"Wonder what we're looking into these Supremists for?" asked Kronski. "I always thought they were some kind of harmless crackpots."
"The Chief doesn't think so. Neither does Theodor Rysland." He told Kronski more about the interview last night.
Presently the machine stopped, clicked several times and began rolling the other way.
"Well, it found something," said Kronski.
They kept watching. Oh, for the life of a C.I.B. man. Cards began to drop into one of the slots. The main heading was Physical and the sub-heading Medical History. Pell frowned and said, "Certainly didn't expect to find a constant in this department." He picked up a few of the first cards and looked at them, hoping to catch the constant by eye. He caught it. "What's 445 under this heading?"
Kronski said, "I'll find out," and stepped over to the Operational Data board. He worked it, took the printed slip that came out and called back: "Record of inoculation."
"That's a funny one."
"Yup. Sure is." Kronski stared at the slip and scratched his neck. "It must be just any old kind inoculation. If it was special—like typhoid or tetanus or something—it'd have another digit."
"There must be some other boil-downs, if we could think of them." Pell was frowning heavily. Some of the other men, used to the machines, could grab a boil-down out of thin air, run the cards again and get another significant constant. The machine, however, inhibited Pell. It made him feel uneasy and stupid whenever he was around it.