 What lesson did Brian learn from his experience?
And once it grows, someone with a tyrant mind is going to try to use it as a weapon if he can— [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science-Fiction April 1942. Brian Hanson looked disgustedly at Pete Brent, his lanky assistant. "Get your notes straightened up. He strode out of the huge laboratory, but his mind was still on the vitamin research they had been conducting, he barely heard the remarks that followed him. Brian Hanson wondered dispassionately for a moment how his assistants could fail to be as absorbed as he was by the work they were doing, then he let it go as he stepped outside the research building. Out here, alone, he let his only known emotion sweep through him, pride. True, there had been others, pioneers, before the company came, who objected to the expansion of the monopolistic control. But, if they could not realize that the company's regime served the best interests of the planet, they would just have to suffer the consequences of their own ignorance. Anything involving executions had to be referred to the Interplanetary Council on Earth. He dismissed the whole business as he did everything else that did not directly influence his own department. This walk was part of a regular routine of physical exercise that kept his body hard and resilient in spite of long hours spent in the laboratory. He was making that walk in precisely seven minutes, four and four-fifths seconds. He swore some more and grabbed a towel, wrapping it inadequately around him; it didn't quite meet astern. He paddled wetly across the floor sounding like a flock of ducks on parade. Through the open door of his bedroom he could see his bed neatly turned down as it should be, but the outline under the counterpane and the luxuriant mass of platinum-blond hair on the pillow was certainly no part of his regular routine. Pete Brent's joking words flashed back to him. I don't see anything funny, unless it's you and that suggestive towel. Brian slowly acquired a complexion suitable for painting fire plugs. He struggled out of the bath, wrapped his damp bathrobe clammily around him and marched to the door with a seething fury of righteous anger burning within him. "Wherethehell's who?" "Quit stallin', bud. That was just ... "She ... why ... why ... she left, of course. Brian Hanson, Chief of Research for Venus Consolidated, as dignified as possible in a damp bathrobe, glared out through the bars at a slightly bewildered Pete Brent.
 That the Venus Consolidated police weren’t honest.
 That Serono Zeburzac was a rebel insider.  That Venus Consolidated served the best interests of the planet.  That the Venus Consolidated police weren’t honest.  That the rebels built mines as escape routes from the police.