This is Chapter 17 of The Universal Good Deal, you may want to start at the beginning or go back to Chapter 16.

So it was quite natural for Barrow to command Welles to give him a building for the Association, and to grant him funding for a very large staff. Many Martians had quickly grown to hold Barrow in greater esteem than their own leaders; even Welles herself sought him, who promised access to the Aliens.¹ Barrow's course so far was to pretend that he could lead the Aliens to war or peace at his pleasure, and would oft threaten the Martians, sending Welles word in a private manner that the Aliens intended shortly to kill them, and that only the Association could work their peace.² Therefore, Welles complied; she caused a large and well-located building in the capital to be emptied, and allowed him to hire a staff without restrictions of any kind.

By this point in the Association’s history, its leadership structure had become difficult to understand, especially for outsiders, and in order that you will understand the following, rather violent interaction between its first and second secretaries, it is necessary that I relate some further details of Barrow and the Association. Prior to discovering the Association and being appointed second secretary, Barrow was an air traffic controller at a small airfield in Texas. Barrow came to this vocation because he believed firmly in the observance of rules and regulations as an integral part of democratic society.³ And because the position allowed him to implement these rules with pitiless force and to crush all noncompliance.⁴ As far as I can tell, the Martians regulated their flight so strictly because they were so awful at it. Barrow spent his days sitting in a small room on top of a tower waiting to inform approaching pilots of their proper routes and assigned order, remaining alert and vigilant even when there was no traffic for hours.

In a rare lapse of attention, Barrow noticed a small group of pilots sitting around card table in a hanger. He observed them furtively for some years. They met every month and had animated discussions. Barrow imagined that they were a trade group and that their discussions concerned the minutiae of their association's charter. Finally, on one of his regulation fifteen-minute afternoon breaks, he asked to join them.

Barrow was only the sixth member to join the Association, even though it had been in existence for more than ten years. He told himself that he was joining because it would help him be better at his job, but at heart, he yearned for the formalities—meeting minutes, propositions, seconds, votes, and secretaries, people in close proximity acting as though great distances existed between them. The bureaucratic flavor of the Association aroused Barrow.

The Association, however, was in decline. Only three other members attended Barrow's first monthly meeting. The meeting began when the first secretary, Ross, called it to order, and introduced Barrow as the newest member. They talked seriously about sporting games for the first half, and griped vehemently about aviation regulations for the second. Ross reminded all of them that they hadn't paid their dues, which seemed to be a great joke, and adjourned the meeting by slapping the card table with his hand. Barrow had found his religion.

Ross recognized his desperation, and offered him the position of second secretary, carefully emphasizing that it was unpaid. Barrow accepted; he had not started with any idea of profit.⁵ He began by making name tags and publishing agendas. He was the sort of man who was careful about type sizes.⁶ The casual regard with which the membership—including the first secretary—held the Association was a constant source of torment to Barrow.