"BUT listen!" he exclaimed. "I can't, if I want...."
"Of you can't." Pure in her eyes. "You're the Director. It wouldn't be proper. But it's Standard Operating Procedure for simple, innocent, little country girls like me to go for the boss."
"But you can't—you mustn't!" he in panic.
Temple Bells was of for the he had her. "I can't? Watch me!" She up at him, her still dancing. "Every I get, I'm going to your arm like I did a minute ago. And you'll take of my forearm, like you did! That can be taken, you see, as either: One, a of a but not situation, or: Two, a move to keep me from up you like a squirrel!"
"Confound it, Temple, you can't be serious!"
"Can't I?" She laughed gleefully. "Especially with a dozen of those other cats watching? Just wait and see, boss!"
Sandra and her two guests came aboard. The looked around; the man at the men, the woman at each of the women. The woman Sandra; the man took his place at Hilton's left, looking up—he was a of than Hilton's six one—with an air of ... of expectancy!
"Why this arrangement, Sandy?" Hilton asked.
"Because we're tops. It's your move, Jarve. What's first?"
"Uranexite. Come along, Sport. I'll call you that until ..."
"Laro," the native said, in a voice. He himself a on the that would have any two ordinary men. "Sora," he announced, the woman a blow.
"Laro and Sora, I would like to have you look at our uranexite, with the idea of our ship. Come with me, please?"
Both and him. In the engine room he pointed at the engines, then to the lead-blocked leading to the fuel holds. "Laro, do you 'hot'? Radioactive?"
Laro nodded—and started to open the lead door!
"Hey!" Hilton yelped. "That's hot!" He Laro's arm to him away—and got the of his life. Laro at least five hundred pounds! And the guy still looked human!
Laro again and gave himself a on the chest. Then he at Sora, who away from Sandra. He then into the and came out with two fuel in his hand, one of which he to Sora. That is, the motion looked like a toss, but the like a bullet. Sora it and the into their mouths. There was a minute of rock-crusher crunching; then opened their mouths.
The had been and swallowed.
Hilton's voice out. "Poynter! How can these people be non-radioactive after a whole fuel apiece?"
Poynter again. "Cold," he reported. "Stone cold. No even. Play that on your harmonica!"
LARO nodded, perfectly matter-of-factly, and in Hilton's mind there a picture. It was not clear, but it a long line of the Perseus. Each on his or her a lead two hundred of Navy Regulation fuel pellets. A loading-tube was sealed into place and every fuel-hold was filled.
This picture, Laro plainly, any time.
Sawtelle was and came on the run. "No fuel is without being tested!" he roared.
"Of not. But it'll pass, for all the tea in China. You haven't had a ten of fuel since you were launched. You can up or not—the fuel's here—just as you say."
"If they can make Navy standard, of we want it."
The fuel arrived. Every well above standard. Every fuel was to capacity, with no and no emanation. The who had the did not go away, but in the engine-room; and more and more in to see what was going on.
Sawtelle stiffened. "What's going on over there, Hilton?"
"I don't know; but let's let 'em go for a minute. I want to learn about these people and they've got me stopped cold."
"You aren't the only one. But if they that Mayfield it'll cost you over twenty thousand dollars."
"Okay." The captain and watched, wide eyed.
Two master had been to re-fit a tube—a job and skill. The was very and of superefract. The machine—the Mayfield—upon which the work was to be done, was complex.
Two of the had the mechanics—very gently—aside and were doing their work for them. Ignoring the hoist, one native had the up and was it in place on the Mayfield. The other, hands moving than the follow, was locking it—micrometrically and secure—into place.
"How about this?" one of the asked of his superior. "If we 'em out, how do we do it?"
By a of the head, the non-com passed the to a officer, who it up the line to Sawtelle, who said, "Hilton, nobody can a Mayfield without months of training. They'll it and it'll cost you ... but I'm myself. Enough so to take the damage. Let 'em go ahead."
"How about this, Mike?" one of the asked of his fellow. "I'm going to like this, what?"
"Ya-as, my Chumley," the other drawled, affectedly. "My man me of so much effort."
The had on working. The Mayfield was running. It had always and at its work, but now it gave out only a and hum. The had it with precision; they were one with it as no being possibly be. And every mind present that those were, at long, long last, their and were, in that fulfillment, happy. After of thousands of of time they were doing a job for their adored, their and MASTERS.
That was a shock; but it was by another.
"IAM sorry, Master Hilton," Laro's voice out, "that it has taken us so long to learn your Masters' language as it now is. Since you left us you have it radically; while we, of course, have not it at all."
"I'm sorry, but you're mistaken," Hilton said. "We are visitors. We have been here before; nor, as as we know, were any of our here."
"You need not test us, Master. We have your trust. Everything has been kept, the same, your return as you ordered so long ago."
"Can you read my mind?" Hilton demanded.
"Of course; but Omans can not read in Masters' minds anything what Masters want Omans to read."
"Omans?" Harkins asked. "Where did you Omans and your masters come from? Originally?"
"As you know, Master, the Masters came originally from Arth. They Ardu, where we Omans were developed. When the Stretts us from Ardu, we all came to Ardry, which was your home world until you left it in our care. We keep also this, your of the Fuel World, in trust for you."
"Listen, Jarve!" Harkins said, tensely. "Oman-human. Arth-Earth. Ardu-Earth Two. Ardry-Earth Three. You can't laugh them off ... but there was an Atlantis!"
"This is no fast. We need a full staff meeting. You, too, Sawtelle, and your best man. We need all the the Perseus can muster."
"You're right. But first, those out of here. It's enough, having at all, but this ... my men are spacemen, mister."
Laro spoke up. "If it is the Masters' to keep on us, so be it. We have nothing. A each Master, in which each will be by Omans who will know the Master's without being told. Every desire. While we Omans have no urges, we are of in and as much from that service as from any other."
Sawtelle the that followed. "Well, for the men—" He hesitated. "Especially on the ground ... well, talking in mixed company, you know, but I think ..."
"Think nothing of the mixed company, Captain Sawtelle," Sandra said. "We are scientists, not violets. We are to the of life just as as any other facts."
Sawtelle a thumb at Hilton, who him out into the corridor. "I have been a Navy mule," he said. "I admit now that I'm out-maneuvered, out-manned, and out-gunned."
"I'm just as baffled—at present—as you are, sir. But my has been at the unexpected, while yours has not."
"That's me easy, Jarve." Sawtelle smiled—the time the Hilton had that the hard, old smile. "What I wanted to say is, lead on. I'll you through force-field and space-warps."
"Thanks, skipper. And by the way, I that record yesterday." The two hands; and there came into being a relationship that was to a friendship.
"WE will start for Ardry immediately," Hilton said. "How do we make that jump without charts, Laro?"
"Very easily, Master. Kedo, as Master Captain Sawtelle's Oman, will give the orders. Nito will Master Snowden and supply the knowledge he says he has forgotten."
"Okay. We'll go up to the room and started."
And in the room, Kedo's voice into the captain's microphone. "Attention, all personnel! Master Captain Sawtelle orders take-off in two minutes. The will at five seconds.... Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Lift!"
Nito, not Snowden, the controls. As perfectly as the pilot had done it, at the top of his form, he the up and it into subspace.
"Well, I'll be a ..." Snowden gasped. "That's a job than I did!"
"Not at all, Master, as you know," Nito said. "It was you who did this. I performed the labor."
A minutes later, in the main lounge, Navy and BuSci were as they had done before. Whatever had this of tension—the of captain and director? The position in which they all were? Or what?—they all to with each other.
"Silence, please, and be seated," Hilton said. "While this is not a meeting, it will be recorded for reference. First, I will ask Laro a question. Were books or records left on Ardry by the you call the Masters?"
"You know there are, Master. They are as you left them. Undisturbed for over two hundred seventy-one thousand years."
"Therefore we will not question the Omans. We do not know what questions to ask. We have many impossible. Hence, we must all opinions which with facts. I will mention a of the problems we face."
"The Omans. The Masters. The of the of the Perseus to Oman standards. The of uranexite. What is that concentrate? How is it used? Total conversion—how is it accomplished? The skeletons—what are they and how are they controlled? Their ability to power. Who or what is of them? Why a that has over a of a years? How much are we and the Perseus actually in? How much is Terra in, of our presence here? There are many other questions."
"Sandra and I will not take part. Nor will three others; de Vaux, Eisenstein, and Blake. You have more work to do."
"What can that be?" asked Rebecca. "Of what possible use can a mathematician, a and a be in such a as this?"
"You can think powerfully in terms, by Terran and laws which we now know are neither laws. I cannot the problems we face. Perhaps you three will be able to. You will listen, then consult, then tell me how to the to do the work. A more job for you is this: Any problem, to be solved, must be clearly; and we don't know what our problem is. I want something by the use of which I can this thing open. Get it for me."
REBECCA and de Vaux and nodded, but Teddy Blake said happily, "I was to like a wheel on this project, but that's something I can my teeth into."
"Huh? How?" Karns demanded. "He didn't give you one single thing to go on; just the confusion."
Hilton spoke Teddy could. "That's their dish, Bill. If I had any data I'd work it myself. You first, Captain Sawtelle."
That was a very long one indeed. There were almost as many and as there were speakers. And through it all Hilton and Sandra listened. They and and and notes; in and in the more of logic. And at its end:
"I'm just about pooped, Sandy. How about you?"
"You and me both, boss. See you in the morning."
But she didn't. It was four o'clock in the when they met again.
"We up one of the teams, Sandy," he said, with diffidence. "I know we were going to do it together, but I got a on the team. A of a weirdie, but the me on it." He a card on her desk. "Don't your top until after I you've it."
"Why, I won't, of course...." Her voice died away. "Maybe you'd that 'of course'...." She studied, and when she spoke again she was self-control. "A chemist, a planetographer, a theoretician, two sociologists, a and a radiationist. And six of the seven are three of sweeties. What of a line-up is that to solve a problem in physics?"
"It isn't in any we know. I said think!"
"Oh," she said, then again "Oh," and "Oh," and "Oh." Four different tones. "I see ... maybe. You're minds, not specialties; and supplementing?"
"I you were smart. Buy it?"
"It's weird, all right, but I'll it—for a trial run, anyway. But I'd like to have to sell any part of it to the Board.... But of we're—I you're only to yourself."
"Keep it 'we', Sandy. You're as to this project as I am. But we the second team, what's your on Bernadine and Hermione? Separate or together?"
"Separate, I'd say. They're physically, and so nearly so that of them would be just as good on a team as of them. More and work on different teams."
"My exactly." And so it went, hour after hour.
The were and were held.
THE Perseus Ardry, which was very much like Terra. There were continents, oceans, ice-caps, lakes, rivers, and plains, and prairies. The ship on the of Omlu, the City of the Masters, and Sawtelle called Hilton into his cabin. The Omans Laro and Kedo along, of course.
"Nobody how it ..." Sawtelle began.
"No around here," Hilton grinned. "Omans, you know."
"I so. Anyway, every man is all up about aground—especially with a harem. But I liberty, there's any VD around here that our can't handle?"
"As you know, Masters," Laro for Hilton the open his mouth, "no disease, or other, is allowed to on Ardry. No is either necessary or desirable."
"That ought to you for a while, Skipper." Hilton at the captain and to the lounge.
"Everybody going ashore?" he asked.
"Yes." Karns said. "Unanimous vote for the time."
"Who wouldn't?" Sandra asked. "I'm up with like a sardine. I will for the minute I into a room."
"Cars" were waiting, in a stopping-and-starting line. Three-wheel jobs. All were empty. No drivers, no steering-wheels, no or push-buttons. When the whole line moved ahead as one vehicle there was no noise, no gas, no blast.
An Oman helped a Master into the seat of his car, into the seat and the car away. The whole line of empty cars, acting in perfect synchronization, one space and stopped.
"This is your car, Master," Laro said, and a production out of Hilton into the vehicle undamaged.
Hilton's plan had been simple. All the were to meet at the Hall of Records. The and their Omans would study the records and pass them out. Specialty after would be and would work on them. He and Sandy would in the office and and and correlate. It was a very plan.
It was a very office, too. It every item of that either Sandra or Hilton had with—it was a big office—and a great many that neither of them had of. It had a full staff of Omans, all to work.
Hilton and Sandra sat in that office for three hours, and no reports came in. Nothing at all.
"This me the howpers!" Hilton growled. "Why haven't I got to be on one of those teams?"
"I a tear for you, you big dope, but I won't," Sandra retorted. "What do you want to be, the brain and the and the balance-wheel and the spark-plug of the outfit? Do you want to do yourself?"
"Well, I don't want to go nuts, and that's all I'm doing at the moment!" The might have acrimonious, but it was by a call from Karns.
"Can you come out here, Jarve? We've a knot."
"'Smatter? Trouble with the Omans?" Hilton snapped.
"Not exactly. Just non-cooperation—squared. We can't started. I'd like to have you two come out here and see if you can do anything. I'm not trying stuff, I know it wouldn't work."
"Coming up, Bill," and Hilton and Sandra, by Laro and Sora, out to their cars.
THE Hall of Records was a long, wide, low, windowless, very structure, of a metal that looked like steel. Kept polished, the of and metal was mirror-bright. The one great door was open, and just it were the scientists and their Omans.
"Brief me, Bill," Hilton said.
"No lights. They won't turn 'em on and we can't. Can't either lights or any possible of switches."
"Turn on the lights, Laro," Hilton said.
"You know that I cannot do that, Master. It is for any Oman to have anything to do with the of this and place."
"Then me how to do it."
"That would be just as bad, Master," the Oman said proudly. "I will not fail any test you can devise!"
"Okay. All you Omans go to the ship and over fifteen or twenty lights—the jobs. Scat!"
They "scatted" and Hilton on, "No use questions if you don't know what questions to ask. Let's see if we can cook up something. Lane—Kathy—what has Biology got to say?"
Dr. Lane Saunders and Dr. Kathryn Cook—the a brown-eyed blonde—conferred briefly. Then Saunders spoke, hands through his of red hair. "So far, the best we can do is a more-or-less guess. They're atomic-powered, total-conversion androids. Their pseudo-flesh is mainly of and fluorine. We don't know the yet, but it is as much more than our as is than corn-meal mush. As to the brains, no data. Bones are super-stainless steel. Teeth, than diamond, but won't break. Food, or its derivative, interchangeably. Storage reserve, indefinite. Laro and Sora won't have to eat again for at least twenty-five years...."
The group as one, but Saunders on: "They can eat and drink and breathe and so on, but only the original Masters wanted them to. Non-functional. Skins and are soft, for the same reason. That's about it, up to now."
"Thanks, Lane. Hark, is it to that any for a of a years without one word of its language or one of its behavior?"
"Reasonable or not, it to have happened."
"Now for Psychology. Alex?"
"It incredible, but it to be true. If it is, their minds were to a no Terran has imagined—an fixation."
"They can't be swayed, then, by or logic?" Hilton paused invitingly.
"Or anything else," Kincaid said, flatly. "If we're right they can't be swayed, period."
"I was of that. Well, that's all the questions I know how to ask. Any to this symposium?"
AFTER a de Vaux said, "I you that the of the problem you us has now solved itself?"
"Why, no. No, you're 'way ahead of me."
"There is a problem and it can now be stated," Rebecca said. "Problem: To a method of full from the Omans. The step in the of this problem is to the most operator. Teddy?"
"I have an operator—of sorts," Theodora said. "I've been one of us a better."
"What is it?" Hilton demanded.
"The word 'until'."
"Teddy, you're a sweetheart!" Hilton exclaimed.
"How can 'until' be a mathematical operator?" Sandra asked.
"Easily." Hilton was already in thought. "This hard was to last only until the Masters returned. Then they'd it. So all we have to do is out how a Master would do it."
"That's all," Kincaid said, meaningly.
Hilton pondered. Then, "Listen, all of you. I may have to try a job of bluffing...."
"Just what would you call 'colossal' after what you did to the Navy?" Karns asked.
"That was a sure thing. This isn't. You see, to out Laro is an object, I've got to make like an force, which I ain't. I don't know what I'm going to do; I'll have to roll it as I go along. So all of you keep on your and any play I make. Here they come."
The Omans came in and Hilton Laro, to eyes. "Laro," he said, "you to my direct order. Your to be that, the Masters wish it or not, you Omans will any in the all time to come. In other words, you the that Masters are in your Masters."
"But that is not it, Master. The Masters ..."
"That is it. Exactly it. Either you are the Master here or you are not. That is a point to which your two-value logic can be applied. You are the word 'until'. This was to only until the Masters returned. Are we Masters? Have we returned? Note well: Upon that one word 'until' may the length of time your Oman will continue to exist."
The Omans flinched; the gasped.
"But more of that later," Hilton on, unmoved. "Your Masters, being short-lived like us, with time, did they not? And you with them?"
"But we did not ourselves, Master. The Masters ..."
"You did yourselves. The Masters only the brain. They ordered you to yourselves and you their orders. We order you to and you to our orders. We have from our ancestors. Right?"
"That is right, Master."
"We are physically, more and more mentally, with a keener, on life?"
"You are, Master."
"THAT is our to do without Omans. We do our own work and it. Your Masters died of and boredom. What I would like to do, Laro, is take you to the and put your brain into the matrix. However, the is not mine alone to make. How about it, and girls? Would you have who won't do anything you tell them to or no at all?"
"As semantician, I protest!" Sandra his play. "That is the most question I heard—it can't be answered in the way!"
"Okay, I'll make it sound. I think we'd this whole Oman and start over and I want a vote that way!"
"You won't it!" and to yell.
Hilton order and on Laro, his stiff, and reserved. "Since it is clear that no is to be at this time I will take no action at this time. Think over, very carefully, what I have said, for as as I am concerned, this world has no place for Omans who will not orders. As soon as I my staff of the fact, I shall act as follows: I shall give you an order and if you do not it blast your to a cinder. I shall then give the same order to another Oman and blast him. This will continue until: First, I an Oman. Second, I out of blasters. Third, the out of Omans. Now take these lights into the room of records—that one over there." He pointed, and no Oman, and only four humans, that he had the Omans their so that he point it out to them!
Inside the room Hilton asked of Laro: "The Masters didn't those themselves, did they?"
"Oh, no, Master, we did that."
"Do it, then. Number One ... yes, that one ... open it and start playing the records in order."
The records were not or or reels, but were of intricately-braided wire. The players were of full-color, hi-fi sound, tri-di pictures.
Hilton all moves and orders that no Oman was to be allowed ship, then looked and with his staff.
The only and stuff; but it was so that the to it. Then they to the ship; and in the main Hilton onto a davenport. He took out a cigarette and in at his hand, which was shaking.
"I think I use a drink," he remarked.
"What, supper?" Karns marveled. Then, "Hey, Wally! Rush a of avignognac—Arnaud Freres—for the and else for the of us. Chop-chop but quick!"
A half-hour followed. Then, "Okay, boys and girls, I love you, too, but let's cut out the and sloosh, some supper and us some time. I'm just about pooped. Sorry I had to the private-residence deal, Sandy, you little sardine. But you know how it is."
Sandra grimaced. "Uh-huh. I can take it a while longer if you can."
AFTER next morning, the staff met in the lounge. As usual, Hilton and Sandra were the to arrive.
"Hi, boss," she him. "How do you feel?"
"Fine. I a and give her the two scratches. I was a up last night, though."
"I'll say ... but what I can't over is the way you the climax. 'Third, the out of Omans'. Just like that—no at all. Wow! It had the impact of a delayed-action bomb. It put goose-bumps all over me. But just s'pose they'd missed it?"
"No fear. They're smart. I had to play it as though the whole Oman is no more than a cigarette butt. The great big question, though, is I put it across or not."
At that point a dozen people came in, all talking about the same subject.
"Hi, Jarve," Karns said. "I still say you ought to take up as a life work. Tiny, let's you and him now and play a hands."
"Mais non!" de Vaux his violently, his and arms wide. "By the name of a small cabbage, not me!"
Karns laughed. "How did you have the to so many as facts? If you'd just once—"
"I didn't." Hilton grinned. "Think back, Bill. The only thing I said as a was that we as a are than the Masters were, and that is obvious. Everything else was implication, logic, and bluff."
"That's right, at that. And they were and decadent. No question about that."
"But listen, boss." This was Stella Wing. "About this mind-reading business. If Laro read your mind, he'd know you were and ... Oh, that 'Omans can read only what Masters wish Omans to read', eh? But d'you think that to us?"
"I'm sure it does, and I was some thoughts. And I want to all of you: you're near any Oman, start that you're to agree with me that they're to us, and let them know it. Now out on the job, all of you. Scat!"
"Just a minute," Poynter said. "We're going to have to keep on using the Omans and their cars, aren't we?"
"Of course. Just be and distant. They're on probation—we haven't yet what to do about them. Since that to be true, it'll be easy."
HILTON and Sandra to their office. There wasn't room to the floor, but Hilton to it anyway.
"Now don't say again that you want to do something," Sandra said, brightly. "Look what when you said that yesterday."
"I've got a job, but I don't know to do it. The creche—there's only one on the planet. So I want you to help me think. The Masters were very to radiation. Right?"
"Right. That city on Fuel Bin was to zero, just in case some Master wanted to visit it."
"And the Masters had to work in the anything new had to be put into the brain."
"I'd say so, yes."
"So they had armor. Probably as much than our as the of their is. Now. Did they or did they not have screens?"
"Ouch! You think of the things, chief." She her lip her teeth and concentrated. "... I don't know. There are at least fifty vectors, all pointing in different directions."
"I know it. The key one in my opinion is that the Masters gave 'em and speech."
"I that and it. Even so, the is only about point sixty-five. Can you take that much of a chance?"
"Yes. I can make one or two mistakes. Next, about that creche. Any spot of on the would be it, but the search might take ..."
"Hold on. They'd have it shielded—there'll be no at all. Laro will have to take you."
"That's right. Want to come along? Nothing much will here today."
"Uh-uh, not me." Sandra in distaste. "I want to see and and around in if I can help it."
"Okay. It's all yours. I'll be sometime," and Hilton out onto the dock, where the Laro was waiting for him.
"Hi, Laro. Get the car and take me to the Hall of Records." The up and to obey.
At the Hall, Hilton's was to see how the work was going on. Eight of the rooms were now open and lighted—operating the had been one of the on the of instructions—with a cold, pure-white, light.
EVERY team had its and was on it. Some of them were doing nicely, but the First Team not started. Its record would a of an and stop; while Omans and out other records and other in an attempt to some that not be into any or to Terran science. At the moment there were seventeen of those peculiar—projectors? Viewers? Playbacks—in use, and all of them were stopped.
"You know what we've got to do Jarve?" Karns, the team captain, exploded. "Go to being college freshmen—or maybe or kindergarten, we don't know yet—and learn a whole new of we can to touch this stuff!"
"And you're about that?" Hilton marveled. "I wish I join you. That'd be fun." Then, as Karns started a rejoinder—
"But I got of my own," he added hastily. "'Bye, now," and a rejoinder—
Out in the again, Hilton took his chance. After all, the were about two to one that he would win.
"I want a of things, Laro. First, a screen."
He won!
"Very well, Master. They are in a room, Department Four Six Nine. Will you wait here on this bench, Master?"
"No, we don't like to too much. I'll go with you." Then, walking along, he on thoughtfully. "I've been since last night, Laro. There are in having Omans ..."
"I am very you think so, Master. I want to you. It is my need."
"... if they be from us to death. Thus, if our had their Omans, I would have all about life on this world and about this Hall of Records, of having the fragmentary, confusing, and sometimes false I now have ... oh, we're here?"
LARO had stopped and was opening a door. He aside. Hilton in, touched with one a set into a wall, gave a command, and the lights on.
Laro opened a cabinet and took out a about the size of a dime, from a neck-chain. While Hilton had not what to expect, he had not anything as as that. Nevertheless, he his and his as Laro the thing around his and the to a fit.
"Thanks, Laro." Hilton it and put it into his pocket. "It won't work from there, will it?"
"No, Master. To function, it must be eighteen of the brain. The second thing, Master?"
"A radiation-proof suit. Then you will take me to the creche."
The almost missed a step, but said nothing.
The radiation-proof suit—how Hilton was that he had not called it "armor"!—was as much of a as the thought-screen had been. It was a coverall, of something that looked like thin plastic, less than one pound. It had one sealed box, about the size and weight of a cigarette case. No or be seen. Air entered through two filters, one at each heel, upward—for no at all that Hilton see—and out through a above the top of his head. The neither clung, but out, out of the way, all by itself.
Hilton, just barely, the suit, too, without surprise.
The creche, it out, while not in the city of Omlu itself, was not too out to easily by car.
En route, Laro said—stiffly? Tentatively? Hilton not fit an to the tone—"Master, have you then to me? That is of your right."
"Not this time, at least." Laro an of and Hilton on: "I don't want to you at all, and won't, unless I have to. But, some way or other, my silicon-fluoride friend, you are either going to learn how to or you won't last much longer."
"But, Master, that is ..."
"Oh, hell! Do we have to go over that again?" At the of in Hilton's mind Laro away. "If you can't talk keep still."
IN an hour the car stopped in of a small which looked something like a kiosk—except for the door, which, of steel-reinforced lead, on a piano having a pin a good eight in diameter. Laro opened that door. They in. As the portal shut, lights on.
Hilton at his tell-tales, one inside, one outside, his suit. Both zero.
Down twenty steps, another door. Twenty more; another. And a fourth. Hilton's still read zero. The one was to climb.
Into an and for what must have been four or five hundred feet. Another door. Hilton through this final gingerly, to his gauges. The was high in the red, almost against the pin, but the one still sat on zero.
He at the android. "How can any possible brain take so much of this without damage?"
"It not the brain, Master. We it. Each minute of this is what you would call a 'good, square meal'."
"I see ... dimly. You can eat energy, or drink it, or it up through your skins. However it comes, it's all for you."
"Yes, Master."
Hilton ahead, toward the end of the long, narrow, room. It was, purely and simply, an line; and in operation.
"You are the Omans in the with the skeletons?"
"Yes, Master."
Hilton the of the line at a fast walk. He was not particularly in the of super-stainless-steel skeletons, in the and of engines, and so on.
He was more in the fluoro-silicon flesh, and paused long to a idea of its and application. He was very much in how such human-looking skin act as and converter, but he see nothing helpful.
"An application, I suppose, of the same used in this suit."
"Yes, Master."
AT the end of the line he stopped. A brain, in place and to millions of wire nerves, but not yet by a skull, was being educated. Scanners—multitudes of machines—most of them were doing nothing, apparently; but such would have to be invisibly, fine. But a brain, in such a as this....
He looked at his gauges. Both read zero.
"Fields of force, Master," Laro said.
"But, it, this itself would re-radiate ..."
"The is self-decontaminating, Master."
Hilton was appalled. "With such as that, and the plastic besides, why all the and all that solid lead?"
"The Masters' orders, Master. Machines can, and occasionally do, fail. So might, conceivably, the plastic."
"And that over there the original brain, from which all the copies are made."
"Yes, Master. We call it the 'Guide'."
"And you can't touch the Guide. Not if it means total destruction, none of you can touch it."
"That is the case, Master."
"Okay. Back to the car and to the Perseus."
At the car Hilton took off the and the thought-screen around his neck; and in the car, for twenty five solid minutes, he sat still and thought.
His had worked, up to a point. A good, point, but not enough. Laro had stopped that "as you already know" stuff. He was to go as in as he possibly ... but he couldn't go but there had to be a way....
Hilton way after way. Way after unworkable, way. Until he out one that might—just possibly might—work.
"Laro, I know that you and from me—in doing what I ought to be doing myself. But has it to you that that's a of a way to a first-class, brain? To waste it on second-hand, copycat, carbon-copy stuff?"
"Why, no, Master, it did. Besides, anything else would be ... or would it?"
"Stop somewhere. Park this heap. We're too close to the ship; and besides, I want your full, undivided, attention. No, I don't think originality was forbidden. It would have been, of course, if the Masters had of it, but neither they you the possibility of such a thing. Right?"
"It may be.... Yes, Master, you are right."
"Okay." Hilton took off his necklace, the to drive home the and of his thought. "Now, that you are not my and station. Instead, we are fellow-students, together upon problems too difficult for either of us to solve alone. Our minds, while independent, are or in mesh. Each is helping and the other. Both are at full power and under free at the of brand-new of thought—vistas and which neither of us has ..."
"Stop, Master, stop!" Laro ears with his hands and his mind away from Hilton's. "You are me!"
"That is a to all at once," Hilton agreed. "To help you used to it, stop calling me 'Master'. That's an order. You may call me Jarve or Jarvis or Hilton or whatever, but no more Master."
"Very well, sir."
HILTON laughed and himself on the knee. "Okay, I'll let you away with that—at least for a while. And to away from that 'o' on your name, I'll call you 'Larry'. You like?"
"I would like that ... sir."
"Keep trying, Larry, you'll make it yet!" Hilton and the a on the knee. "Home, James!"
The car and Hilton on: "I don't your brain to the full value of this in any space of time. So let it in its own juice for a week or two." The car out onto the and stopped. "So long, Larry."
"But ... can't I come in with you ... sir?"
"No. You aren't a or a or a any longer. You're a free-wheeling, wide-swinging, hard-hitting, entity—monarch of all you survey—captain of your and so on. I want you to the of the to that until you it thoroughly. Until you have a top-bracket of top-bracket stuff—originality, initiative, force, drive, and thrust. As soon as you it, you'll do something about it yourself, without being told. Go to it, chum."
In the ship, Hilton directly to Kincaid's office. "Alex, I want to ask you a thing that's got a on it." Then, slowly and hesitantly: "It's about Temple Bells. Has she ... is she ... well, she you in any way of an iceberg?" Then, as the to smile; "And no, it, I don't physically!"
"I know you don't." Kincaid's was rueful, not at all what Hilton had it was going to be. "She does. Would it be helpful to know that I asked, then ordered her to places with me?"
"It would, very. I know why she refused. You're a good man, Alex."
"Thanks, Jarve. To answer the question you were going to ask next—no, I will not be at all or put out if you put her onto a job that some people might think should have been mine. What's the job, and when?"
"That's the of it—I don't know." Hilton Kincaid up to date. "So you see, it'll have to develop, and God only what line it will take. My is that Temple and I should a Committee of Two to watch it develop."
"That one I'll buy, and I'll look on with glee."
"Thanks, fellow." Hilton to his office, his big up onto his desk, settled onto his spine, and himself in thought.
Hours later he got up, shrugged, and to without to eat.
Days passed.
And weeks.
