"Yes, sir." Bond saluted again and made his escape. Morely watched him disappear, then turned to his communicator. "Get me Field Leader Denton," he ordered. The pause was slight, then the face of a middle-aged man appeared in the viewsphere. "Denton," said the district leader, "I want you to keep closer watch on your sector men. Last night I spot-checked Bond, in Fourteen, and I found an irregularity. I'll expect you to endorse the report back, and I'll expect you to tighten down. Keep an especially close eye on this man, Bond." The field leader's eyebrows raised a little. "Bond, sir? He's one of--" "Bond. Yes." His superior interrupted forcefully. "And tighten down on all your men. You know how I feel about laxity." He snapped the communicator off and gathered Bond's report together. For a few seconds, he looked at the neat stack of paper, then he slipped a paper clamp on it and punched his call button. * * * * * "There!" Paul Graham straightened from his hunched-over position at the desk. He laid his soldering iron down and massaged the small of his back, grimacing slightly. "Oh, me! I'll swear my back'll never be the same again. But that ought to do it, at last." He looked at the equipment before him and grinned ruefully. "Of all the haywire messes. It started out so nice. And it ended up so awful." The device _had_ started out as a fairly neat assembly, using a headband as a chassis. But the circuitry seemed to have gone out of control. Miniature sub-assemblies hung at all angles from their wires and tiny components were interlaced through the unit, till the entire assembly looked like a wig from a horror play. Graham shook his head, picked up the band; and carefully fitted it, being careful that the contacts touched his forehead and temples properly. For an instant, he looked a little dazed. Then, he reached up and fumbled for a moment with the controls at the front of the headband. Suddenly, he stopped, an expression of pleasure on his face. He stood for a time, looking at the wall, then looked up at the ceiling. He frowned and looked at his wife, who was anxiously watching him. A smile grew on his face, and she was clearly conscious of the projected thought. "_I told you, Elaine, it can't possibly hurt anyone. Stop worrying about me._" Elaine Graham looked startled. "I didn't, say anything, darling." Her husband looked at her with an impish grin. She frowned a little, then her eyes widened and her mouth opened a little. She ran at him indignantly. "It simply isn't decent! You take that thing off, Paul Graham, right now. I won't have you reading my mind!" Graham laughingly fended her off with one hand as he carefully removed the headband with the other. He set the device gently on the desk, then seized his wife about the waist. "It works, honey," he said jubilantly. "It really works." He waltzed her away from the desk, to the middle of the living room.