"It's a private affair. She's harmless."
"I'll summon the guards and have her removed."
"Yes? To whom do you think the guards owe their first allegiance?"
A white-smocked figure turned to look at the newcomers. "Please, Comrades. Let's have none of this squabbling. Stalin wants to talk with us."
"We'll settle this later," grumbled Malenkov.
"There is nothing to settle," said Chenkov, standing his ground.
Malenkov growled, but looked again at the brain floating in its case. The white-smocked figure adjusted some dials on a table nearby. On the wall behind the glass enclosed brain, a microphone-speaker blared metallically:
"Are they both here? Malenkov and Chenkov, both of them?"
"Yes," said Zhubin. "Yes, Comrade Stalin. They are here."
"You now know that I live," said the brain. "It is a strange new life I have, but I can think—perhaps more clearly than would otherwise be possible, for I have no body to encumber me. Before I go on, do you have any questions?"