"To secure the return of your wife. I would naturally be aware that you had submitted yourself to our control voluntarily. It was in your file, which was sent to me by Admissions." "Then why did you let me in?" "Because, my dear friend--" "Leave out the 'friend' pitch. I'm here on business." Barnes shrugged. "As you wish. We let you in, as you express it, because you have knowledge that we should include in our archives. We hoped you would recognize the merit and scope of out undertaking. Most people do, once they are told." "Zelda, too?" "Oh, yes," Barnes said emphatically. "I had that checked by Statistics. She is extremely cooperative, quite convinced--" "Don't hand me that!" * * * * * Barnes rose. Straightening the papers on his desk, he said, "You want to speak to her and see for yourself? Fair enough." He led Clocker out of the building. They crossed the great square to a vast, low structure that Barnes referred to as the Education and Recreation Center. "Unless there are special problems," Barnes said, "our human associates work twelve or fourteen of your hours, and the rest of the time is their own. Sleep isn't necessary to the psychic projection, of course, though it is to the body on Earth. And what, Mr. Locke, would you imagine they choose as their main amusements?" "Pinball machines?" Clocker suggested ironically. "Crap games?" "Lectures," said Barnes with pride. "They are eager to learn everything possible about our project. We've actually had the director himself address them! Oh, it was inspiring, Mr. Locke--color films in three dimensions, showing the great extent of our archives, the many millions of synthetic brains, each with indestructible memories of skills and crafts and professions and experiences that soon will be no more--" "Save it. Find Zelda for me and then blow. I want to talk to her alone." Barnes checked with the equivalent of a box office at the Center, where, he told Clocker, members of the audience and staff were required to report before entering, in case of emergency. "Like what?" Clocker asked. "You have a suspicious mind," said Barnes patiently. "Faulty neuron circuit in a synthetic duplicate brain, for example. Photon storms interfering with reception. Things of that sort." "So where's the emergency?" "We have so little time. We ask the human associate in question to record again whatever was not received. The percentage of refusal is actually _zero_! Isn't that splendid?" "Best third degree I ever heard of," Clocker admitted through clamped teeth. "The cops on Earth would sell out every guy they get graft from to buy a thing like this." * * * * * They found Zelda in a small lecture hall, where a matronly woman from the other planet was urging her listeners to conceal nothing, however intimate, while recording--"Because," she said, "this must be a psychological as well as a cultural and sociological history."