“Christ, you don’t want that. They’re just this same crap without the yellow cabs and the jazz in the Village—the same big-city grapple plus a doggy little yard out back and an hour on the train twice a day. Just as expensive, when you add it all up. More expensive, if you count the spiritual cost: they suck you into maintaining false pretenses, into being nice neighbors, for Chrissake. Feed the cookie cutter—spare me. Spare us all. Listen, I don’t know Phyl all that well, but my impression is she doesn’t give a fuck for the standard rat race. She’s a free spirit, my judgment is. She needs to hold her head high; she needs to get out of those roachy apartments with those kids. And as to you, ask yourself this: how much do you want to be flow-charting airline reservations for Tommy Watson Junior for the rest of your life?”

“IBM is good to us, Ed. Last year I made three times what my father did in his best year, and that was during the war, with moonlighting.”

“O., I guess you are from the sticks. You think small.”

“You sound like Phyllis.” Owen had to laugh, being pressed this hard, this ardently. “But she loves the city. We both do.”

Ed smiled, baring his big teeth, sensing the new mood. It was a downhill, tickle-me-harder mood. “Yeah? What do you like about it?”

“The museums. The concerts. The restaurants.”

“How often do you get to them?”

“Almost never. Babysitters are a problem. And we’re always bushed.”

“Well, then. There’s millions out there, O. Big bucks for the picking, for those who show a little initiative. A little imagination. Think, isn’t that what they keep telling us? Think outside the lines.”

“Ed, please. We don’t have the millions yet. It costs money to set up a company. How do we program if we can’t afford a computer?”

This question pleased Ed; he had given it thought. “You don’t need one, you can use the client’s machine or rent time from a service bureau. All you really need is a coding pad and a pencil: that’s according to a guy I know, who used to be with scientific programming right here at IBM. Now he’s with CUC, that’s Computer Usage Company, downtown. They began in a guy’s apartment with pure zilch five years ago and just went public, for a net of a hundred eighty-six grand. They bought their own computer. Electronic data management, that’s the name of the game. Who needs sex when you can have software?”