Both the manager and the clerk exchanged horrified looks. They were thinking of the General Motors Reformatory outside of Detroit, where Company offenders passed their days in sullen silence, monotonously drawing microcircuits for pocket television sets.
"However, that is out of my jurisdiction," Rath said. He turned his baleful gaze full upon Haskins. "You are certain that the customer never mentioned his name?"
"No, sir. I mean yes, I'm sure," Haskins replied rattledly.
"Did he mention any names at all?"
Haskins plunged his face into his hands. He looked up and said eagerly, "Yes! He wanted to kill someone! A friend of his!"
"Who?" Rath asked, with terrible patience.
"The friend's name was--let me think--Magneton! That was it! Magneton! Or was it Morrison? Oh, dear...."
Mr. Rath's iron face registered a rather corrugated disgust. People were useless as witnesses. Worse than useless, since they were frequently misleading. For reliability, give him a robot every time.
"Didn't he mention anything significant?"
"Let me think!" Haskins said, his face twisting into a fit of concentration.