"Pour me one, too," requested the doctor; "it'll help us sleep. My idea is to dig up a dozen or so newspapers containing the three subjects under consideration, each of which is continued on some back page. If any of the papers has more than one of these subjects printed on the same page, we'll ink it out, so that we can observe Urei's reaction without wondering what subject he's interested in. I'll show him the beginning of each article, but I won't turn the paper far enough to show him the remainder." He paused, sipping as delicately as if his glass contained sherry instead of 100-proof Bourbon.
"Now if you are correct in suspecting that Urei is a sentient creature—and also is interested in one of those subjects—he'll use that power of his to make me show him the rest of the article. You can stand by...."
"Why not let me turn the papers?"
"You'll be there," Dr. Albie said, patiently. "I'll turn the pages, though; you see, I'm keeping an open mind about this. Even if you're right, it might turn out that Urei can't control me—You may be more sensitive, you know—In which case he'll make you pick up the paper, instead of me. Conducting the experiment in that manner might give us a little more information, in case we get positive results. Drink up; we've got a big day ahead of us."
It was eleven in the morning when they pulled up before Urei's front door in Benton's station wagon. It was almost one o'clock before they finished setting up and adjusting four suit-cases full of thought-detection apparatus in the control room.
"You keep your eyes on this stuff," Dr. Albie directed; "if he really does take over, I won't be able to warn you."
He reached for the stack of newspapers and carefully adjusted the panel beside Urei's No. 1 screen scanner. Albie's hand was steady, Benton noted, wishing he possessed equal composure. The palms of Benton's hands were sweating as he flipped the switches of the apparatus in the cases. His eyes wandered to the indicating meters, noting that they were comfortably at zero and showing no signs of moving at the moment. On the control panel were three beady little red lamps, glowingly insisting that the giant brain needed some attention, but he ignored them and flicked his eyes briefly upward. The sound-absorbent ceiling stared back imperturbably.
There was nothing to give the impression that the mass of metal machinery above that ceiling and behind that control panel was broodingly biding its time, waiting patiently for the moment when it would take over the race of humans which had constructed it. Benton, however, knew the machinery was there and was just as certain that it had those intentions. He felt it watching him; he should have known it long ago, he realized. A dozen books had been written about Urei, and all of them had marveled at the many potentials the machine had shown which were complete surprises to the men who had built the big brain.
Men had begun to personify Urei almost immediately. The machine had ceased to be U-R-E-I, meaning "Unified Reflexive Electronic Integrator", and had become Urei, an entity who could do just about anything in calculating and reasoning from supplied data. Men had felt the sentience of the machine for years, but had refused to admit it—even to themselves.