Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from Amazing Science Fiction Stories April 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyrighton this publication was renewed. 

 _The little man stood in front of the monstrous machine as the synaptic drone heightened to a scream. No . .. No, he whispered. Don't you understand. .. . _

 WE'RE FRIENDS, NOW

 By HENRY HASSE

 ILLUSTRATED by VARGA

 * * * * *

Today more than other days Raoul Beardsley felt the burden, the draggingsense of inevitability. He frowned; he glanced at his watch; he leanedforward to speak to the copter pilot and then changed his mind. Hesettled back, and from idle habit adjusted his chair-scope to thefamiliar broad-spoked area of Washington just below. 

"I'll _not_ have it happening again today!" he told himself grimly . .. And at once his thoughts quavered off into many tangles ofself-reproach. "Blasted nonsense the way I've been acting. A _machine_, a damned gutless machine like that! Why do I persist in letting it getto me?"

He pondered that and found no solace. "Delusion, " he snorted. "Hypersynapse-disorder . .. That's how Jeff Arnold would explain _me_. I wishhe'd confine his diagnostics to the Mechanical Division where itbelongs! He's amused, they're all amused at me--but damn it they justdon't know!"

Beardsley's rotund body sagged at the thought. Adjusting thechair-scope, he fixed his gaze on the broad facade of Crime-CentralBuilding far across the city; again he felt the burgeoning embarrassmentand foreboding, but he put it down with an effort before it reached theedge of fear. _Not today_, he thought fiercely. _No, by God, I justwon't permit it to happen. _

There. So! He felt much better already. And he had really made good timethis morning. Today of _all_ days he mustn't keep ECAIAC waiting. 

[Illustration: Beardsley was the only one _not_ to panic when theinfallible machine broke down. ]

Mustn't. .. . Something triggered in Beardsley, and he was assailed with aperverse rebellion at the thought. 

 * * * * *

Must not? But why not? Why shouldn't he just _once_ keep ECAIAC and JeffArnold and his clique stewing in their own tangle of tubes andelectronic juice? And wouldn't _this_, he gloated, be the perfect dayfor it! Arnold especially--just once to shatter that young man'scomplacent routine. .. . 

No. Beardsley savored the thought tastily, and let it trickle away, andthe look of glee on his cherubic face was gone. For too many years hisjob as serological "coördinator" (Crime-Central) had kept him pinned tothe concomitant routine. Pinned or crucified, it was all the same; incrime analysis as in everything these days, personal sense ofachievement had been too unsubtly annihilated. Recalling his justcompleted task--the Citizen Files and _persona-tapes_ and the endlessannotating--Beardsley felt himself sinking still further into that mireof futility that encompassed neither excitement nor particular pride. 

He brought himself back with a grimace, aware that he was clutching thebriefcase of tapes possessively from long habit. The pilot had touchedthe news-stat, and abruptly one of the new "commerciappeals" grated onBeardsley's senses:

". .. We repeat, yes, PROT-O-SUDS is now available in _flake_ or _cake_ orthe new attachable _luxury-spray_. Remember, PROT-O-SUDS has _never_ beenlaboratory-tested, it contains _no_ miracle ingredients, _no_ improvedscientific formula, and NO LANOLIN. Then what is the new PROT-O-SUDS? Itell you frankly, friends, it is nothing but a lot of pure soft soap!Remember . .. We make no fabulous claims for PROT-O-SUDS . .. We assume thatyou are reasonably clean to start with! And now for your late breakfastnews, PROT-O-SUDS takes you direct to the Central News Bureau for a finalsurvey on the Carmack murder case. .. . "

Beardsley groaned. New voice in the background, while the screen presenteda slow montage. Cine-runs of the great Carmack himself, including those atthe International Cybernetics Congress a year ago . .. Survey of the murderscene, the Carmack mansion . .. Close-up of ECAIAC . .. Diagrammatic detailof ECAIAC . .. Then dramatically, the grim and imposing figure of GeorgeMandleco, Minister of Justice. 

And then the news-caster's voice: ". .. Certain that final processingwill go forward today. It would be a gross understatement to say thatthe Carmack Case has captured the attention of the nation, bothofficialdom and public alike! _Never_ in the history of Crime-Centralhas there been such an undercurrent of speculation and excitement. .. . "

"Excitement?" murmured Beardsley. 

"And now it is heightened, by no less an authority than the Minister ofJustice himself, who brought both plaudits and censure upon himselftoday with the outright statement that _deep-rooted political issues_may well be involved. As you must know by now, it was the murdered manhimself--Amos Carmack--who some years ago carried on the incessantlobbying that resulted in ECAIAC being accepted _pro bono publico_ byCrime-Central. What devastating irony! For now it is ECAIAC itself thatmust weigh each detail, correlate all factors, probe every motive andmachination leading to the _murder of its creator_. .. . "

"That's not entirely true, you know, " muttered Beardsley. 

Quick flicker, again a close-up of ECAIAC, and the drama-laden voice:"ECAIAC! Electronic Analysis Integrator and Computor. And now--anexclusive! From a very reliable source this reporter has learned that_three Primes_ are involved. .. . "

"Ha!" grated Beardsley. 

". .. And they will be broken down in quotient. Two must ultimately beeliminated--barring, of course, the possible emergence of any minorfactor to status of Prime, which at this stage seems unlikely. It isestimated that by today or tomorrow at the latest Carmack's murdererwill be brought to justice. .. . "

Beardsley had taken as much as he could of this pseudo-factual mush. Hejerked forward violently, rapped the pilot on the shoulder. "DAMN IT!WILL YOU SHUT THE DAMN THING OFF!"

 * * * * *

He was immediately appalled at his outburst, and by the pilot's startledglance, but the stat went off immediately. 

Beardsley leaned back muttering to himself. Carmack, Carmack! For sevenweeks now he had lived with it intricately and intimately, as the caseshoved everything else right off the news-stat. People took the latestechoes to bed with them, commuters gobbled it with their breakfastcereal. Thank God today would see the end, and they could once more havethe hot South Polar crisis with their cereal. 

 * * * * *

Seven weeks! He clutched the bulging briefcase with a wearisome horror. Twenty-two persona-tapes from Central File, all neatly processed andready for ECAIAC. End result of the endless chart sifts, emphasis (asalways!) on parietosomatic recession, the slow emergence of minorconstants, the inexorable trend toward Price Factor and then_verification_, _verification_, to each his own, with all the subtle andshaded values of the Augment Index brought finally to focus on therelevance-graph _Carmack_. 

Sure, thought Beardsley. A thing of augment-indexing and psych-tapes, quite without possibility of error. Now in the _old_ days of crimedetection--it might have taken them seven months instead of weeks, notto mention frustration and leg-work and false-leads and sweat, but--

His mouth pulled down bitterly. _Serological Coördinator. Glorifiedfile-clerk is more like it. High-salaried errand-boy. _

"Here we are, sir!" The pilot's voice jarred him to reality as thecopter berthed. 

Beardsley hurried toward the roof entrance. His faded blue suit, a sizetoo large, flapped about him, and the outmoded felt hat seemed to sinkto the level of his thick-lensed glasses. The guard greeted him, butsuppressed a smile as the cherubic little man flashed his official pass. 

For there was something about Raoul Beardsley that eternally evokedamusement--an air of vacuous innocence and a remote forlornness. He gavethe appearance of a person who sold shoes during the day, washed hiswife's dishes at night and then solved two or three galacti-gram puzzlesbefore turning off the light precisely at ten. Few, if any, rememberedthat this nervous little man had once been top Inspector of New YorkCity's Homicide Bureau . .. But that was a dozen long years ago. Sincethen he had seen the antiquated detective methods of 1960 disappear, andhe had died a little, too, seeing his Homicide Bureau relegated to amere subsidiary with the growth of the Coördinate and MechanicalDivisions. His appointment to Chief of Co-ördinants, Federal, wasautomatic and unquestioned; and Beardsley would have been the last toknow, or to care, that he had correlated some eight million miles ofserological data for the entrains of ECAIAC, a perfect record of not asingle unsolved case. 

And the penalty was in his eyes, if one cared to look beyond thethick-lensed glasses. No one ever did. They were remote eyes, a littlebewildered, a little hurt . .. A mirror gone dull from times rememberedbut irretrievably lost. 

 * * * * *

Beardsley stepped onto the corridor slidewalk, coasted to the escalatorand rode it down. Still immersed in his thoughts, he pushed intoECAIAC's room . .. _and again it happened_. 

So shockingly sudden, there was not even time for remonstrance athimself. The feeling hit him as always before, straight and unerring, asurging impact that smashed forward and stopped him in his tracks, literally paralyzed. 

He caught his breath convulsively. How often had he come here? And howoften had this happened, even when he'd sworn he wouldn't let it? Therewas something about the sight and sound and feel of ECAIAC that got tohim, that seeped beneath flesh and bone and into his brain and sent hissenses singing. Beardsley managed to gulp, as he observed the shinyblack colossus that filled the entire length of the ninety-foot room; adozen techs scurried around it, taking notes, attentive to the flashinglights in red-and-green and the faint clicking of thousands of relaysthat rose in susurration. 

But more than that arose. It was something that pervaded the room, not apulsing but a _presence_, a sort of snapping intangible intelligencethat reached beyond the audible and sheared at Beardsley's nerve-ends. 

And it hadn't been there a moment before. That was the shocking thing. Beardsley knew that it _knew_! It was sentient, it was alive and awareand waiting, and it was listening. 

As always, it knew that _he_ had entered. 

Beardsley gulped again, stood frozen for half a minute. None of thetechs seemed to notice; they had often chided him about it, but he wasused to that now. At last he broke the spell and made his legs move, feeling cold sweat as he hurried along the length of ECAIAC towardArnold's office. 

There . .. Just about there . .. By the rheostats, where the four redlights and the two green made a baleful pattern against the black metalskin. He felt it stronger than ever this time, something reaching andsinister aimed solely at him. He skirted the place with a quick gooseyhop, stumbled a little and felt panic, but made it all right to theoffice. 

Beardsley hated these moments. He was still trembling as he made ahurried entrance. Sure enough, as if on cue Jeff Arnold glanced up fromhis charts and grinned. 

"Ah, good morning, Beardsley! Now don't tell me our pet goo--uh--snappedat you again?"

It was the routine remark, but today Arnold was immediately contrite fora change. "Sorry, " he said, and a certain weariness replaced the grin. He gestured to the alco-mech. "Can I dial you a drink? Feel in need ofone myself!"

"Eleven-C, " said Beardsley, and slumped into the pneumo-chair. Arnoldrose and dialled 11-C, handed him the drink and dialled 9-R for himself. Sipping it, he moved around the desk. 

There was something very strange and preoccupied in his movements, Beardsley thought, more than a mere tiredness. He had never seen Arnoldthis way. 

"Yes sir, this is the day!" A muscle twitched in his corded neck; Arnoldeased his long frame into a chair, rubbed thumb and forefinger at hiseyes. "Been up half the night running off clearance tests. Can't affordto foul up on this one!"

Beardsley tossed off his drink and blinked at the fiery strength of it. Now why should Arnold say that? When had ECAIAC ever fouled up? Hewatched the man across the desk. Jeff Arnold was a vigorous, strikingspecimen, handsome in an athletic way, with long stubborn jaw andunhappy gray eyes beneath his unruly hair; the sort of face thatintrigues women, Beardsley catalogued from past experience. And, headded, altogether too young a man to be operating a monster like ECAIAC. 

 * * * * *

Arnold indicated the empty glass. "Another?"

"No, I think not, " Beardsley replied carefully. 

Arnold hesitated, eyeing the briefcase in Beardsley's clutch. "It's beenrough on you, too, I imagine. Hope there aren't more than thirtyvariants! We're set up for more, of course, but it'll necessitate--"

"Twenty-two, " Beardsley assured him. Carefully, he spread the coded andsealed _persona-tapes_ across the desk. "Fresh from Citizen-FileAugment, everything annotated and cross-checked. Blood-count, emotionalstasis, plethora, psycho-geneological index, neuro-thalamicimbalance--every type factor is here. We really went to the Files onthis case. "

"Looks as if you did! How does it narrow down?"

"Fifteen possibles, four Logicals and three Primes--" Beardsley stoppedabruptly. (That news-caster: how had he known there were three Primes?This stuff was not supposed to leak!) "Twenty-two who _knew_ Carmack, "he went on. "That includes associational as well as motive-opportunityfactors, with a probability sphere of . 004. .. . "

Arnold nodded thoughtfully; his fingers moved unconscious and caressingacross the edge of the desk. "Yes, I see. That's close! Good job, " hesaid uncertainly. 

"Should be! Seven weeks for annotation and code. " Beardsley was watchingArnold's fingers; there was something aimless and fretful as they pushedamong the code-sealed tapes. Beardsley made his voice casual. "If itinterests you, " he said, "yes--you are there. "

 * * * * *

He wanted a reaction and he got it. 

"Me!" Arnold stiffened, pulled his fingers away hastily. 

"That surprises you? Don't worry, you're not one of the Primes; probablybe rejected on the first run. It's just that you once knew Carmackrather well. Cal Tech, wasn't it, when Carmack was doing his specialwork on magnetronics? Naturally you've had contact since, due to thenature of your job. "

Arnold nodded, frowning. "That's right. It just hadn't occurred to methat--"

Beardsley realized that he wasn't lying. _It was not the thought of hisown tape that bothered Arnold. _

"Oh, we're thorough over at 'Coördinates Division!'" Beardsley laughed, making a minor joke of it. "Now here, " he touched a spool labelled inred, "is your Basic Invariant. Carmack--Amos T. Murdered man. Foundbludgeoned in library of his home, night of April 4. Age 56, held alloutstanding patents on ECAIAC, worth millions, and"--he looked up, beaming--"leaves beautiful wife. "

He paused for the merest moment. Save for a soft drumming of fingers onthe desk, Arnold was silent. 

"And here's a sub-Basic: Mrs. Carmack will be a rich woman now. She wasconsiderably younger than Carmack--and she's been having an affair withanother man. " Beardsley smiled at Jeff Arnold. "That's a sociologicalnote beyond our sphere, but we managed to get the data. I'll bet thedepartment was appalled that such a gorgeous woman could be resolvedinto neo-Euclidian equations!"

"Why?" Arnold was suddenly irritable. "It's been done a thousand timesbefore!"

"Of course, " shrugged Beardsley. "And it's really up to ECAIAC, isn'tit? A Prime can be negated, while on the other hand a variant can shiftfrom possible to Logical to Prime. Or am I wrong? I've never been up onthe mechanics. "

Arnold grunted. "There's bound to be some correlatory shift! ThePrimes--how many did you say?"

"Three as of now. "

Arnold rose abruptly, then strode to the alco-mech and dialled himselfanother drink. He took an uncommonly long time about it. "Look, " hesaid, "we both know about these things! In a case like this there arebound to be political repercussions--" He hit Beardsley with a gaugingglance. "Well, " he blurted, "I have to admit I'm damn curious! Mindtelling me who are the three Primes? Ah--strictly off the record, youunderstand. "

Beardsley had expected something like this, and he was quite ready toanswer; but he carefully removed his glasses, massaged the bridge of hisnose and frowned. "Well, now. .. . "

"Come on, give! I know it's against protocol and all that . .. But hell!We'll have the answer anyway in a matter of hours. "

Beardsley nodded with a show of thoughtfulness. "Yes, that's true, isn'tit? Very well. But strictly off the record! I warn you--not only willthe first Prime startle you, but the information could be dangerous!"

He waited a moment, then he leaned forward and whispered: "Mandleco!"

 * * * * *

For a moment Arnold didn't move. His face was ludicrous. Then Beardsleysaw his hands clench. 

"Mandleco!" the word jolted from his lips. "George Mandleco, Minister ofJustice? I don't believe you!"

"It's a fact, " Beardsley told him. "Right now he equates into anuncertain Prime. "

"Yes, yes . .. But Mandleco! Good Lord. .. . "

"I said _uncertain_ Prime. As you mentioned yourself, there is sure tobe a shift of variants. Surely you have faith in ECAIAC?"

"Of course! But Mandleco, why Mandleco?"

"Why not? He was a friend of Carmack's--or a business associate shall wesay? He worked with Carmack on the ECAIAC lobby, was largely responsiblefor pushing it through. "

"Yes, I--say, that's right! It would be in C-F. .. . "

"There are things, " murmured Beardsley, "in Central File that wouldastound you. "

Arnold was staring at the coded tapes. "Mandleco, " he breathed. "Andwith elections coming up!" He shook himself out of the daze. "The--theother two Primes?"

"Next is not so startling. A really strong Recessive Factor there . .. Professor Karl Losch. "

Arnold jerked erect suddenly. "Losch? Say, I remember him! Now _there's_a man pursued by bad luck. He was working along similar lines toCarmack--in fact, wasn't he in Carmack's employ for a while?--butCarmack was first with the patents. You don't suppose that Losch--"

"I'm not supposed to suppose, " Beardsley said softly. "But clinically, it is interesting to note that motive factor alone equates Losch fromLogical into Prime. _Plus_ a high neuro-thalamic imbalance--132 over 80on the last Index, with pronounced efforts at suppression. "

He watched Arnold absorb that, and went on: "Now for the third Prime. Ithink it'll interest you. .. . "

 * * * * *

He waited deliberately. He looked at Jeff Arnold for a long moment andsaw that the man was calm. Too calm. So absolutely motionless that itwasn't real. 

"Third Prime. A strong one, believe me. In a way most interesting ofall. " He pressed the words out slowly and flatly. "The third Prime, "said Beardsley, "is . .. Pederson. "

He watched Arnold relax ever so slowly, leaning back, the tension goingaway as he uncoiled in the chair; but the young man's face wasn't somuch relieved as it was puzzled. 

"Pederson. Pederson? I don't seem to--You can't mean _Brook_ Pederson, the one-time tele-columnist?"

"None other. I don't suppose you remember, but back in '60 he opposedthe ECAIAC lobby. I mean _opposed_ it, _fought_ it! Predicted thatGovernment installation of such a machine would not inspire confidence, that the nation's crime rate would rise . .. He saw nothing but chaos. For a while there he was quite a man. Got himself a following. Hadambitions. "

"But I do remember it!" Arnold thumped the desk. "Of course! Pedersonheaded a bloc against 'Carmack's Folly, ' but he backed the wrong horse, and when the bubble burst he was out in the cold. Became a laughingstock. " Arnold paused, and his glance held something of shrewdness and alivening challenge. "Actually, Pederson couldn't have been more wrong. In those first two years ECAIAC reduced the crime-rate by some fortypercent. "

"So it's claimed!" This was a sore point and Beardsley rose to the bait. "It couldn't be that crime was on the down-grade already? I could showyou plenty of statistics that--why, I could show you methods--"

"I'll just bet you could. " Arnold gave a thin tolerant smile. "I refuseto enter _that argument_ again, not with you, Beardsley. I for one trustin machines not in evolution. I've told you before. .. . "

 * * * * *

And Beardsley found himself sitting there with a flush of heat at hishair-roots, half-angry and half foolish as he realized how he had beenbaited. 

Jeff Arnold was abruptly all business. He plunged his finger at abutton, spoke into the intercom. "Joe! How's that test-run coming?"

"All-X so far! Give us ten minutes for clearance. "

"Take twenty, but make sure it's _clearance_. Checked Quantitative, haveyou? How about feed-backs? . .. Yes . .. What's that? Semantic circuits!Hell yes, check _all_ synaptics for clearance! I want no excess datafouling up this run!"

He clicked off and sat there moodily, and Beardsley watched him, notingthe quick nervous rhythm of Arnold's fingers. Arnold noticed it, too, and desisted. 

"Look, " he said. "Mandleco, Losch, Pederson. Those three Primes justdon't make sense to me!"

"They don't?" Beardsley allowed just the proper note of resentment. "Surely you are not questioning Coördinates. .. . "

"You know I'm not! But--"

Beardsley waited, knowing it was coming now. The thing Arnold had beenaching to voice for the past five minutes. 

"But--well, damn it, there is _Mrs. _ Carmack, for example. As youpointed out yourself, she'll be a rich woman now! It would seem to me--"

"That she'd be a Prime? I'm surprised at you, Jeff; that's ancientthinking. " If there was a trace of sarcasm, it was lost on Arnold. "Oh, I grant you it used to hold true--principle beneficiary was always primesuspect. Fiction especially was full of it. Queen, Dickson Carr, Boucheryou--know the ilk. But with ECAIAC we've gotten away from all that, haven't we?"

Arnold stared at him suspiciously, hesitated, then brought it out withan effort. "Well--how _did_ she equate?"

"Who? Oh yes, the beautiful widow. She only made Logical, and even thatis borderline. "

"I see. " Arnold rose, dialled himself another drink, then changed hismind and put it down untouched. He turned to gather up the tapes, andhis voice was apologetic. 

"It's not that I'd ever questioned Coördinates Division! We're tooclosely aligned for that, Raoul. .. . " (_First time he's ever used myfirst name_, thought Beardsley. ) "You have a splendid record to uphold, as we do here at Mechanical. That's why . .. Well, I want to get this offas smoothly as possible!"

Something indefinable, a queasy feeling, took Beardsley about themiddle. He said sharply: "Any reason why not?"

"No, not really. But in recent weeks--I tell you this in strictestconfidence, understand!--in recent weeks it's been a rather ticklishthing to get total synaptic clearance. "

 * * * * *

Synaptics? Beardsley began thinking back to the Crime-Central "RequiredAnnual Basic. " The Mechanical had never been his strong point. He saiduncertainly, "But--that's serious!"

"It's just that we've found ECAIAC holding back excess data fromprevious runs. Fouls up the relays, takes hours to iron out theclearance. " Arnold gave him a keen look. "More of a nuisance really, but the weirdest thing. Stubborn!"

_Stubborn. _ Beardsley could have thought of a better word. Through thepanelled glass he glimpsed the black metal sheathe of the monster outthere, the shapeless crouching and malevolent winking lights, and hefelt himself going to pieces inside with a sudden shaking crumble; hehated himself for it but he couldn't stop it; his hands clenched untilthe knuckles showed white. 

". .. Matter of time until we find the cause, " Arnold was saying, "but Iguarantee total clearance _today_. Shall we get on with it?" Handsloaded with tapes, he moved for the door. 

"No!" Beardsley cried. "Arnold, if you don't mind, I--"

"Oh, for God's sake, not again! Raoul, I swear I'm going to do somethingabout this phobia of yours; it's getting to be not so funny any more. "With a show of exasperation, Arnold propelled him through the door. "Igive you my absolute word our pet won't snap at you. Not today. It'sgoing to be far too busy for the likes of you!"

 * * * * *

And Jeff Arnold was right, Beardsley discovered. Those baleful overtoneswere gone, replaced by a sustained soft whisper along the ninety-foothull--a rather impatient whisper but not at all unpleasant. Beardsleyrelaxed by slow degrees, but kept a cautious distance, while Arnoldpointed out every light along the length flashing green for TotalClearance. 

"She's rarin' to go, " said Arnold with a display of good humor, "butwe'll let her wait a while, eh?" He clapped a friendly arm acrossBeardsley's shoulder. "You just come along now and watch; I think yourtrouble is, you've never been properly introduced! We'll have no more ofthis feudin' and fussin' between you and ECAIAC. "

So Beardsley, showing more courage than he felt, trailed thecyberneticist through every unit of final check-up. Much of it he knewalready from the "Required Annual Basic" . .. Or thought he knew. Forthis was so different from the Manuals! He felt at once ashamed and awedas he viewed at first hand the unfolding schematic structure. He wasthrilled at sight of the selectors and analyzers of processed beryllium, the logic-and-semantic circuits in complex little bundles, thesensitized variant-tapes waiting for transferral impress, all revealedby a flick of Arnold's fingers that threw open entire sheathed sectionsto bare the inner secrets. The thousands of tiny transistors amazedBeardsley. The endless array of electric eyes startled him. And thespongy centers of synaptic cell-clusters horrified him, recalling toovividly to mind what he knew of the physical human brain. 

Along the monstrous length he trailed Jeff Arnold; he trailed and hewatched and he listened, not interfering once by word or gesture. Andbefore it was over his heart was surging with a great revelatory beatbecause suddenly _he knew_ . .. _he knew_. .. . 

Arnold seemed in high good humor as they paced back. "So, " he nudgedBeardsley in the ribs, "we'll have no more of this nonsense between youand ECAIAC. Eh? You're just _bound_ to be good friends now. "

Beardsley didn't answer. The revelation was still too much with him. Hewatched as Arnold conferred with a group of his techs about amicro-chron, and the time was carefully noted for Central Record. 

Then the first of the tapes went in. The Basic Invariant--Amos Carmack. 

It reached synapse and a tiny blip registered on cue. 

The rest of the tapes fed in, razoring through the rollers, past theselenic-sensitized tips of the relays. There was no progressive order. After the Basic Invariant progression didn't matter. Possible or Logicalor Prime, all factors would correlate or cancel; any divergentstatus-shift would be duly handled by transferral impress. 

Beardsley counted the tapes. Twenty . .. Twenty-one . .. Twenty-two. 

The techs dispersed, taking up their various posts where specialeject-tapes clicked out a second-by-second record of the progression. 

 * * * * *

Nothing much happened. The sound of ECAIAC became a steady inundantdrone; or did Beardsley just imagine that he detected something of the_gleeful_ in it? With an effort he put the thought from him, and keepinga cautious distance he took a turn around the monster, up one side anddown the other. 

He stopped by Jeff Arnold, who was jotting down figures from the chrono. That seemed silly, as nothing had happened yet. 

Arnold glanced up and grinned at him, as if totally unconcerned thatthis was the most repercussive case in the entire history ofCrime-Central! A little disconcerted, Beardsley said, "What happensfirst?"

"Oh, plenty is _happening_. But the first you'll notice will be a totalreject. Watch when that happens. Complete silence, every light red forexactly two and a half seconds--the reject, and then everythingcontinues. "

"How about Transferral Impress? You know--possible to Logical, orLogical to Prime?"

Arnold paused over his notes for the merest instant. "Why--it'sprogressive, of course. _That_ you won't notice!"

Beardsley stared at him curiously, started to speak and then changed hismind. He wandered again, watching the techs but not interfering. Andsuddenly he was aware that the first total reject had come. It happenedwith smooth and sudden silence just as Arnold had described, ECAIACbreaking pace for mere seconds . .. Then all was clear again, and one ofthe techs hurried down the aisle with the tape, which he handed toArnold. 

 * * * * *

Beardsley was aware of a wild pounding of pulse as he stared at theanonymous tape. One of the fifteen "possibles"? It might even be arejected Logical. Mrs. Carmack? She was borderline. Or a Prime! It couldbe Mandleco himself--or Losch or Pederson. No . .. It was unlikely anyPrimes would fall this early. .. . 

But maybe they were no longer Primes! Maybe _right now_ TransferralImpress was at work, maybe one or more of them was being relegated tolower coördinate-status somewhere there in the entrails. .. . 

He felt a bounding excitement. And, as if reading his thoughts, JeffArnold gave him an amused look. 

"Don't let it get to you, Raoul. I used to find it the same; we all do. But then you get to thinking, hell, why try to guess? Identities don'tmatter now!" He indicated the coded tape. "A total reject--anonymous. ECAIAC's way of telling us _that_ person could not possibly be themurderer. "

"But--you're not even curious?"

"At rejects? Why?" Arnold seemed perplexed. "Oh, you mean because _I'm_among the 'possibles. ' Frankly it doesn't bother me. I know I'm not themurderer, and I have faith in ECAIAC. If this isn't my tape, the nextwill be--or the eighth, or the fifteenth. "

Beardsley nodded slowly. With ECAIAC it was only the final equate thatmattered, the total result of Cumulative. He saw the truth in that, andthe perfection. Or--his eyes beneath the glasses came to a quick brightfocus--_was_ it quite perfection? He watched in silence as Arnoldconsulted the micro-chron and jotted more notes. _Rej. Q-9 (code): (. 008synap. Circ. ): 11:23 A. M. _

Beardsley wandered again, watching the techs. A sudden shivering seizedhim. How could they remain so calm? Were they so close to the forestthey couldn't notice? Something was about to happen . .. To him it wasunmistakable, in the very atmosphere, sharpened and heightened by thefour walls--a pervading sense of _wrongness_ and a pyramiding tension. 

Even Arnold wasn't aware; _audibly_ nothing had changed, as ECAIACcontinued its soft-clicking whisper and the techs methodically checkedthe progress tapes. Beardsley stood numbly for a moment, strugglingagainst a welter of panic. Palms sweating, he moved a safe distance awayand waited. 

Eight minutes later came another reject. Six minutes later, the third. ECAIAC continued its blithe, soft-throated rhythm--but Beardsley was notfooled. 

Someone sent out for coffee. It arrived in steaming thermo-containers. Beardsley was on his first cup of coffee when rejects 4, 5 and 6 camethrough. 

He was on his second cup when number 7 ejected, and he had just taken alast swallow when all hell broke loose. 

 * * * * *

It wasn't much different from the other rejects. Total silence, everylight in every section red . .. Trouble was, they couldn't seem to gettogether again. Some went back to green, others blinked with ominousuncertainty, still others said "to hell with it" and exploded in viciousshards of glass that sprayed across the room. That was only thebeginning. Twenty feet from Beardsley came a louder explosion, a sort ofmuffled hissing. He ducked, as a complete bank of transistors zoomedpast his head. From a dozen places along the ninety-foot length angrytrails of smoke poured out. A tech yelled "Damn!" as he pulled back aburned hand. Sheathes crashed open. Long strands of vari-colored wireburst out and began a crazy aimless writhing, accompanied by an ominousbuzzing sound as if a swarm of angry metallic bees had escaped. Someonewas yelling, "Master-switch! The master-switch!"

Beardsley saw Arnold leap to the master-switch, where he becameentangled with a tech who was screaming at him, "My God, sir, hurry!It's BREAKDOWN!"

Cursing, Arnold shoved the man aside and pulled the controls. 

But now that it was roused, ECAIAC didn't want to give up so easily. There came a staccato series of minor explosions--defiant gesture, thought Beardsley!--before silence engulfed the room together with adrift of acrid smoke. 

It was acrid and _angry_ smoke. From a safe distance Beardsley adjustedhis glasses and observed the frantic, scurrying techs, many of themnursing burned hands. Aside from a pounding heart he was amazed at hisown calm; nevertheless, he tread with caution as he approached Arnold, who was on his haunches dolefully surveying the area of major damage. 

"Uh--is it something serious?"

Arnold glared up at him. "Overload on the feed-backs. If that's _all_ itis, we can pull out the unit and replace it in a few hours. "

"Never happened before, eh?"

"Not like this, " Arnold groaned. "Lord--it just seemed to go berserk!"

Beardsley glanced around nervously. "You see? You see? I didn't thinkour beautiful friendship could last. .. . "

Arnold snarled, "Get out, Beardsley! What the hell you doing hereanyway? Go somewhere and read a book!"

"Yes. Yes, I--" Beardsley swallowed hastily. He then straightened, tooka last look around and pulled himself together. Without a word, heturned and strode resolutely into Jeff Arnold's office; he closed thedoor carefully, then hurried over to the stat and pushed the button forpriority. 

"Hello, " he said. "Mandleco's office? . .. This is Mechanical Division . .. No, I want _Mandleco_ . .. I don't care, get him I said! This is emergency!Put him on at once!"

 * * * * *

Mandleco arrived twenty minutes later. The Minister of Justice was talland raw-boned with a long hook-nose, a shock of whitening hair, and morethan a suggestion of military arrogance. He paused for precisely onesecond in the doorway, then strode straight over to Jeff Arnold. Beforesaying a word he bent slightly and peered into the maze of mechanism. 

Beardsley wanted to say, "Do you find the cause of the trouble, sir?"But he held his tongue. 

Mandleco straightened up, glaring. "Arnold, what is the meaning ofthis?"

"Breakdown, sir. "

"I can see that! The cause, man, the cause!"

"I--it's only the feed-back, sir. " Arnold struggled with the terminals, most of which were a fused and tangled mess. "Not as bad as it looks, Iassure you. I've already contacted Maintenance; they're sending up a newunit. "

"What precisely does that mean? Can you complete the run or not! Thishas got to go through today!"

Arnold touched a hot terminal, jerked back his hand and swore. "It will, sir. Give us a few hours. We had seven total rejects, so I doubt thetapes are at fault. More like a synaptic overload. Transferrals areokay, so I want to try it with a stepped-up synaptic check; that'llalleviate any overload without drain on the minor selective, which isbetter than setting up complete new correlation-grams. "

It was too much for Mandleco. Grinding a fist in his palm, he staredinto the matrix and muttered, "Unprecedented. Absolutely unprecedented!Arnold, I just can't understand _why_--"

"Happened pretty suddenly, " Beardsley intruded. His voice was low andladen with meaning. "Almost as if it had gone berserk! And littlewonder, if you ask me. .. . "

Mandleco turned quickly. "Eh? What do you mean?"

"Well . .. How would _you_ feel if you had just been handed the news, outof the blue, that someone you loved had been brutally murdered? ECAIACreacted, is all. She must have regarded Carmack as a father--"

 * * * * *

Arnold looked up in amazement. "Beardsley, will you stop that crazynonsense!"

"Nonsense?" Beardsley appeared hurt. "Why--you said yourself that youwanted me and ECAIAC to become great friends!" He appealed to Mandleco. "That's what he said, sir, and he even took pains to introduce me andall, and--"

"It was in the nature of a joke, sir!" Arnold's voice rose an octave. "Aprivate little joke, and he's trying to make it appear--"

"Stop it, stop it!" Mandleco thundered. "Arnold--you get that new unitinstalled on the double! Put your best men on it. That's an order!Beardsley, I'm glad you had the presence of mind to contact me. Commendable, most commendable. "

Arnold scowled, hit Beardsley with an accusing look. 

"Above all, " said Mandleco, "not a word of this must leak! _Damn_ it, why should this have to happen _now_? Public confidence will beundermined if they think ECAIAC is--is--"

"Not infallible?" suggested Beardsley. 

"Exactly. You hear me, Arnold? Not a word of this must get out!"

"I'm sure it won't, " Arnold glared venomously at Beardsley, "if you'lljust keep _him_ away from the tele-stats. "

 * * * * *

The Minister of Justice walked away, still muttering something aboutpublic confidence and political repercussions. Beardsley kept pacebeside him until they were across the room. Then he spoke, timidly atfirst. 

"Pardon me, sir, but--I'd like to ask you something. " His voice was lowand confidential. "If you'll just look around you. .. . "

"Eh?" Mandleco followed Beardsley's gesture, and for the first time heseemed to see the room in total. Shards of glass lay everywhere. A greattangle of wire was strewn half the length of ECAIAC, and a bank oftransistors reposed against the far wall in pitiful ruin. The techs hadalready started a strip-down, their tools and units across the flooradding to the general confusion. 

Mandleco said, "Well? What is it you--" His words stopped as if slicedin two by his teeth. "Yes. Yes, by God, I see what you mean!"

"Can you really conceive of operation in two hours? _Two hours_, " Arnoldsaid. "Two days, maybe. More likely in two weeks!"

Mandleco groaned as if in pain, staring around. 

Beardsley pressed his point. "You'll pardon my saying it, sir, but I_do_ realize what the Carmack Case means--to you personally. So muchbuild-up and publicity, and the people demanding a verdict . .. Why, ifthe case were to snag now--"

"Unthinkable!" A shudder touched Mandleco's long, lean frame. "Out withit, man! What are you trying to say?"

Beardsley was suddenly sweating. He felt as if a long tube were insideof him, hot and throbbing, reaching up with a surge of pulse to histemples. _It had to be now. He had to say it. _

"Well, " he gulped. "Just this, sir. I think the case can be crackedright now. Today. _Without_ ECAIAC. "

"Nonsense! Without ECAIAC? Why, that's--"

"Sure. You think it's crazy. But I tell you _I_ can do it!" Beardsley'swords came fast and urgent. "I've followed this case from the beginning, I processed it, I'm familiar with every angle. I tell you, _I candeliver the killer_. Give me permission to try!"

Mandleco stared at Beardsley as if he were some queer specimen under amicroscope; his mouth opened to speak, then he clamped his teeth tightlyand strode away. 

He turned back abruptly. "So you think you have the solution. Youactually--do--think it!" His eyes narrowed down, no longer amused, as hefixed the little serologist with a peculiar gaze. "Go on, Beardsley. Your suggestion at least has the novelty of imagination!"

"The novelty of experience, " Beardsley said bitterly. "_With yourpermission and co-operation_ I can solve this case, together withpositive evidence that will hold up in any court! What's more, I'll doit today. A guarantee, " Beardsley said pointedly, "which I dare say youno longer have from ECAIAC. "

 * * * * *

Mandleco stood quite motionless, trying to recall something. "Now Iremember! You were with New York Homicide, weren't you, before promotionto Coördinates in '60? I recall passing on your record. Top record, too, for those days. "

Beardsley gestured impatiently. "How about it, sir? I know everypertinent fact of this case, plus a few of my own which haven't beentested in a dozen years. Not indexes and tubes and tapes--just facts!Fact and method! Let me apply them!"

"I'm afraid it's not as simple as that, Beardsley. There _is_ ECAIAC, and public confidence must not be allowed--"

"The public be damned, " Beardsley caught himself. "All right--forappearance sake you can say the solution _came_ from ECAIAC. Let ECAIACverify me later if you wish. I'm not after headlines and glory . .. Byheaven, sir, I'm offering you an _out_!"

Mandleco pondered that. He glanced again at the confusion across theroom, and realization seemed to hit him. Quite suddenly, then, he threwback his head and roared with laughter. 

"An out. And by heaven, Beardsley, I'm offering you a try! The ideaappeals to me! Beardsley versus ECAIAC . .. Socio-archaism opposed to the_machina-ratiocinatrix_. Why, it's delicious!" He subsided to a rumbleof mirth and wiped tears from his eyes. "So! Just what do you propose?"

Beardsley saw nothing amusing. "I propose first, sir, that we reach anunderstanding. I'm to conduct the investigation my own way, withoutinterference?"

"You have my word! I never violate it. "

"Good. Then start using your word right now. There are three persons Iwant placed in temporary custody; they are to be brought over here atonce for questioning. "

 * * * * *

Mandleco looked appalled. "Questioning? _Here?_"

"Yes, right here. Immediately! The three I want are Mrs. Carmack--Ihappen to know she's still in the city. And Brook Pederson--you shouldreach him easily at Central News Bureau. The third--"

"Would that be Professor Losch?" Mandleco smugly asked. "Sorry, butLosch happens to be in Bermuda right now. "

Beardsley said sharply: "How did you know that?"

"Why, I--I'm acquainted with Losch, you know. He was planning avacation, and he mentioned Bermuda--"

"No. I don't mean that. _How did you know Losch was my third person?_"

Mandleco bristled a little, his face reddening as he groped for ananswer. "Never mind, " Beardsley waved it aside. "If Losch is in Bermudaat present we'll reach him by tele-stat right now!" He was suddenlycrisp as he propelled the Minister of Justice toward Jeff Arnold'soffice. 

Mandleco stared at this little man, wondering if it were the same personhe had been talking to just minutes before. "Now see here, Beardsley--"But he was interrupted. 

"I thought we had an understanding! Of course, if you'd prefer to counton ECAIAC--"

"Very well, " Mandleco nodded grimly, "I gave you my word. But theinstant Arnold repairs the breakdown, your little experiment is over! Doyou understand that?"

Beardsley nodded. He understood very well. 

"In the meantime, Beardsley, I warn you. I'll have no brow-beating ofthese citizens, no--what was it called--third-degreeing tactics! Iunderstand that sort of thing used to be pretty prevalent. "

Beardsley snorted, as if that were beneath comment, and closed theoffice door behind them. Mandleco hit him with a cagey glance. "TheLogicals and the Primes, eh? I suppose you know that I happen to be oneof those Primes. "

Beardsley looked straight at him. "Yes, I'm aware of it. My own approachwill be individualistic, of course, but I promise you won't beover-looked!"

 * * * * *

It might have been fatal--but Beardsley had judged his man well. Mandleco took it as a challenge. He was silent as he approached thetele-stat, and he no longer seemed amused. 

He put through the directive to have Mrs. Sheila Carmack and Mr. BrookPederson brought in. "As my guests, that is, " Mandleco told hisoperative. "_Be sure they understand that. _ They are to be brought toCrime-Central, Mechanical Division, at once . .. Yes, I said MechanicalDivision! At once means _now_. "

Beardsley nodded approval. "And now Professor Losch, please?"

Without a waste of motion, Mandleco put through to Bermuda on prioritybeam. While they waited he gave Beardsley a look of puzzlement and newrespect. "Ah--I'm not implying that it's against protocol, of course, but I assume you've already made some investigation along lines of yourown?"

"Superficial only, " Beardsley said. 

"I see. Well then, would you mind giving me some . .. You know, just anidea of how you plan to proceed?"

Beardsley said bluntly: "Yes, I would mind. "

"Oh. " Mandleco frowned and persisted. "Psychologic deduction. Wasn'tthat your _forte_? I seem to recall--"

Beardsley grunted. "I'll tell you this much, there are implicationsabout this case that fascinate me!"

"Oh?" Mandleco found himself a chair, sat upon it and edged forward. "Idon't just quite--"

"Look. To begin with, the case is unique; so much so that your entirestructure of approach is wrong. I mean top-heavy! Top-heavy withgadgetry and assumption. "

"Assumption?" Mandleco bristled a little. "You of all people should knowbetter. Not _once_ in the past dozen years has ECAIAC failed to arriveat a conclusive and pin-point solution based on correlative factors!"

Beardsley smiled thinly. "Ah, yes. But we were speaking of the _Carmack_case. I repeat, it's not only unique but untenable; it became untenablethe moment you assigned ECAIAC the task of solving the murder of its owncreator! That, " he said grimly, "is a mistake we wouldn't have made evenin '60. .. . "

 * * * * *

Mandleco thought that over, shook his head and frowned. It was obvioushe missed the connotation. "So?" he urged. 

"So look at the murder itself. The _pattern_. You'll admit it does seemodd and misplaced for these times--or hadn't you noticed?" Beardsleyleaned forward sharply. "But it strikes a familiar note with me!Absolutely nothing in the way of material clues; not even the weapon;and the _modus operandi_ is one I haven't seen employed in years, theold idea of the most direct and simple murder being the safest!"

"I--I guess I just don't follow you. "

"I mean the _way_ Carmack was struck down. Nothing cute and fancy, nofrills or improvisation--just the proverbial blunt instrument, afterwhich the killer simply walked out of there. Believe me, I know aboutthese things. The very simplicity is the killer's protection. You canbet no trace will ever be found of that blunt instrument, and naturallyhe left no evidence coming or going. But then, " Beardsley saidobliquely, "your so-called 'Survey' men made a horrible botch of thescene. In '60 we'd have sent them back to patrolling the freeways!"

Mandleco started to protest, then closed his mouth quickly. "I see, Isee. "

"I can understand, " Beardsley murmured, "how emphasis on basicgroundwork has become minimized. So much reliance on Indexes andthalamic-imbalance and chart-sifts! It was only a matter of time until acriminal, a really _clever_ one, saw through the system--and reverted. "His fingers drummed the chair arm, then he looked up sharply. "And yetof all places, I'd say that Carmack's estate was _least_ ideallysituated for this type of murder; you know what I mean? You've beenthere?"

"Well, I--there have been occasions. Yes. "

Beardsley nodded. "I refer to Carmack's elaborate system againstinvasion of his privacy. To put it bluntly, he had enemies, and hisestate was designed as a refuge against those enemies; electronicbarriers pitched at ultra-frequency to respond only to certain neuralvibrations. Must have taken years of research to come up with that!"

Mandleco shifted impatiently. "Of course, but look here, Beardsley--"

"So it leaves me right where I started, doesn't it? And yet I know this:it was no _emotional_ killing. It was all coldly planned. The killer wassomeone Carmack trusted enough to have in his home; they were probablyhaving a quiet little chat together. And then precisely--on apredetermined minute--the killer rose from his chair and struck. "

Mandleco lifted his heavy hands and then, as if conscious of them, letthem fall limply across the desk. "But--come now, Beardsley! Psychologicdeduction is all very well, but how can you possibly know that?"

Beardsley gazed calmly at the Minister of Justice. For a moment he saidnothing. Mandleco seemed more alert than startled, more annoyed thaneither. 

"That, " said Beardsley softly, "I am not prepared to tell you. "

Mandleco seemed about to pursue the point, but there came aninterruption. Both men turned abruptly as the stat-screen gave itswarning blip. 

"Code C-C-Five!" came the remote voice. "Bermuda to Washington, Priority. This is Priority. C-C-Five . .. Your party is ready now, sir!"

 * * * * *

It was a pool-side scene, with hotel and tropical palms against anunbelievable blue sky. Professor Emil Losch loomed on the screen; he wasin swimming trunks, a small gray man who seemed hard as nails, his leantanned body belying his years. 

"Hello?" Losch peered sharply and then pulled away, almost upsetting anexpensive decanter of liquor on the table beside him. He seemed toblanch as he recognized the Minister of Justice. "Mandleco!"

The latter raised a hand in greeting. "Don't be alarmed, Professor, thisis not official. Just a social call. "

"I want to correct that, " Beardsley said bluntly as he thrust himselfinto range. "Professor Losch, this _is_ official; furthermore, I wish toadvise you that this stat is monitor-taped for both vis and audio, andthe resulting record is therefore admissible in any Court of Law. Beingso advised, is there any objection on your part to answering a briefseries of questions pertaining to the Carmack Case? I have been dulyauthorized by George Mandleco, Minister of Justice, " he added for therecord. 

Losch glanced bewilderedly from Beardsley to Mandleco, and seemed totake courage from the latter. 

"Objection?" he said. "This is a bit unusual, but . .. Of course, I haveno objection. "

"Very well. I shall make a series of statements, and give youopportunity to refute them either in part or _in toto_. Professor Losch, some years ago you were engaged privately, in magnetronic cyberneticresearch along similar lines to those later developed by Amos Carmack. Shortly thereafter you claimed that Carmack had thwarted you, out-maneuvered you, _out-stolen_ you at every turn; I believe those arepretty much your own words, as revealed by court records--"

"Correct! I repeat them now!"

"You filed against him, and litigation dragged through the courts forseveral years before Carmack finally won out. Shortly thereafter youdisappeared; I believe you took up residence in Europe. About a year agoyou returned, and was hired as Research Consultant in the laboratoriesof the Carmack Foundation. This is true?"

 * * * * *

For a moment Losch avoided looking at the screen. It was obvious he wasconsidering his answer carefully. 

"It's true, " he said. 

Beardsley said quickly, "It is my understanding that Mr. Mandlecointerceded with Carmack on your behalf--"

"I protest the last statement!" Losch's words exploded from the screen. "There was no intercession by anyone!" His head lifted defiantly. "Yes, I came back. I don't mind admitting I came crawling back. Carmackoffered me the position and I accepted!"

"Quite so. And he offered you a hundred thousand a year, didn't he?Twice the salary of any other top man?"

"You think that's out of line, " Losch bristled, "but he must havethought I was worth it--I think you know why! He owed me ten times asmuch!"

"You must have really hated Carmack, " murmured Beardsley. 

Mandleco thrust forward angrily, gesturing. "Losch, let me caution younot to answer that!"

"But I will answer it! Yes, I hated him, but if you think I killed theman you're wrong. Sure--I wanted to kill him--I thought about it oftenenough, but I hadn't the courage. " Losch glared at Beardsley from thescreen. "No doubt my Augment Index will bear it out, " he said bitterly. "Neuro-thalamic imbalance isn't it called? Pronounced efforts atemotional suppression?"

"Close enough, " Beardsley nodded, refusing to be enticed from his query. "And you were in Washington prior to and including the day of themurder. You admit this?"

"Of course, of course I admit it!" Losch sighed wearily and lifted hishands. "Why deny the obvious? I'm resigned to the fact that my Indexprobably makes me a prize Prime!"

"Professor Losch. As a person closely associated with the CarmackLaboratories, you must be aware of the--shall we say--elaborateprecautions Carmack took to ensure his privacy?"

Losch sank back slowly, but his eyes couldn't conceal a liveninginterest. "I don't know what you mean. "

"Then I'll tell you. I refer to the frequency barrier which Carmackinstalled within the past year. The 'neuro-vibe' I think he called it. That strikes a note?"

Losch said sullenly, "Perhaps! What about it?"

"Only this. Assuming the killer was a person Carmack had reason tomistrust--or to fear--he had to solve the neuro-vibe in order to gainaccess. Not many persons could have done that, Losch. But _you_ couldhave done it. "

Losch came up out of his chair with a heavy, angry look. "Now see here, you--"

"Which pretty well establishes motive, means and method. You were inWashington the day of the murder! And you left for Bermuda the dayfollowing! Is that substantially correct?"

"_Totally_ correct!" said Losch savagely. "Now may I ask what the hellyou're going to do about it?"

 * * * * *

Beardsley observed him for a prolonged second. "Remember it, " heanswered softly. 

Losch opened his mouth to say more, but Beardsley lifted a palm at thescreen and smiled benignly. "Well, sir, I think that about covers it. Iwant to thank you very much for the record, and--ah--have a nicevacation! Goodbye. "

With that he clicked off abruptly. 

 * * * * *

He turned to face Mandleco, who was struggling between anger anddistress as he paced away from the screen and back. He confrontedBeardsley with a sad and accusing look. "Now see here, Beardsley! If I'dknown your methods were . .. Don't you think that was all a bithigh-handed?"

"What? No, not in the least. Didn't you notice?"

"Notice what?"

"Losch was an angry man, yes, indeed. "

"Angry, " snapped Mandleco. "Good reason!"

"No, " Beardsley mused. "The _wrong_ reason. Murder--at least the typewe're concerned with--is a form of release, you know. A killer maycommit his deed in anger, but once the thing is accomplished he neverretains that anger long. " Beardsley gazed contemplatively at the screen. "You know, I admire that man. I really do. He had the convictions atleast, if not the courage. "

Mandleco pounced on that. "Then you think Losch is innocent?"

"I didn't say that!" Beardsley paused in a strange hesitation; his eyeshad gone remote beneath the very thick glasses, and his words came slowand isolated. "But he's part of the record. Yes, it should be quite arecord. In fact, I have a feeling--you know?--that this case is going tostand as a _monument_ in the annals of crime. .. . "

Mandleco stared at him, searched for the meaning there and then gave itup. _Why had he ever committed himself to this situation anyway? Didthis little man really know as much as he pretended, or was he merelyfumbling around in the dregs of a forgotten past?_ To be sure, Beardsleywas a pathetic enough figure; but the man had once been great in hisfield, and there was something about him even now. .. . 

There was the sudden way Beardsley had of losing his abstracted look, the eyes beneath those ridiculous lenses coming to a sharp bright focuswith tiny livening flecks in the gray of the iris; and the way thechange lifted his features from mediocrity to the alertness of aterrier. It was absurd, it was farcical . .. And it was all verydisturbing. 

"You told _me_, " Mandleco said testily, "that the killer was someoneCarmack trusted enough to have in his home. Then you bludgeon Losch withthe idea it was a person Carmack had reason to fear! It would seem tome, Beardsley--"

"No, no. I think my words to Losch were _assuming_ the killer was such aperson. " Beardsley looked up brightly, and even through those lensesMandleco could see the sharp focus. 

"Just the same, I fail to see what's to be gained by these outlandishmethods!"

Beardsley seemed genuinely surprised. "But I've gained a great dealalready! And don't forget, Mrs. Carmack and Pederson should be heresoon. "

"_That's_ a prospect I look forward to, " Mandleco tried to salvage amodicum of humor and failed miserably. He extracted a cigar, clamped histeeth upon it, frowned and glanced at his watch. He strode over andpeered out at the operations room. 

Beardsley said innocuously, "I wouldn't count on ECAIAC just yet. "

It was Beardsley's first error. He realized it instantly. The remarkseemed to trigger something in Mandleco. 

The Minister of Justice turned slowly, rolling the cigar from one cornerof his mouth to the other. "But I may, " he said. "You know, I just may!It's barely possible, Beardsley, that with some luck we'll be able todispense with your talents!" He said it with considerable more relishthan conviction, and moved for the door. "I think I'll just see howArnold is making out!"

 * * * * *

Arnold was making out very well, much to Mandleco's delight. No longerwas there chaos and confusion. The new feed-back unit had arrived, andinstallation was well under way. Blueprints were spread out as a crew oftechs worked feverishly at all damage areas. 

"It looks promising, " Arnold hurried up to greet him. "Told you I had agood crew here! Look--see this?" He indicated one of the variant-tapesbeing slowly reversed across the relays. 

"What is it?"

"The number eight reject. "

"That what caused the trouble?"

"Well . .. We think so, but it's problematical. Whether it did or not, we're safe in resuming the run without any shift in the correlationtotal. "

Mandleco stared at the number eight. "Throw it out!" he snapped. 

"What--what did you say, sir?"

"I said throw it out! Get this thing to functioning!"

Arnold was aghast. "But, " he gulped, "we just can't throw out data!Sure, it was about to be a reject--but everything, even rejects, containa factor-balance! You know that, sir. "

Mandleco got control of himself with an effort. "Yes--yes, of course. Iknow you're right. But damn it, man, those units cost something likeeighty thousand dollars! Suppose the same breakdown occurs?"

"Not a chance of it this time. We'll merely continue with a stepped-upsynaptic check. Take longer for Cumulative, perhaps, but absolutelyfool-proof once we--"

 * * * * *

For a long instant Mandleco stood musing. Then he nodded brusquely. "Allright. How long to get going?"

"Why, we'll be ready in forty minutes at the most. I told you I had agood crew, sir! Excuse me--" One of Arnold's techs was motioning to him. "Excuse me, " Arnold said again, and hurried away to consult with theman. 

"Forty minutes!" Mandleco couldn't believe it. He chortled happily, andswung about to greet Beardsley who approached at that moment. "Hearthat, Beardsley? Forty minutes! Excellent man, Arnold. I'm sorry I everdoubted--"

Beardsley wasn't listening. He stared about at the miracle ofreconstruction, and there was more of amazement on his face thandistress. Adjusting his glasses, he gazed thoughtfully at Jeff Arnold'sretreating figure. 

Mandleco was saying, "Just as well your little experiment didn't go anyfurther! Dangerous precedent . .. Don't know what possessed me . .. Yourealize that in the last analysis I'll have to put my faith in ECAIAC!No bad feelings?"

"No, sir, " Beardsley pronounced somberly. "No bad feelings, because I'mholding you to your word. ECAIAC hasn't solved your case and it neverwill. "

Mandleco stood still, open-mouthed. "What's that? Nonsense! Arnold justassured me--"

"He assured you of nothing! I'm more convinced than ever now. I'm theonly one who can solve this case, and I'm holding you to your word. "

Mandleco seemed undecided whether to laugh or censure. His heavy fingersopened and closed aimlessly, as he stared across the room at Arnold andback at Beardsley. Finally his teeth snapped together. "Beardsley, " hechoked--"I warn you, if this is some sort of trickery--"

Beardsley shook his head solemnly. "You'd do well to believe me, sir. Iwas never more serious. "

"So you're determined to go on with it! Very well, Beardsley. You havesomething like forty minutes, and believe me you'd better proveyourself! May I remind you"--fraught with meaning, his voice bordered onanticipation--"may I remind you, Beardsley, that already you've givensufficient cause for a complete review of your qualifications asCoördinator?"

Beardsley looked at him and smiled. "Yes, sir. And may I remind _you_, sir, " he nodded toward the far door, "that your guests have arrived?"

 * * * * *

Mrs. Carmack, Beardsley thought as he watched her, was that rare type ofwoman who could defy all the current conventions of style and carry itoff successfully; her type of beauty was unostentatious and yet vibrant. She was dressed impeccably in black and silver, her hair was authentichoney-blonde in a coronet braid, and her face possessed that pure lineof profile together with the quality of translucence one sees in rareporcelain. .. . Sheila Carmack was thirty-five, and she paid herbeauticians that many thousands annually to keep her looking fifteenyears younger. Just now she seemed in buoyant good spirits as shegreeted Mandleco. 

Not so the young man who accompanied her. The escort was a personBeardsley had never seen before, quite handsome and quite aware of it, with an impudent world-wisdom centered about his sharp eyes. He turnedimmediately to Mandleco with a bluster as phony as it was towering:

"This is an outrage, sir! A damned outrage! On Sheila's behalf I deplorethese tactics, and I question your right! Our entire afternoon perfectlyruined. .. . "

"Correction, darling, " purred Mrs. Carmack. "You mean our perfectafternoon entirely ruined. " She turned smiling to the Minister ofJustice. "You really mustn't mind Victor. "

"Hello, Sheila, " Mandleco greeted her wanly. "I must apologize for theinconvenience, but I assure you--"

"Oh, but this is thrilling! I mean really!" Mrs. Carmack was gazingabout ECAIAC's room with considerable more delight than suspicion, andBeardsley watching her was thinking: _Thrilling! Can she really mean it?She must surely be aware of ECAIAC's task for today--today of alldays. .. . _

 * * * * *

He glanced uneasily down the room, and saw that Jeff Arnold was much toooccupied to have noticed the newcomers. He gestured to Mandleco, whofinally took the hint and escorted the visitors into the privacy of theoffice. 

There Mandleco offered drinks, but the young man named Victor refusedhis, preferring to maintain his air of injured dignity. Mandleco sighedand gave an accusing look at Beardsley. "I know this is unusual, " heapologized to Sheila, "but I--uh--I _am_ rather hopeful that you mayfind it entertaining!" He gave a slight sardonic emphasis to the lastword. "If you'll just bear with me until our other guest arrives. "

Victor had been awaiting his chance. "Another? _Really!_ We're guests, Sheila, do you hear that?" He looked at Mandleco with immense disdain, gave a pert tilt of his head and surveyed the room with a grimace ofdistaste. "And just how long are we to be detained in this--this--"

Beardsley's fist itched to splatter those handsome features around alittle. Instead he strode forward, said bluntly: "That'll do it, sonny!Who the hell are you anyway?"

The handsome face sneered at him. "I am Victor d'Arlan! I am a goodfriend of Sheila's--of the family, " he corrected. "We were on our way tothe Concert when those--those _impertinent_ men detained us. To think wemust forego Perro's Fifth Color-Concerto for Sub-Chromatics in favor of_this_!"

Sheila's eyes danced with tolerant amusement. "Victor, please. Thispromises to be much more exciting; I'm sure Mr. Mandleco knows what heis about, and. .. . " Wide and curious, her gaze went to Beardsley andlingered there. 

Belatedly, Mandleco made introductions. "Perhaps I should explain, " hegave an improvident laugh, "that Mr. Beardsley's role at the momentis--ah--a little beyond the ordinary! That is, I--" He pausedmiserably, and then was saved for the moment as all eyes turned towardthe door. 

Brook Pederson had arrived and the attention of everyone was drawn tohim. 

 * * * * *

The effect was startling. The tele-columnist was a tall, dour andbushy-browed man who took a perverse sort of pride in the impression hegave of shabbiness. He slouched wordlessly into the room, hands thrustdeep in the pockets of a makeshift jacket. But there was nothing shabbyabout the man's perceptive and analytic mind, Beardsley remembered;true, Pederson had fallen from the heights since the ECAIAC debacle, buthis retirement from the limelight was more studied than sullen and couldonly have been his own choosing. Lately he had emerged again, and withall of his old news-sense and political acumen he was making hispresence felt . .. He was a man of considered but lightning mood who, when asked for an opinion invariably gave an argument. 

Beardsley observed him shrewdly. From the depths of his mind came awarning, a restless unease that took root and blossomed into turbulence. _This man will bear special watching. .. . _

Pederson came on into the room, nodded dourly at Mandleco (no love lostthere!) and remained alertly silent; for the merest instant he metBeardsley's gaze, and there was a definite challenge and something ofmockery. _Damn him_, thought Beardsley, _he knows why he's here . .. Buthow could he know? He's aware that he's on the tapes, too--even one ofthe Primes--and he doesn't give a damn!_

Mandleco finished the introductions quickly and took over. It was plainthat he wanted to get through with this, but at the same time Beardsleysensed that he was no longer _quite_ so sure of Jeff Arnold and ECAIAC . .. Above all things, Mandleco had to avoid any hint of trouble with ECAIAC. 

And he managed that with an adroitness that bordered on the cunning. After some glowing comments on Beardsley's past esteemed record--withpointed emphasis on the pre-ECAIAC era--he ended with a trulyinspirational touch:

"Let us just say, then, that you have been invited here in the interestsof an experiment which Crime-Central has been contemplating for sometime. An inquiry into--ah--certain facets of past investigatory methods. Crude as it may seem to you, certain factors may be forthcominghere--psychologic and derivational--which may later be refined, analyzedand integrated into the operational function of ECAIAC. .. . "

Beardsley stared at Mandleco. It was altogether a neat side-step, and healmost admired him for it. 

"Please understand, this is a necessary adjunct to the true developmentof ECAIAC. We shall have here two divergent lines of approach withinparallel fields. Actually, each of you will be an important co-aide inthis experiment! I would like you to cooperate fully with Mr. Beardsley's line of approach. Uh--vintage '60, " he added for theiramusement. 

The reaction was immediate and varied. Victor d'Arlan examined hisfingernails and registered aristocratic boredom. Pederson slouched upagainst the desk, seeming amused at Mandleco's pitch . .. But he wasn'twatching Mandleco. The gaze he fastened on Beardsley said plainer thanwords that he was quite aware of the situation. 

Only Sheila Carmack seemed fascinated, as she sat a bit straighter inher chair and peered brightly across her drink. It was obvious that she, for one, was taken in. 

"Why, I wouldn't have missed it for the world!" she sparkled. "Justlike, you know, in those--what did they call them--_whodunits_? It'sactually thrilling!"

"It's archaic!" d'Arlan sneered. 

"It's heroic, " said Pederson, his gaze still on the little Coördinator. "Beardsley, I hope you pull it off. I actually do. Always did think youwere twice the man ECAIAC is!"

Beardsley moved forward, not smiling. "Thanks, " he said. "In that caseyou won't mind if I begin with you. "

"With _me_?" Pederson stared, then laughed suddenly and without mirth. "Skip it, Beardsley! I know your methods, and I can tell you right nowit won't get you any--"

Beardsley stopped him. "Pederson, " he said, "as of now we agree on justone thing. I also think I'm twice the man. The only difference is thatI'm man enough to _really_ believe it. " He paused and watched him absorbthat. "It's going to be ECAIAC or vintage '60, Pederson. Your choice!"

 * * * * *

It was at once a rebuff and a challenge. Pederson then straightened upslowly, a muscle in his face flinched and then he smiled--with all buthis eyes. "All right, " he snapped, "we'll begin with me. I'll fill youin plenty! You want to know if I saw Carmack the day of the murder? Idid! The louse put through a vis call to me. _Insisted_ I come out andsee him--"

"Whoa, now just a minute! You wouldn't say this was a friendly visit?"

"I'll get to that!" Pederson's words came fast and clipped. "You knowhow I fought the ECAIAC lobby. I fought it long and hard, and when Ilost it finished me with the public. But I wasn't through! I begandigging up every fact I could about Carmack. Took me a few years, butworth it. Most of it smelled! Ask Professor Losch, he'll tell you--"

"I've already spoken with Losch, " Beardsley said quietly. "He managed toconvey his sentiments pretty thoroughly. "

"Good. Then try talking to _him_, " Pederson nodded venomously at_Mandleco_. "Ask Mandleco how the great Carmack managed to get thosepatents through. .. . I can tell you he didn't do it alone! Oh, I've dugplenty!"

"Why, you--" Mandleco gave a snort of anger and started forward, butBeardsley managed to forestall him. He gazed sternly at thetele-columnist. 

"I think we're all aware of your considerable talent for digging, Pederson. ECAIAC, too, " he added pointedly, "for we already have it onthe tapes. "

Pederson bristled. "Sure. Sure, you have it! My past connection, myopposition to the lobby, even my digging maybe. But you don't have itall! How do you equate _hate_, Beardsley? Is _that_ on your tapes?"

Beardsley could have told him that it was, indeed, on the tapes. But heonly shook his head. "No, " he said slowly, "we don't have it all. NotECAIAC nor I nor any of us, and that's the eternal pity of it. But I'dlike to try! The sum and the substance, Pederson . .. Don't youunderstand me? Just once before I'm through--"

 * * * * *

It was the voice, some secret and subtle thing in the voice that reachedout and gripped Pederson and bore meaning with it. He stood quitemotionless, staring at Beardsley; for a split second his eyes widened, then disbelief gave way to something of comprehension, admiration. 

"Beardsley, " he said softly. "You fool. You utter damned fool!"

Oblivious of the others, then, he turned and began to pace. "All right. Here it is. Carmack called me out to see him. He had gotten wind of whatI was up to, and offered to buy me off. " Pederson laughed bitterly. "Wasn't even subtle about it! Said he liked my stuff, and would like tosee me at the top again where I belonged. Said he could arrange for meto step into a top job at Central Telecast. Providing, of course, Icould manage to--ah--'forget' certain little items I'd uncovered. "

 * * * * *

Pederson was doing all right. Beardsley gave him his lead. 

"He actually thought it would be that simple! I refused him outright, and of course, he couldn't believe it. A man like that--We dropped allpretense, there were some bitter words--"

Beardsley said quickly, "Could you elaborate?"

"Oh, I don't remember exactly. He went venomous! I suppose there werethreats. I told him he hadn't enough money _or_ influence to buy what Iknew, and that when I had it properly documented I intended to make anational scandal of it. " Pederson halted abruptly. "You know, itoccurred to me later that was a foolhardy thing to say!"

"Ah? Why is that?"

"Well, I had heard of that safeguard of his--the 'neuro-vibe'--and Isuppose there were other things, too. He was a cautious man, a dangerousman. But, " Pederson shrugged, "he let me into his home readily enough. "

Beardsley lifted a finger. "Because he was confident he was going to buyyou--wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose that's it. Maybe I was lucky to get out of there so easily!Anyway I did. " Pederson stopped pacing, and his gaze bored intoBeardsley's. "So now to the big question. Yes, he was alive when I lefthim. No, I never saw Carmack again. I went straight to my office andworked until well past midnight; by the way, I have ample proof ofthat--"

"Yes, I'm sure you do! What were your feelings at this point?"

"My feelings? I knew my life was in danger now! Carmack would be out tostop me. I don't mind admitting I was . .. Well, rather relieved, when Iheard the news. "

"Ah-h! And when did you hear it?"

Pederson glared, but his answer was quick. "Late the next afternoon, ofcourse! By habit I work late hours and I sleep long. " With an air offinality he threw a challenging look around. "I want to congratulatewhoever did it, and I don't much care whether the answer comes from youor ECAIAC!"

Beardsley surveyed him solemnly. Pederson had little more than brushedthe surface, but it was enough, it served to set the pattern; he couldhave sworn Pederson was aware of that. He said drily, "Thanks, Pederson. Your story is--very pat. "

 * * * * *

He turned to the others. Mandleco rather surprised him, seeming not somuch disturbed as he was engrossed deep in thought; as for Mrs. Carmack, Beardsley saw that the comedy had gone out of it for her, but she triedto keep up the veneer. 

"This is all most interesting!" she sparkled, placing her glass downcarefully and turning to face him. "Am I to be next, Mr. Beardsley?Shall I give both the questions and the answers as Mr. Pederson did?"

"No, Mrs. Carmack. I'll do that! I took note a moment ago that youmentioned the _whodunits_. You must be familiar with them? Say as ahobby?"

It wasn't at all what she expected. She stood wide-eyed and startled. 

"This is so thrilling, remember. Vintage '60! As the _whodunits_ willtell you, one of the prime requisites is an accounting and proof of yourwhereabouts at the time of the deed! Well?"

Beardsley's voice was just edged enough to throw her into confusion. "Why, I--" she faltered. "You mean that night? I--I--"

"What, no alibi? You don't even remember? According to vintage '60 thatcould mean either complete innocence or extreme cunning; beware thesuspect who is clever enough to be ready with no alibi!"

Beardsley saw her stiffen; there was a change across her face, astruggle beneath the eyes. "But then, " he shrugged, "it has always beenmy conviction that _motive_ rather than opportunity is the realrequisite. On that basis it's plain you couldn't have killed yourhusband. You loved him! He was only fifty-eight, he only left you adozen million dollars, but you loved him and you were faithful! Anyonecan see that after seven weeks you're still all broken up over it!"

The veneer was gone now; Sheila Carmack's eyes were vicious pools ofhate, her mouth a grimace. "Why, you--you ridiculous little monster!"Victor d'Arlan stepped forward belligerently. "Say, now look here! Thisis all very--" Beardsley placed a hand on d'Arlan's chest and shoved, and the latter stumbled back with mouth agape. Pederson was gazing atBeardsley with delight and admiration, seeming to visualize this littleman as material for his next tele-column. Mandleco stood transfixed, amonument of agony, twisting a fist into his palm. "Beardsley, stop it!This ridiculous farce has gone far enough! I warned you about thesetactics--"

Beardsley said, "Shut up!" and Mandleco stood there with mouth openingand closing soundlessly. 

"Well, Mrs. Carmack? Answer me! You loved your husband, didn't you? Forthe past ten minutes you've heard him maligned; I should think you'dwant to protect his very good name!"

"Sheila, I must advise you against making _any_ statement of whatevernature!" Mandleco strode for the tele-stat, then turned back and pointeda trembling finger at Beardsley. "This man, " he choked--"this man is nolonger acting in any official capacity for Crime-Central!"

With a quick step Pederson got himself between Mandleco and thetele-stat; he strolled over to the instrument and leaned against it, with a knowing look at Beardsley. 

Sheila Carmack tilted her chin in defiance. "But I _wish_ to answer thisman. I insist on answering! Loved Amos Carmack? Love him?" Her voicerose a full octave and broke in stridence. "For the past nine years Ihave _hated--his--guts_!"

 * * * * *

For a long moment the room was silent. No one moved. Beardsley's thickglasses glinted eerily as he peered around at them, from Mandleco toSheila to Pederson and back to Mandleco. 

"Well now, " he said, "this is remarkable. Most remarkable! Everyonehated Carmack. Professor Losch--we know why. Pederson here--he's told uswhy. His wife--I think it's obvious. Who else? Surely not you, Mandleco!Carmack was a pal of yours! You backed his cause with ECAIAC, youlobbied for him, you even stole patents for him. .. . I wonder whatpersuasion he held over you to bring all that about. Or is _persuasion_too mild a word? Vintage '60 had a better term for it!"

Slowly, through the murk of his agitation Mandleco seized a measure ofcontrol; he gazed at Beardsley out of cold incalculable eyes now hoodedwith dire intention. "You're really trying hard, aren't you!" he grated. "Well, make the most of it, because I guarantee _you_ won't be around, not after the next Annual Basic! Do you understand that--_Mister_Coördinator?"

But Beardsley was watching Pederson now, whose face took on a suddenfebrile gleam. "Blackmail . .. By God, Beardsley, that's it! And I havethe proof! Sure, it was Carmack I was after, but I dug out a lot more--"Pederson shot a challenging look at the Minister of Justice. "It goesback some years, but I can prove that Amos Carmack had enough onMandleco to _finish him politically any time he chose_. You can bet yourlife Mandleco hated him. Enough to warrant murder!"

There was an odd, illogical delight in the way Pederson said it--andsomething almost frightening the way Mandleco just stood there in coldsilence, gazing at the tele-columnist with a look of boundless regret. 

Beardsley said very softly, "Thanks, Pederson, but I'd suggest you saveit. It's scarcely pertinent now. "

"Not pertinent? But, man, I tell you I have proof! What better motivewould you--"

"Motive?" Beardsley hit him with a pitying glance. "Why, I thought itwas obvious. We've progressed beyond _motives_ now. "

Again there was an electric silence, and Beardsley let it assimilate. "Ihave said, " he went on, "that all this is most remarkable. But you know, the _really_ remarkable thing--" He paused and watched them. Mandlecocontinued to grind a fist into his palm; Pederson straightenedattentively, and d'Arlan, sneery no longer, moved over to stand besideSheila Carmack. 

"--the really remarkable thing is this. I am now ready to state, unequivocally, that the person who killed Amos Carmack . .. _didn't hatehim at all_. "

 * * * * *

A thought was throbbing through the room like the seconds passing. Quickand cumulative, almost embodied, it made transition from stunned mindto startled mind as Beardsley stood there blinking at them. Beardsleyreally didn't mind; they just couldn't know how subtly he worked intohis themes! Taking advantage of the lull, he went over to the door andpeered out into the Operations Room. 

He peered long and soberly, then turned. Mandleco had found his voicefirst, perplexity pushing down his anger: "Beardsley, either you'rebereft of your senses or--Do you mean to say, " he choked--"after goingto these preposterous lengths do you mean to say that no one _here_--"

"Just a moment!" To everyone's surprise it was d'Arlan who broke in. "I'm not sure what's going on here, not sure at all, but I want to makeone thing quite clear. _Sheila_ had no complicity in this crime! I know, because--" He hesitated, touched her gently on the arm. "Sorry, darling, I've got to say it. I know because she was with _me_ that night. "

Sheila was startled for a moment, then utterly scathing. "You needn'tlie for me, Victor! I appreciate your sense of the dramatic, and evenyour motives, but I assure you they are both misplaced. I have neverheard such nonsense!"

d'Arlan looked more desolate than abashed. As for Beardsley, he was onlya little amused. "Well, now, this is really more than I deserve; in allmy years on Homicide I wanted to experience this, but I finally put itdown as a myth. The Noble Alibi!" He peered sharply. "True vintage, right out of the _whodunits_--wouldn't you agree, Mrs. Carmack?"

The answer didn't come, and Beardsley went on sternly: "And you rejecthis noble attempt on your behalf. That is interesting! Especially, as itoccurs to me that d'Arlan's effort is just a little delayed. .. . " Hepaused, gazing thoughtfully upward. "It's enough to make one wonderwhether his noble effort is designed to protect you--or himself!"

d'Arlan suddenly paled, as if he had just been kicked in the stomach. Hegulped heavily and tried to speak. Beardsley watched stolidly for amoment, then dismissed him with a gesture of complete disgust. "Oh, hell, never mind! I would say neither. The lady is right, sonny, you'dbetter watch those impulses. You just aren't the type!"

 * * * * *

Mandleco had been hanging onto every word, grimly intent; he was sureBeardsley was getting somewhere at last. Now he straightened, and hisgrinding fist indicated that he'd had quite enough. Without a word, without even a deigning glance at Beardsley, he traversed the officewith great purposeful strides and slammed through the outer door intoECAIAC's room--

And was back an instant later, trailing Jeff Arnold as the latterbrushed past him into the office. Mandleco was saying somethingurgently, tugging at Arnold's arm. Arnold ignored him. His startled gazewas on the little group. 

"Sheila!" He took a step forward. "Sheila, what are _you_ doing here?"

"I wish you'd tell me, Jeff. I wish _someone_ would explain what this isall about. .. . "

Beardsley watched the tableau in silence. Jeff Arnold's gaze flicked tod'Arlan, who stared back with insolence, and there was no mistaking thehostility that leaped between the two. 

Sheila noticed it, too, and there was an indecisive moment that mountedtoward panic. Beardsley watched her churning effort to control it. Shesaid quickly, an inflection of fear in her voice: "Mr. Beardsley, if it_really_ matters--my whereabouts that night--you'll understand myreluctance to say it before! I was with Jeff. Truly! I'm sure he willtell you--"

The words were directed at Beardsley, but she was talking to JeffArnold. And deliberately, almost brutally, Arnold refused to accept thecue. Beardsley saw the pleading turn to apprehension in Sheila's eyes. 

"But, Jeff, you remember! Surely you do! Jeff, you don't understand--youmust tell them--"

 * * * * *

Arnold looked at her for a single comprehending instant, a pityinginstant, then his lips compressed tightly as he turned away. 

There was finality in it. Sheila's eyes were stark and unbelieving. Shestood there without motion, without a word, her mind groping in a shockof blindness. 

Beardsley said gently, "It's all right, Mrs. Carmack. It's really allright. Merely an experiment, an inquiry into comparative methods asMandleco said. I'm truly sorry if my methods seemed harsh, but"--heshrugged--"I dare say my participation is over now. "

"You're damned right you may say it, Beardsley!" Arnold's eyes raked himwith venom, but he controlled himself and turned to Mandleco. "I onlycame to tell you, sir, that we have ECAIAC ready. We'll be reachingCumulative very shortly now. "

"Jeff . .. Are you _sure_?"

"Quite sure! Depend on it, there'll be no more trouble. "

More than relief took hold of Mandleco; it was transformation, it was asif a spell had been snapped. He glanced once about the room, andshuddered as his gaze encountered Beardsley. 

"Uh--yes. Fine!" he said. "That's fine, Jeff! Shall we proceed?" Hestrode through the door, pausing only to fling back scathingly: "Thatis, if Mr. Beardsley is quite sure it meets with _his_ approval!"

 * * * * *

ECAIAC was in finest fettle again as the tapes sped through. Circuitswere activated. Codes gave meaning. Synaptic cells summed andintegrated, cancelled and compared and with saucy assurance sent thefindings on toward Cumulative. The murmur was soft and sustained andsomehow apologetic, as if ECAIAC were quite aware that she had failed inher duty but would be just pleased to make amends _this_ time. 

So like a woman . .. Fractious, unfathomable, then fawning andattrite--with a purpose! Beardsley cocked his head and listened, hismien almost beatific. Purpose? This creature had none that could quitematch his! He was convinced of it now, and he had never been more happyor self-assured. 

It was Pederson who was distressed, as he paced with long nervousstrides and watched the equate-panel where the mathematics were madevisible in a pattern of constantly changing lights. It had meaning onlyfor the techs, but Pederson couldn't seem to take his eyes from it. Atlast he came over to Beardsley and managed to steer him aside. 

"Beardsley, I just don't get it! This whole thing--are you quite sure--"

Beardsley blinked at him. "Sure of what, Pederson?"

"Of what you're doing! Damn it, man, don't tell me that was all wasteeffort in there! Look--I know what this means, and I'm with you all theway. If only you could beat ECAIAC, I'll give it all the publicity itcan bear! Who knows--"

Beardsley looked at him blankly, and Pederson gave a snort and agesture. "All right! I guess I'm wrong. For a while there I actuallythought you had it. " Pederson surveyed him shrewdly. "Just the same, that bit you exploded--about the person who killed Carmack didn't hatehim at all--you meant that, Beardsley!"

"That's right, I meant it. "

"My choice is Jeff Arnold. "

"Ah? Now why do you say that?"

"The way you built up to it, that's why. And you got your result! SheilaCarmack's in love with Arnold, and she tried to cover up for him . .. Sure, that's it! It's obvious! She thinks he's the killer, either thinksor knows it--"

"Ah, yes. The obvious, " Beardsley said with a grimace. "But you know, Ilearned a long time ago that the _obvious_ can be a mighty tricky thing. A dangerous thing. The forceps of the mind are greedy, and inclined tocrush a little in the seizing. .. . "

Pederson pondered that. "And you, " he said slowly, "are not seizing. Itake that to mean you still have an angle!"

Beardsley didn't answer at once. He glanced over at the equate-panel, atthe flux of dancing lights. Mandleco was bright-eyed and attentive, chomping on the stub of a cigar, head thrust forward as he listened tosome detail of Arnold's. Sheila stood miserably near by, still in ablind shock of disbelief; it was as if she had a need to be close toArnold, and he felt it, too, but they dared not look at each other. 

 * * * * *

"Now let's suppose, " said Beardsley, "just suppose that Arnold thinks_Sheila_ is the killer. Eh? Let us say they _suspect each other_. Naturally, each has disclaimed any part of the deed. But the suspicionis there, that tiny seed; and suspicion, particularly where love isinvolved, has a habit of taking root and giving growth. Neither can be_totally_ sure of the other's innocence--eh?" He paused, peering up atPederson. "And Arnold would want to protect her from any possibleconsequence. Now what would be his way of doing that? The only way heknew?"

He saw the idea take hold. Pederson was staring at the equate-panel withan odd look of excitement. 

"Total reject, " he gasped. "By God, if he should try _that_--to equateher from Logical into reject--" He gestured helplessly. "No, it isn'tpossible. Those tapes are coded! There's no way of tampering--" Pedersonstopped abruptly, as a great light dawned. "Wait a minute, though. Itneedn't be the tapes! One thing I've always wondered--_would_ it bepossible to negate a given factor beyond all reach of empiricalcoördinates? You know, through operational technique or setup--"

Beardsley peered at him. "I'd say anything was possible, " he urged, "given time and incentive. "

Pederson bobbed his head in facile agreement. "By God, you're right! Forexample, I've always thought there wasn't sufficient control onCumulative! You can bet your life Arnold would know . .. Results at thatpoint _could_ be juggled a little, say if the extrapolations werejust--"

The forceps, the forceps of the mind. Already Pederson was reaching outto seize and to crush; the man was a fool after all! Beardsley felt aburgeoning disgust, but there was something more, a throbbing, chest-filling sensation that he strove to hold rigidly in leash. He saidquickly: "Come to think of it, Arnold did mention that he was here mostof last night, working on setup. "

He watched Pederson absorb that, too; he saw the excitement grow. "Beardsley, if you are _sure_--if you could prove that Arnold managed athing like that--"

They were interrupted by the sudden quiet that engulfed the room. It wasso total as to be frightening. CUMULATIVE--CUMULATIVE--CUMULATIVE. Forhalf-a-minute all operation ceased, as the words flashed bright acrossthe panel. 

But the techs had been waiting. It was a mere respite. Swiftly, theychecked their respective units against Cumulative Code, and at the endof thirty seconds every light went green for total clearance as ECAIAC'sdeep-throated power resumed. 

 * * * * *

Beardsley had been waiting too. "Cumulative!" he breathed. He let hisbreath out slowly, and made a sweeping gesture that seemed to encompassall the latent delight, all the unleashed joy of his being. 

He was aware of Pederson again, a voice in panic: "Beardsley! Don't youknow what it means? If there's been an imbalance, it has passed through!It will reach final equate!"

"That's right, it's entirely in ECAIAC's lap. You wouldn't want todeprive her of the chance, now would you?"

"But--but what are you going to _do_?"

"Me? I'm going to watch. I'm going to watch one of the epic events ofour time--" For a moment Beardsley was solemn, almost shocked, as athought struck him. "In a way it will be sad. Yes, it will! ECAIAC isabout to lose her first case. "

Now that was strange. Why should he have said such a thing? _Why . .. Nowthat the game was over which had had to be played, and he felt thebitter-sweet surge of victory that lay throbbing at his grasp!_ About tolose her first case. .. . 

He shrugged in remote annoyance and strode away from Pederson. It wouldbe fast now! Already the rejects were falling, the irrelevants, asECAIAC with blithe unconcern brought the final equate toward conclusion. He observed Jeff Arnold, standing silent and alert but so devoid of allemotion that somehow it wasn't real . .. And Mandleco, half crouched, teeth gnawing away at the cigar, his heavy face rapacious and eager ashe awaited the final tape; that was all that mattered now; theMATHEMATICS would register, CODE would add synaptic approval, and proofindisputable would be on that tape in clean translated print--the nameof Carmack's killer. 

Indisputable? Bowing his head, Beardsley smiled, and listened to thesmooth rhythmic control. Nothing sinister now! No snapping malevolence!All those other times . .. His unreasoning panic, the askance remarksfrom Arnold, the humiliation . .. The very thought of it now was gibingand obscene. How could he ever have been caught up in such a thrall ofterror?

It wasn't terror he felt now. Something. .. . His smile turned to a giggleas he felt a sudden compelling impulse to pat ECAIAC on the head!

 * * * * *

Now how would one do THAT? Never mind. Never mind, never mind, neveragain are you going to snap at _me_, Ekky. We were introduced, remember?We're really great friends now. 

For a moment Beardsley was suspended in astonishment, aware that he hadalmost crooned the thought. He glanced around in embarrassment--

Pederson was watching him. Pederson was at his side again, perplexed andfrowning. "Beardsley--this business of Sheila and Arnold. It wouldn'thappen that way, it couldn't! There's another answer, there's _got_ tobe--"

Beardsley stood unmoving, oblivious. Almost, he seemed suspended inanother dimension; almost, he caught the quivering of a mind but couldnot separate it from the sudden tremor that rose in his own. .. . 

He couldn't avoid it. It came unbidden, it battered through his reason, it towered there and blotted out his thoughts until all that was leftwas a tremulous regret, an attrite compassion. 

About to lose her first case . .. _but one loses! And one survives it, you know, one survives it! For twelve years now. .. . _

 * * * * *

More than a tremor now. More than compassion now. A sense of betrayalalmost, illogical and nameless and yet palpable as the scent of fear. There was a pulse of red darkness in Beardsley's brain as all the mentaland emotional equations of his being sang a sharp alarm. For subtly, ever so subtly ECAIAC's deep-throated tone had changed . .. Nothing likethose other times, rather it was a halting stutter of puzzlement, erratic and querulous, with overtones of immediacy as if some formlesspresence were on the verge of unleashing. 

Beardsley looked down at his hands, and they were trembling. He couldnot stop the trembling. A tightness took him about the heart, and behindhis eyes that pulse of red darkness presaged the beginning of a violentheadache. 

Even the others noticed it now, something amiss. Jeff Arnold especially. He looked up in quick alarm at the equate-panel where the mathematicsseemed to have gone a little fitful, a little frantic, with stutterylapses in progression as if ECAIAC were unable or unwilling to confront. 

The flux of pattern dimmed, then hesitated; blanked out and heroicallybegan anew. 

It happened suddenly, then. It happened as the techs came crowdingaround. There came a quivering, a sort of shudder, and ECAIAC subsidedwith a final weary gasp. It was for all the world as if she were saying, "This is it, boys. I've had it!"

But it was there, it was there! All at once every symbol was constant, static and livid upon the screen, enhanced by the wordsEQUATE--COMPLETE--EQUATE--COMPLETE. In that moment every tech in theroom must have felt a touch of pride. 

A click, a whirr, and it was done. The fateful tape ejected. 

Both Mandleco and Arnold leaped for it, but Arnold was there first. Heripped the tape clear and then paused, hand outflung, as if he could notresist this final bit of drama. 

"Well? Well, Arnold?" Mandleco was hopping ludicrously about in an agonyof impatience. 

Arnold nodded. He brought the tape to his scrutiny. His mouth opened, then shut again as a shudder seized him. Once more he read it, a look ofwild disbelief on his face . .. He staggered, and seemed about to cry orgo hysterical or both. 

Mandleco gave a snort as he pounced, recovered the tape and with bluntassurance read the words aloud:

"SOLUTION : UNTENABLE : SOLUTION : UNTENABLE : SUB-CIRCUIT REFERRAL :ELLERY SHERLOCK : SUB-CIRCUIT REFERRAL: ELLERY SHERLOCK--"

He sounded like a well-grooved parrot. Mandleco turned east, then south, then south-by-east, like a compass on a binge; he looked as if he wantedto roar, but his voice came out as a frantic bleat: "Why, this is crazy!Goddam it, it's crazy! Do you realize what this will--" He confrontedArnold wildly. "What the hell does it MEAN, I say! Untenable? And whothe hell is _Ellery Sherlock. .. !_"

He got no response; Jeff Arnold was oblivious to the moment, a manutterly defeated, beyond solace or action or answer . .. But already afew of his techs were huddled about the panel, consulting, viewing theEquate Constant and frantically taking notes. Mandleco shoved his waythrough them. "I demand to know the meaning of this!" he yelped. 

 * * * * *

It was Sheila Carmack who answered, her voice on the high edge ofhysteria. "_Meaning?_ I think it might mean, " she said, "that ECAIAC hasalso had a recent indulgence for the _whodunits_. But with a smatteringof confusion, wouldn't you say? Or would you say a distortion of thedetectival? Perhaps a disenchantment, " she murmured . .. This was tooabsurd, too delicious. "Ellery Sherlock!" she choked, and the thought ofit seemed to break her up. 

In the general hysteria they paid no heed to Raoul Beardsley. He hadregained his composure, and far down in his eyes something leaped intorapt expression; he adjusted his glasses and peered around cautiously, beaming. He beamed at them all, and had to suppress an inane glee. .. . 

Not glee as he observed Pederson, who stood there scowling into spaceas though at some incredible absurdity. Suddenly Pederson straightened, and there was something strangely different . .. His gaze as it metBeardsley's was neither shocked nor accusing but held an expression ofboundless sadness. 

_So Pederson knew. At last the poor fellow had found that otheranswer. .. . _ Beardsley had been expecting it. He could almost sense theman's thoughts going to and fro, like a shuttle, weaving all the factsinto fabric. .. . 

And Pederson's voice, ineffably sad now, regretful now: "So I was rightthe first time. The tapes. It _was_ the tapes. But even without that Iought to have known! The answer was there, you handed it to us, but itwas like looking straight into the sun--"

He paused. Did he expect Beardsley to say something? Beardsley looked upat him and blinked. 

 * * * * *

"_Motives_, " Pederson said accusingly. "There was your theme from thefirst! You were relentless, you pursued it to perfection, you laid ourmotives bare and you beat them raw, each and every one. Oh, I grant youit was masterful! It was the Beardsley of old! You managed to keep usoff balance every moment--" He wet his lips. "What was it, Beardsley? Acompulsion, some grotesque need to squeeze us all down to microscopicsize first? Oh, you enjoyed doing that! I watched you. You enjoyed it ina way that--" He shook his head, glanced sorrowfully at theequate-panel. "And this . .. Was it all for this? An achievement--anabsurdity. Ellery Sherlock!" he said with a shudder. "In Heaven's name, WHY? You didn't really expect to carry it off? No, don't answer! It'snot important now--"

Beardsley shrugged in remote annoyance. Must the man use such puerilemethods?

"Not important, " Pederson repeated, and stood caught in a startledwonderment. "Because you see, Beardsley, I just happen to remembersomething from the _whodunits_! That surprises you? So long ago, I can'tquite recall who said it; but it was a rather good exposition of logic, something to the effect that when you've exhausted the possible, all thepossible--that which remains--_no matter how impossible it mayseem_--must be the truth!"

His head lifted; his gaze bored into Beardsley's and his voice wastight with meaning. "And I'd say we have come full circle, wouldn't you?You will have to admit, you did a _real good job of eliminating_!"

Beardsley managed to smile, even as his mind jarred a little. Even as hemet Pederson's gaze and saw the compassion there, the acceptance there, the understanding and boundless regret. For a split second somethingleaped unspoken between them, as if doors in both their minds had openedand closed again. 

He turned away wordlessly. Close as Pederson had come, even he was anirrelevance now. _But ECAIAC didn't_ know. Poor Ekky! Her first realfailure, a fiasco--she really deserved a better fate. Beardsley's heartwent out to her, as he observed Arnold in his defeat and Mandleco in hisfrustration and the huddle of techs in their futile efforts. 

Suddenly then--"Code!" he heard one of them say, gesturing excitedly. "Post-subjective synapse!" another tech yelled, and there was a suddenscurry of activity about the screen. Without warning or appreciablereason those symbols had begun to shift . .. Wild and elusive, ghostpatterns without semblance or sense, but so unmistakable that even JeffArnold was jarred alert; Arnold stared, then suddenly was white as chalkas he ploughed into the midst of his techs. 

Beardsley stood frozen, a fatuous smile about his lips; there was onlysilence now, a silence that had a pulse in it--the beating of his heart. Seconds only . .. Suddenly there was another pulse, from another heart. ECAIAC wasn't quite finished! Unerring and resolute the sound came up, slowly at first and then faster, gathering strength into a steady droneas if every synapse were dredging, dredging deep into the sensitizedstructure . .. And even before the panel attained flux again, a tech waswaving his notes and yelling, "It's true! Post-subjective synapse!Unbelievable . .. Jeff, we now have a Constant!"

But ECAIAC was telling them that. The sound went on, and on, wild andlone and constant, ascending to the confines of the room, transcendingthe confines of reason. It was crescendo incarnate; it was purpose gonerife; it was human and more than human, with all the fears and hopes andhates, as it attained a high-pitched scream with wailing overtones suchas even Arnold had never heard. There was sentience in it, there wasawareness in it, there was fury in it and who could say if there wasgrief. .. ? There might have been. 

Only Beardsley knew. He felt suddenly packed in ice, from his lips tothe pit of his belly; he revolved slowly away, took a few steps andcaught the edge of the panel. His whole body began to shakeuncontrollably and his lips moved in a soundless whisper that seemed tosay, "No, no . .. Don't you understand? . .. We're friends now!"

But no one heard; no one would have understood. Arnold handled the tapeas it came looping out. The words fell slowly at first, then faster andfaster in constant repeat: CANCEL LAST EQUATE--SOLUTION TENABLE--CANCELLAST EQUATE--SOLUTION TENABLE--

Another word came, a single word. Arnold stiffened. One of the techs wasso indiscreet as to exclaim: "_Murderer?_ Where did it pick up thatword! 'Final Equate' is proper. .. . "

A space, a whirr, and the rest of it came in a clicking rush against thehigh-pitched scream: MURDERER--RAOUL BEARDSLEY--MURDERER--RAOULBEARDSLEY--MURDERER--RAOUL--MURDERER--MURDERER--incessant, untiring. 

 * * * * *

There was no trial. Trial presupposes a modicum of doubt, and Beardsleydispelled that readily enough. Once more the pathetic figure, it was asif he were impelled by a dull and pitiless logic; he waived all defense;his confession to the murder of Amos Carmack was straightforward andfactual, unvarying to the point of boredom, insistent withrepetition--and in the socio-legal aspect there was the rub! Whether itwas true psychic shock or mere cunning, there seemed to be a blind spotin Beardsley's responses, a stumbling reticence to elaborative detailthat left the Citizen's Disposition Council with a problem on its handsbaffling as it was unprecedented. Judicially they were safe. There wouldnot even be need of null-censor. But actually, the problem here was offar more vital consequence than murder and indeed more frightening; ithad to do with Beardsley _vs. _ ECAIAC, the encompassing _modus operendi_and all the implications of that grotesque denouement. 

At whatever cost, _these things had to be answered_. 

Oh, there was amusement, too. The fact that Minister-of-JusticeMandleco had begged off, far from gracefully, and retired to theisolation of his ten-thousand-acre Alaskan ranch (for an unspecifiedtime) had brought snickers from those in the know. 

The Chief-Counselor of Disposition looked as if he'd like to retire, too. For the third time in as many days he took his place in the PrivateSessions chamber, glanced at Beardsley with shuddering disbelief andthen bent his head in pontifical guise as he leafed through his notes;it wasn't as if he were unversed in the matter by now, but who was thereto question if his lips moved fretfully across the words "EllerySherlock?" He was thinking: _yesterday wasted--covert regression, myselfincluded--no more of that_! And with that bolstering thought he broughthis head up sharply. 

COUNSELOR: Our task for today--(_voice quavering, he saved it from theupper registers_). Our task for today is to get at the aggregatepattern. And I assure you, gentlemen, we are going to do that! Now. Mr. Pederson, if you please. .. . 

PEDERSON: Yes, sir?

COUNSELOR: I see that Mr. Beardsley made certain statements to you, andto you alone, immediately after the--uh--ECAIAC incident--

PEDERSON: You saw that three days ago! Must we go through it again?

COUNSELOR: We must and we shall! Due to the unnatural tenor of the case, it is the opinion of the Council that these things must be fixed andadjudged if we are to make a correct Disposition. 

PEDERSON: (_wearily_): Yes, sir. Well, the fact is he seemed to want toconfide in me. Nothing strange in that! He realized he had lost, poorguy, and he--

COUNSELOR: Mr. Pederson! No diversions, please. We'd simply like to hearfrom your own lips what Beardsley told you. (Glances at his notes. ) Isit true that he said--his sole motive in this affair was to prove hecould conduct an investigation as efficiently as ECAIAC--_or any damnedmachine_?

PEDERSON: (_hesitant, with a glance at Beardsley who sat remote andvacuous_): Yes. He told me that. 

COUNSELOR: Even to the point of committing a murder to prove it? And hisentire subsequent action was predicated upon that? We have extensivereports here--from Mrs. Carmack, from Mandleco, from Jeff Arnold andyourself. It is difficult to see how such a basically integrated andwell-functioning personality as Raoul Beardsley--

PEDERSON: (_angrily_): No. What you fail to see is the facade! What manhas stronger reason than the man who has lost his reason? It is the onlyoutlet for aggression, a devious fulfillment, it brings psychologicalsatisfactions which cannot be obtained in any other way--call it theself-destructive impulse if you will. I doubt if Beardsley rationalizedthis--but he had come to his moment, his time of assertion, his way ofmaking fools of us all . .. And my complete opinion, sir, is that hisactions from beginning to end were both a triumph and an inspiration!

COUNSELOR: (_smugly_): Thank you, Mr. Pederson. These are the insightsyou had not revealed before. (_Turns to member at far end of table. _)Dr. Deobler. As psychologist assigned to Disposition Council, may I askif there is an area of concurrence?

DEOBLER (_bored, but deigns to lift a hand_): Save for the rhetorics atthe very end, you have my official concurrence; it is obvious in everyaspect; this was a devious fulfillment of the self-destructive impulse. 

COUNSELOR: Thank you, sir! It will be so noted. And now--(_Makes apretense of scanning his brief. _) Now we come to an area of vitalinterest--an area demanding our most urgent attention, inasmuch as itgives indication of threatening our basic fundamental of cyberneticdetection; believe me, I cannot place enough emphasis here; I refer, ofcourse, to Mr. Beardsley's process of manipulation of ECAIAC, and thisstrange business of "Ellery Sherlock. " (_Pause. _) Mr. Jeff Arnold, ifyou please. I believe you were to be ready with some observations today?

ARNOLD: Yes, sir. But more than observation, I am glad to report. Wehave _solved_ the "Ellery Sherlock" equate. 

COUNSELOR: This is wonderful! Will you proceed, sir?

ARNOLD: A strange thing . .. And yet so simple! We began by resurrectinga huge number of "Summaries"; we dredged into Dead File for at leastthree years back, re-ran them under a synapse intensifier. It's allthere, you know, every minute particle of every case that has gonethrough ECAIAC; almost subliminal, some of it, but--

COUNSELOR: One moment, sir. This reference to "synapse. " Couldyou--ah--clarify?

ARNOLD: Why, a synapse is the primary adjunct to memory! The human brainhas billions of them, neuronically linked--sort of pathways that getgrooved deeper and deeper with constant repetition of thought, untilafter a while they become completely permanent, retentive andself-functioning. ECAIAC is similarly equipped--not to the degree of thehuman brain, as yet, but amazingly. 

COUNSELOR (_dazed_): Ah--yes. Please continue, sir. 

ARNOLD: As I said, we revived a number of the old cases. And what wediscovered, was that Beardsley--for years past, mind you--had beenutilizing his capacity as Chief of Coördinates to introduce extraneousmaterial to ECAIAC _via_ the tapes! In each and every case that camebefore him! Oh, you can believe me, he was clever, he went about it byslow and subtle degrees! And the substance of this material, sir--(_Pauses, gulps and shakes his head, unable to go on. _)

COUNSELOR: Please control yourself, sir! The substance of thisextraneous material?

ARNOLD (_again gulps_): De-detective fiction!

COUNSELOR (_leans forward sharply_): Do I understand you correctly, Mr. Arnold? You did say _detective fiction_?

ARNOLD: Of two types. Ellery Queen and Sherlock Holmes--I presume it wasBeardsley's random choice. But there was nothing random about hispurpose! Don't you see, don't you see, it all fits! It explains thetrouble we were having in recent months in getting total synapticclearance! (_His voice borders on the frantic. _) I remember, now, I evenmentioned this to Beardsley--and oh, the smug way he took it. He knew, damn him, he knew! He was getting there, he was reaching the synaptic, abit of fiction here and a bit there, ECAIAC was being conditioned, unable to distinguish the real from the unreal--

COUNSELOR: Mr. Arnold! If you please, sir! (_Waits for Arnold tosubside. _) I can appreciate how this discovery distresses you, both--ah--personally and in your official capacity, but be assured thatyour findings will be of inestimable value to future security. In fact(_smiles slightly_) Council has not been idle in its own pursuit of Mr. Beardsley's vagaries! (_Rises, removes a small screen to reveal atowering pile of tomes. _) And now, Mr. Beardsley. I must really ask youto cooperate; I believe you fully capable. Are these your books?

BEARDSLEY (_adjusts his glasses, smiles at his books_): Yes. 

COUNSELOR: And these charts, these graphs that we found plastered toevery wall of your home. Obviously they are also yours. 

BEARDSLEY (_adjusts his glasses, smiles at his graphs_): Yes. 

COUNSELOR: Thank you, Mr. Beardsley. That's fine. And, Mr. Beardsley, what did you use them for? These books, these graphs?

BEARDSLEY (_groping, bewildered_): I--I--

COUNSELOR (_sees the futility of it_): Gentlemen, I believe we canproceed on the grounds of self-evidence. Let me read you a few titlesfrom these books. "The Cybernetic Principle: Advanced Theory" . .. "TheSynapse in Function" . .. And here we have "Synaptics: Pattern and Flux. "There are more, many more in similar vein. (_Turns abruptly. _) Mr. Arnold. I'm sure you are familiar with most of these volumes. On thebasis of the content, would you say that you could duplicate Beardsley'sfeat?

ARNOLD (_aghast_): No! I would not presume to say that, sir. 

COUNSELOR (_frowns; it was not the answer he wanted_): Very well, then. Dr. Trstensky . .. Would you come forward, please? Dr. Trstensky . .. Youare head of the Department of Advanced Cybernetics at Cal Tech. You havehad opportunity to study these graphs and charts in minutest detail--

TRSTENSKY: Oh, yes-s. Fascinating!

COUNSELOR: I put the question: would it be possible for you to duplicatethe grotesque feat that Beardsley performed on ECAIAC?

TRSTENSKY: Yes-s, possibly. No, I will say definitely. You mean, ofcourse, cold, from the beginning? Yes-s . .. But it would take meapproximately three-to-four years. 

COUNSELOR: Yes, Mr. Beardsley? What is it? You would like to make apertinent statement?

BEARDSLEY (_abashed_): Oh. It--I only wanted to say it took me longer. Four-to-five years. 

COUNSELOR (_wearily--just waits for laughter to subside_): Gentlemen, Ithink we may safely wrap it up now. Our function here is Disposition. Our choice is two-fold. One: the subject is sane, in which case he willpay the supreme penalty for murder which he has freely admitted. Or two:he is obviously insane, in which case he will be subjected to PsychicProbe as provided by law, thus restoring a measure of normalcysufficient to place him again in society--restricted, of course--

DR. DOEBLER: Sir, one moment, if you please! I simply do not understandyour language, and even less can I condone your haste! _Safely_ wrap itup, you said. What do you mean by that? Safe for whom? And "obviously"insane--was that a slip of the tongue, sir, or are you trying to forcean issue here?

COUNSELOR (_coldly_): I must remind you that we already have competentreports on subject's status. Add to that the facts presented here; theyare overwhelming; the man's own admission and attitude aresubstantiation. It is my considered opinion, and I'm sure the opinion ofCouncil, that the man is insane. Subjection to Psychic Probe willrestore him to--

DOEBLER: Oh, yes, the Psychic Probe. I have no quarrel there. _Butsuppose you were wrong?_ Have you ever considered the effects of Probeon the _sane_ mind? Have you ever seen it? Once I saw it, only once. Itis worse than disaster--it is horrible--it results in a sort of psychictearing that heals and then tears and then heals in continuousperpetuation. It--is indescribable. It is sub-human. Compared to that, death or even insanity is a blessed relief. Now, gentlemen, listen! Iimplore you not to be in error! True, it was my opinion that Beardsleyacted in fulfillment of the self-destructive impulse, but the man is_sane--sane_, I tell you, and entitled to a humanitarian death! Myprofessional judgment--

COUNSELOR (_again coldly, glancing around_): Is welcome, but does notbear final weight, sir. 

 * * * * *

Silence closed down like a pall. Doebler's plea by its very impassionednature had gotten through. It was a moment of embarrassment andindecision in which each man weighed his conscience, and found itwanting . .. In which every member of Council looked to his neighbor forsolution or solace, and finding neither, turned back to himself, aghast. 

Only one person looked to the true source and saw the solution as itwould be, as it had to be. Pederson. Heartsick with the knowing, heobserved Raoul Beardsley and remembered! This funny little man . .. Thisridiculous man . .. This proud man who had seized his fate and shoved itthrough because it had to be done, because he obeyed the dictates, because he had reached his Time of Assertion. Oh, Pederson remembered!And most of all he remembered Beardsley there at the last, in that finalmoment when ECAIAC had reached the wailing heights of sentience andgrief . .. And how could he ever forget Beardsley's soundless whisperthat seemed to say, "_No, no . .. Don't you understand? . .. We're friendsnow!_"

Pederson remembered. He remembered, and looking up saw that Council hadreached equitable agreement, and his heart was sick and his soul wassick as he realized this was final, there could be no appeal. For thelast time he looked upon Beardsley's face and saw that the man was fullycognizant. .. . Beardsley also knew. .. . Deobler had been right. Pedersonturned his face away. 

COUNSELOR: Now we are agreed, gentlemen? (_waits for general approval. _)Be it pronounced, then. Inasmuch as there exists a general area of doubtas to Disposition; and inasmuch as it is agreed that furtherdeliberation would be prolonged and pointless; and inasmuch as our faithin the ultimate function of ECAIAC remains inestimable, despite recentvagaries which shall never occur again: be it therefore resolved, thatthe problem pending shall be taped in all its detail and submitted toECAIAC for Final Disposition. 

THE END

 * * * * *