"Final."
"Mr. Ro," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "I think you'll be sorry."
She headed for the door, only to turn around and ask me if my wife was at home.
"I suppose she is," I said, "but don't bother her—she takes no interest in Civic affairs."
I don't have to tell you boys that I dismissed the lady from my mind and went on to other more important matters. Or so I thought.
When I got home that night, I didn't say anything about Hatty Dakkon. My wife is inclined to see things differently than I do and I had a hunch she would side with Hatty. Consequently, rather than get into a discussion, I just let it slide.
Not too many of you boys know my wife, but those who do know that she is like so many other women—not particularly interested in any Civic Machine. Just so she gets what she wants when she dials the home connection to the Machine is all she is interested in.
That night, though, my wife surprised me by having a burning interest in the Civic Machine. She wanted to know all about it. How it produces the consumer products. How it gets them to the living area. How it knows what to order. And she especially quizzed me about the new Projector.
When I asked her why she wanted to know about all that after 15 years of married life, she just smiled sweetly and said that naturally she was interested in my work.