 What can you infer about the industry in Arapoulous' homeland?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1962. "When I first came here, the Manpower Utilization Directorate, Division of Libraries and Education was a shambles. "The Bogans have launched no less than four military campaigns in the last two decades. That's an industrial world of the poor but honest variety." "Our function is merely to bring them together. The wine crop is just about ready. In between, the vines don't need a lot of attention, so our time's mostly our own. "It sounds like it, Mr. Arapoulous. Blue-black sky, stars visible all day. Lots of skiing, bob-sledding, ice skating; and it's the season for woodworkers. Our furniture—" "I've seen some of your furniture," Retief said. Lots of metals in our soil and those sulphates give the woods some color, I'll tell you. Fruit, grain, that kind of thing; getting it in doesn't take long. Arapoulous puffed on his cigar, looked worriedly at Retief. "Our wine crop is our big money crop," he said. Course, I'm only twenty-eight; I can't remember but two other harvests. Arapoulous put his bundle on the desk, pulled off the wrappings. Arapoulous pulled the wire retainer loose, thumbed the cork. It tastes like salted pecans, with an undercurrent of crusted port." "Don't try to describe it, Mr. Retief," Arapoulous said. "We've got plenty of minerals on Lovenbroy," Arapoulous said, swallowing wine. "But we don't plan to wreck the landscape mining 'em. They figured they knew better what to do with our minerals than we did. Had to start exporting art work too. Picking Bacchus grapes isn't a job you can turn over to machinery—and anyway we wouldn't if we could. There's prizes for the biggest day's output, bets on who can fill the most baskets in an hour.... The sun's high and bright, and it's just cool enough to give you plenty of energy. Come nightfall, the tables are set up in the garden plots, and the feast is laid on: roast turkeys, beef, hams, all kinds of fowl. Fresh-baked bread ... and wine, plenty of wine. The cooking's done by a different crew each night in each garden, and there's prizes for the best crews. Matter of fact, pretty near half our young-uns are born after a vintage.
 It is an agricultural industry, deriving its profit from the land.
 It is an agricultural industry, deriving its profit from the land.  It is a small industry, deriving just enough profit for everyone to sustain themselves.  It is a highly advanced industry, deriving its profit from mechanization.  It is a technological industry, deriving its profit from intelligence.