He snapped his fingers. Cramer shot him a look; his face was expressionless, but Jane knew that Cramer resented Carroad's arrogance.
Nevertheless, Cramer obeyed; he adjusted a dial, pushed down on a toggle switch, rotated another dial.
A voice, tonelessly and tinnily mechanical, issued from a loudspeaker beneath the tube. It repeated the phrase that Carroad had given and that Jane was thinking. It continued the repetition until Cramer, at another fingersnap from Carroad, flicked the toggle switch upward.
"As you have just heard," said Carroad triumphantly, "we have converted the waveforms into audible representations of what the subject is thinking."
The Secretary's brows rose like two caterpillars facing each other, and he said, "Very impressive."
But he managed to give the impression that he was thinking, Is that all?
Carroad smiled. He said, "I have much more. Something that, I'm sure, will please you very much. Now, as you know, this machine—my Cervus—is exposing hundreds of deviationists and enemy agents every year.
"Yet, this is nothing!"
He stared fiercely at them, but he had a slight smile on the corners of his lips. Jane, knowing him so well, could feel the radiance of his pride at the fact that the Secretary was leaning forward and his mouth was open.
"I say this is nothing! Catching traitors after they have become deviationist is locking the garage after the car has been stolen. What if we had a system of control whereby our citizens would be unable to be anything but unquestioningly loyal to the State?"