McKay eyed him viciously.
‘What do you think you’re doing now?’ he bellowed. ‘Where are you going with that machine?’
‘You can say,’ Crane told him, ‘if anyone should ask, that the job finally drove me nuts.’
* * *
It had been going on for hours. The typewriter sat on the kitchen table and Crane hammered questions at it. Sometimes he got an answer. More often he did not.
‘Are you a free agent?’ he typed.
Not quite, the machine typed back.
‘Why not?’
No answer.
‘Why aren’t you a free agent?’