And then it was that something just a little bit unusual did happen, something not quite right. A small thing. But the colonel had told him to report anything about anything, no matter how insignificant, that struck him as a little queer. It was just that with all the people in his head, and the arrivals and departures, there was a small group that was not of the pattern. Every minute hundreds left by death and arrived by birth. And now there was a small group, seven persons; they arrived into the world, but they were not born into the world. So Anthony went to tell Colonel Cooper that something had occurred to his mind that was a little bit odd. But damn-the-dander-headed-two-and-four-legged-devils, there were the kids and the dogs in the street again, yipping and hooting and chanting: "Tony the tin man. Tony the tin man." He longed for the day when he would see them fall like leaves out of his mind, and death take them. "Tony the tin man. Tony the tin man." How had they known that his father was a used metal dealer? Colonel Peter Cooper was waiting for him. "You surely took your time, Anthony. The reaction was registered, but it would take us hours to pin-point its source without your help. Now then, explain as calmly as you can what you have felt or experienced. Or, more to the point, where are they?" "No. You will have to answer me certain questions first." "I haven't the time to waste, Anthony. Tell me at once what it is and where." "No. There is no other way. You have to bargain with me." "One does not bargain with restricted persons." "Well, I will bargain till I find out just what it means that I am a restricted person." "You really don't know? Well, we haven't time to fix that stubborn streak in you. Quickly, just what is it that you have to know?" "I have to know what a restricted person is. I have to know why the children hoot 'Tony the tin man' at me. How can they know that my father was a junk dealer?" * * * * * "You had no father. We give to each of you a sufficient store of memories and a background of a distant town. That happened to be yours, but there is no connection here. The children call you Tony the Tin Man because (like all really cruel creatures) they have an instinct for the truth that can hurt; and they will never forget it." "Then I am a tin man?" "Well, no. Actually only seventeen percent metal. And less than a third of one percent tin. You are compounded of animal, vegetable, and mineral fiber, and there was much effort given to your manufacture and programming. Yet the taunt of the children is essentially true." "Then, if I am only Tony the Tin Man, how can I know all the people in the world in my mind?" "You have no mind." "In my brain then. How can all that be in one small brain?"