Jane answered for her husband.
"I'll tell you what it is. It's the voice of my unborn son."
"Jane, you're insane!" said Carroad.
"No, I'm not, though I wish I were."
"God, he's at the window!" boomed the voice. "And he has a knife! What can I do? What can I do?"
"Turn that off until I get through talking," said Jane. "Then, you can listen again and see if what I'm saying isn't true."
Carroad stood like a statue, his hand extended towards the toggle switch but not reaching it. Cramer reached past him and flicked the switch.
"James," she said, speaking slowly and with difficulty. "You want to make robots out of everyone. Except, of course, yourself and the State's leaders. But what if I told you that you don't have to do that? That Nature or God or whatever you care to call the Creator, has anticipated you? And done so by several billion years?
"No, don't look at me that way. You'll see what I mean. Now, look. The only one whose thoughts you could possible have tapped is our son. Yet, it's impossible for an unborn baby to have a knowledge of speech. Nevertheless, you heard thoughts, originated by a boy, seeming to run from the first years of speech up to those of an adolescent. You have to admit that, even if you don't know what it means.
"Well, I do."