"I didn't ask you how old you were, duchess, but I test out at an embarrassed 158 or so."
"We match within ten points. It'll have to do. Because we've got to fake—test out at about 115."
"Like I say, you'll do. Testing out at 115, our bosses on the next level shouldn't be a shred above 130 or so. So—"
"So we've got them by almost a 30-point margin. We'll be in a position to out-think our immediate guards, and perhaps even those over them. It's our only hope."
"Mental imposters.... You just forgot one little item, honey."
"Oh of course. They're the masters of all, so there's no possibility that a mere human—"
"Take it easy. I didn't say it's no go. Just wondering if 115's are acceptable. If not, you know what happens. We go to the bottom of the class never to rise again. Maybe even 160's aren't eligible. Remember, the control points are hidden relative to the mental ability of the civilizations whose planets they control. Only people who exceed the Owners' estimate—"
"If they control our system, they control billions of others—we were told that. Some higher, some certainly lower. And we did discover the point."
"You and your father. I never would have."
"Look, Cragin. It's the only chance there is. But if I fake and you don't—"