"Thank you, your Honor."
This time the edge of sarcasm was so sharp that the Clerk and Court Stenographer looked up indignantly, expecting one of the Judge's famous retorts.
The crags in the Judge's face deepened, but he remained quiet.
With a tight smile, the District Attorney picked up his notebook.
"The defendant," he began crisply, "is charged on three counts of fraud under Section 31...."
"To wit," rumbled Judge Anderson, restlessly.
"To wit," snapped the D.A., "the defendant is charged with giving paid performances at a local theatre, during which he purported to demonstrate that he could take over Cyber functions and perform them more efficiently."
Walhfred Anderson felt the door closing on him. So this was why the D.A. had requested a change of calendar! What a perfect tie-in with the election campaign! He swiveled to study the defendant.
Professor Neustadt was an astonishingly thin little man; the bones of his shoulders seemed about to thrust through the padding of his cheap brown suit. His thinness, combined with a tuft of white hair at the peak of his forehead, gave him the look of a scrawny bird.
"Our investigation of this defendant," continued the D.A., "showed that his title was assumed merely for stage purposes. He has been associated with the less creditable phases of show business for many years. In his youth, he gained considerable attention as a 'quiz kid', and later, for a time, ran his own program and syndicated column. But his novelty wore off, and he apparently created this cybernetic act to...."