'Do you propose to murder me?'

'Nothing as drastic required in case of Brain-employees. I reverse judgment in psychanalysis aptitude test case number 11.357, Semper Fidelis Lee. Severe psycho-neurosis established, certified: he suffers delusions about The Brain. Locked up in mental institution. Very simple; precedents to that galore.'

The 'green dancer' bounced in wild jumps like a Shamaan who, foaming at the mouth, puts the curse upon some enemy. This and the ominous note in The Brain's metallic voice made my bones shiver, made my flesh creep. To fall into the hands of an extortioner is always a terrible thing, but to have a mechanical extortioner hold power over me; there was a horror beyond words in this perversity. Moreover since Oona too was a Brain-employee, she would share my fate; through my fault she would go to her doom if I failed to foreswear any further confidence.

'Okay,' I said 'I'll cut it out; I promise I will.'

But The Brain was not to be pacified. No doubt that it had further developed mentally in these past few days to the tune of years in human development. But the progress wasn't as noticeable as it had been on previous occasions because apparently The Brain had entered that period where in human terms young men are sowing their wild oats. There was a radical recklessness in the manner of The Brain's reasonings more frightening than ever before because it had outgrown me as a teacher, had lost much even of its confidence in me and seemed bent upon independence and coming into its own:

'Seven creatures approximately human in shape were led by you through My hemispheres the night of Nov. 20th. What were those?'

'Those were politicians,' I stammered.

The 'green dancer' convulsed at the word and The Brain's voice sounded icy as it said: 'Lowest form of animal life which has ever come to my observance. What did they want?'

'Well, they are not exactly bright,' I winced, 'but they are well meaning and they are very popular. They came to inspect You preliminary to the passing of the Brainpower-Extension-Bill.'

The Brain has no laughter, so the roar I heard over the phones must have been one of scorn: