The controller made a terrible fuss about the whole affair, and I knew—don't ask me how, I simply knew—that something drastic was going to be done about it unless I talked plenty fast. By this time, though, the clues in my head were beginning to fall into place. I turned directly to the C-S and I said: "Sir, Prog stands for Prognostication, doesn't it?"
There was silence. Finally Groating nodded slowly.
I said: "You've got some kind of fortuneteller up there. You go up every afternoon and get your fortune told. Then you come out and tell the press about it as though you all thought it up by yourselves. Right?"
The controller sputtered, but Groating nodded again.
I said: "This afternoon the end of the Universe was prognosticated."
Another silence. At last Groating sighed wearily. He shut the controller up with a wave of his hand and said: "It seems Mr. Carmichael does know enough to make things awkward all around."
The controller burst out: "It's no fault of mine. I always insisted on a thorough guard system. If we had guarded the—"
"Guards," Groating interrupted, "would only have upset existing Stability. They would have drawn attention and suspicion. We were forced to take the chance of a slip-up. Now that it's happened we must make the best of it."
I said: "Excuse me, sir. I wouldn't have come here just to boast. I could have kept quiet about it. What bothers me is what bothered you?"