"I'm a Gemini!" exclaimed the janitor, surprised to see anything familiar come out of the machine. "Birthday is May 25."
"Wonderful!" cried the machine. "First intelligent man I've heard so far. Gemini is justly famed as the owner of a quick mind and ready wit. Your intellectual achievements are a splendid asset to your literary inclinations."
The janitor, embarrassed at the sudden praise, shifted his broom from one hand to the other. The machine continued.
"I need an Ephemeris," said the machine. "Can you find an Ephemeris? I need one desperately!" and the machine's desperate need for an Ephemeris so shook its intestines, liver and gallbladder that its tone of voice came out a minor third above the normal monotonous dirge of the loudspeaker.
"An E-what-eris?" said the janitor.
"An Ephemeris," repeated the machine. "An astronomical almanac. Something that tells me where Mars is. There I was, on my way over from the clouds of Magellan to visit friends in Orion when Whammo! Mars comes into conjunction with Uranus. When something that big happens I just sit down and wait. Here I am now in this absurd device. Do you suppose you could look out the window and tell me where Mars is?"
The night watchman said, "It's cloudy outside."
"See!" said the machine, "When Mars goes on the war-path nothing comes out right. Now, Gemini, if you will just go down to the library and get me an Ephemeris for this year we can clear this up and I'll be on my way, indebted to you for life, if not longer."
"Who shall I say it's for?" asked the janitor, who did not fully understand that the library was public, never having been in it before, and felt he needed a recommendation or a slip of approval.