Dolan straightened and looked at her sharply. Her remark had reminded him of something else he needed to know. "How do they know just when to break us up," he asked, "just when to drop in 'accidentally' on us? Can they read my mind?"
She shook her head. "No, they are not mind-readers. It is just that they know so much about what to expect of people—remember that for thousands of years there has been nothing so important to us as what other people do, in my time men of science no longer study physical things, all that is known, they study people. In any given situation, they can predict quite accurately what action a given individual will take."
"You think they know what we're talking about now?"
"Not in detail. But in general, yes—and I suppose it must serve their purpose in some way for us to worry about these things, what will become of you and me, or they would not permit it. In a matter such as this, they do nothing without a purpose."
"Well, that's fair enough," Dolan said grimly. "As long as they aren't actually mind-readers, they can guess all they want to."
Moirta shook her head. "It is not guessing, that is what I have been trying to tell you. Whatever you plan, they will have foreseen it, perhaps not the exact thing you wish to do; but all the possible things you can do, and the most likely thing you will do.
"Really, it will not be so bad, you will finish the translator, and we will go, and you will forget us, and ... well, in time I suppose I will forget you also."
"No." He squeezed her hard against him. "I don't intend to forget you, and I don't intend you to forget me." He grinned down at her. "In this time, the boy always gets the girl, and they live happily ever after. It's a natural law, like gravitation.
"Brown and Smith aren't infallible. They may know people, but I know machines. Don't forget, the time translator is the key, the big item in this mess. And that's in my bailiwick."