Jory stood up and grinned. "Come on, Ernie. What do you need money for? I mean, other than to keep up the payments on your TV?" Ernie rose. "Don't be such a guy," he grumbled. "We better get back. If I come in late from lunch, I've had it." It was a quarter of a mile across the plant yard to where they worked. They walked in silence for the first few yards. Ernie thought his own thoughts and listened to the sound of their feet on the gravel. Presently, Jory said, "Ernie, you watch the fights. Do you remember back when they had the Rico-Marsetti bout?" Ernie still felt irritable. "Hell, yes, I remember. It was just two weeks ago. You make it sound like it happened six months back." "How well do you remember it?" "Well enough. That bum Marsetti cost me ten bucks when he dived in the sixth. He was the two-to-one favorite." "He didn't dive." "Yeah? You ask him?" "No. I read the papers. He was pretty scrambled up ... in the head, I mean ... for quite a while after they brought him back to his dressing room." "Maybe he was that way all along. Maybe they just then noticed it." Jory laughed. "Don't get cynical, Ernie. It's a sign of old age. No. Marsetti was really out of his head. He kept going through the last round ... you know, in his mind. He did it perfect, thirty or forty times, just up to the knockout." Then he stopped and went through the whole round again. "The doctors that examined him said that it happened because he ran into something he couldn't face." Ernie said sourly, "Yeah. Rico's left fist." "Maybe. But it gave me an idea." "Oh?" "Yeah. The idea is this: Could the world get knocked out that way? Suppose it did. Suppose everybody ran into something they couldn't take. Would they just run in a closed circle? Would they take a single day, like Marsetti took the sixth round, and just repeat it over and over again?" Ernie scowled and stopped. They were outside the plant door. "Boy," he said, "you are a bug, ain't you? What are you trying to give me?" "Just an idea, Ernie." The suspicion that Jory was needling him came back. "Well, I don't like it," Ernie said scornfully. "In fact, I think it's nuts." He paused to think of something else to say, then shrugged and turned. "I'll see you later. I got to get in to work." * * * * * And now here he was, Ernie thought, sitting in his own room with Jory's face looking at him out of the blue screen. _The whole day has been nuts_, Ernie told himself. "Hello, Ernie," Jory's voice repeated tiredly. "Hello, Ernie.... Hello, Ernie--" Ernie threw his beer can on the floor. Foam spewed out and soaked the rug. "All right," Ernie bellowed, "All right--Hello!" Jory stopped. He put his hand to his head and looked excited. He was wearing earphones, Ernie saw. "Ernie!" Jory said. "Do you see me?" He looked blindly out of the screen. In his rage, Ernie nearly kicked in the face of the set. "Yes, I see you! What are you trying to pull?"