"At least, now I won't have to worry about being laughed out of the service—I'll get court-martialed out!"
He jabbed viciously at an ice-cube with his forefinger.
"But there's one thing I'll do first," he promised.
"What's that, Sir?"
"Strangle Smith with my bare hands!"
General Sanders sat on a metal folding chair in front of Eddie, the educatable computer, and stared belligerently at the roughly-finished aluminum facade.
Eddie didn't look like much—certainly nothing like $13,456.12 worth of components paid for out of the General's contingency fund. Speed had been the primary consideration in rebuilding Eddie. The exterior case was unpainted, and rather inexpertly held together with metal screws. There were no knobs on the front panel controls. The vocader grill was open; the input microphone simply rested on the workbench beside the case. The entire assembly measured about three feet long, two feet deep and eighteen inches high.
"O.K., what do I do now?" rasped the General.
"Just start talking—into the mike."