“They aren’t random in time, either; but there again there’s no correlation with the age of the power-plant affected, the age-status of atomic power of any particular planet, or any other thing except one—there is an extremely high correlation—practically unity—with time itself.”
“I thought so,” Joan nodded. “That was what I noticed. The older, the fewer.”
“Exactly. But with your new classification, Joan, I think I see something else.” Cloud’s mathematical-prodigy’s mind pounced. “And how! Until very recently, Joan, the data will plot exactly on the ideal-growth-of-population curve.”
“Oh, they breed, some way or other. Nice—that gives us a. . . .”
“You said that, woman, I didn’t. I stated a fact; if you wish to extrapolate it, that’s your privilege—but it’s also your responsibility.”
“Huh! Don’t go pedantic on me. Haven’t you got any guesses?”
“Except for this recent jump, which we can probably ascribe to Fairchild and explosives, nary a guess. I can’t see any possible point of application.”
“Neither can I. But if that’s the only positive correlation you can find, and it’s just about unity, it must mean something.”
“Check. It’s got to mean something. All we have to do is find out what . . . I think maybe I see something else.” Bending over, he sighted across the chart from various angles. “Too many pins. Let’s clear a belt through here.” They did so. “Will you read ’em to me in order, beginning with the oldest?”
“At your service, sir. Sol.”