"Not a hint. Last night's panel drew like a magnet. The D-Date tag you suggested has them by the nose."
"How about the President's talk?"
The man from Analysis grinned. "He should be campaigning."
Tommy mopped his forehead with his shirtsleeve. "Okay. Now listen: we need a special run on all response data we have for tolerance levels. Got that? How soon can we have it?"
Analysis shook his head. "We could only make a guess with the data so far."
"Fine," said Tommy. "Make a guess."
"Give us three hours," said Analysis.
"You've got thirty minutes. Get going."
Turning back to Pete, Tommy rubbed his hands eagerly. "It's starting to sell, boy. I don't know how strong or how good, but it's starting to sell! With the tolerance levels to tell us how long we can expect this program to quiet things down, we can give Charlie a deadline to crack his differential factor, or it's the ax for Charlie." He chuckled to himself, and paced the room in an overflow of nervous energy. "I can see it now. Open shafts instead of elevators. A quick hop to Honolulu for an afternoon on the beach, and back in time for supper. A hundred miles to the gallon for the Sunday driver. When people begin seeing what the Grdznth are giving us, they'll welcome them with open arms."
"Hmmm," said Pete.