"Up to that time the best wordage was something like eight hundred words," said Burbank. "I think that you have been resting too long on your laurels. Unless you can bring me something big enough to advertise, I shall have to take measures.
"Now you, Mr. Warren," continued Burbank. "You are the man who is supposed to be superintendent of maintenance. May I ask why the outer hull is not painted?"
"Because it would be a waste of paint," said Warren. "Figure out the acreage of a surface of a cylinder three miles long and a mile in diameter. It is almost eleven square miles! Eleven square miles to paint from scaffolding hung from the outside itself."
"Use bos'ns' chairs," snapped Burbank.
"A bos'n's chair would be worthless," Warren informed Burbank. "You must remember that to anyone trying to operate on the outer hull, the outer hull is a ceiling and directly overhead.
"Another thing," said Warren, "you paint that hull and you'll run this station by yourself. Why d'ye think we have it shiny?"
"If we paint the hull," persisted Burbank, "it will be more presentable than that nondescript steel color."
"That steel color is as shiny as we could make it," growled Warren. "We want to get rid of as much radiated heat as we can. You slap a coat of any kind of paint on that hull and you'll have plenty of heat in here."
"Ah, that sounds interesting. We'll save heating costs—"
"You idiot," snapped Warren. "You fool. Sure we'll have heat in here. We'll save some heating costs. But do you realize that we'd have no opportunity to control it? We're on a safe margin now. We radiate just a little more than we receive. We make up the rest by artificial heating. But there have been occasions when it became necessary to dissipate a lot of energy in here for one reason or another, and then we've had to shut off the fires. What would happen if we couldn't cool the damned coffee can? We'd roast the first time that we got a new employee with a body temperature a half degree above normal!"