"That," Burke said when he'd finished, "I want to see." They went home in the crowded Inglewood tube. Sam was there, but Sam seemed to avoid them, for some reason. All the way home, Joe had the uncomfortable feeling that Burke didn't believe any part of this business, that Burke was making the trip only to substantiate his own misconceptions. But when Alice came into the living room, smiling brightly, extending her hand to the Senior Assistant, Joe had a gratifying glimpse of Burke's face. Burke was lost. Burke stared and swallowed and grinned like a green stage hand at a burlesque show. Burke's smile was perpetual and nauseating. Even in the face of Alice's cool reserve. The dinner was fine, the liquor mellow. Then Joe said, "Well, Alice, it's time for the volition. It's time for your _birth_ as a person." "Of course," she said, and smiled. They went down into the basement, the three of them; she sat in the chair he'd prepared and he clamped on the wired helmet and adjusted the electrodes. Burke said weakly, "It isn't--dangerous, is it?" "Dangerous?" Joe stared at him. "Of course not. Remember how I explained it?" "I--uh--my memory--" Burke subsided. She closed her eyes and smiled. Joe threw the switch. She'd have knowledge; she'd have the memory of her past few days of existence as his alter ego. She'd have volition. The contact clock took over. Her eyes remained closed, but her smile began to fade as the second hand moved around and around the big, contact-studded dial. Joe was smiling, though she wasn't. Joe was filled with a sense of his own creative power, his own inventive genius and gratification at the worried frown on the face of the imbecile Burke. * * * * * Then the clock stopped and there was a buzz; the meters dropped to zero. Alice opened her eyes. For the first time, as a _person_, she opened her eyes. Her smile was back. But she was looking at Burke. Looking at Burke and smiling! "Baby," she said. Burke looked puzzled, but definitely pleased. In all Burke's adult life, no female had ever looked at him like that. Joe said tolerantly, "You're a little confused yet, Alice. _I'm_ your husband." "You?" She stared at him. "Do you think I've forgotten you? Do you think I don't know you, after living inside your brain, almost? You _monster_, you egocentric, selfish, humorless walking equation. You're not my husband and I'd like to see you prove that you are." Now it was only Burke who smiled. "By George," he said, "that's right. There's no wedding on record, is there, Joe?" "Wedding?" Joe repeated blankly. "I made her. I created her. Of course there's no--" "Of course, of course, of course," Alice shrilled. "That's all you know. You're the original 'of course' kid. Things aren't that certain, Junior. I've known you just long enough and just well enough to detest you." Now she pointed at Burke. "_That's_ what I want. That's my kind of man."