as, if not more important, than quantity when it comes to armed forces  The preference for intrigue over information has the potential to destroy a society