"Oh, have you?" Mitchell said. "I was busy." That, obviously, explained that. Malone shrugged.
"I want you to help me check over some calculators, Fred," he said. "We've had some reports that some of the government machines are out of kilter, and I'd like you to go over them for me."
"Out of kilter?" Fred Mitchell said. "No, you can forget about it. It's absolutely unnecessary to make a check—believe me. Absolutely. Forget it." He smiled suddenly. "I suppose it's some kind of a joke, isn't it?" he said, just a trifle uncertainly. Fred Mitchell's world, while pleasant, did not include much humor, Malone knew. "It's supposed to be funny," he said in the same flat, precise voice.
"It isn't funny," Malone said.
Fred sighed. "Then they're obviously lying," he said, "and that's all there is to it. Why bother me with it?"
"Certainly," Fred said. He looked at the machinery with longing.
Malone took a breath. "How do you know?" he said.
Fred sighed. "It's perfectly obvious," he said in a patient tone. "Since the State Department translator has no pig-Latin circuit, it can't possibly be talking pig-Latin. I will admit that such a circuit would be relatively easy to build, though it would have no utility as far as I can see. Except, of course, for a joke." He paused. "Joke?" he said, in a slightly uneasy tone.
"Sure," Malone said. "Joke."
Mitchell looked relieved. "Very well, then," he began. "Since—"