There was a note on top which read, _Appointment with Lamarre, 11 June--1215. Must be firm with him, and must handle with great delicacy. Perhaps time to let Walton know._ Hmm, that was interesting, Walton thought. He had no idea who Lamarre might be, but FitzMaugham had drawn a spidery little star in the upper-right-hand corner of the memo sheet, indicating crash priority. He flipped on the annunciator. "There's a Mr. Lamarre who had an appointment with Director FitzMaugham for 1215 today. If he calls, tell him I can't see him today but will honor the appointment tomorrow at the same time. If he shows up, tell him the same thing." His watch said it was time to dispose of another fragment of Fred's message. He stuffed it into the disposal chute. A moment later the green light flashed over the arrival bin; FitzMaugham had not been subject, as Walton had been in his previous office, to cascades of material arriving without warning. Walton drew a sealed packet from the bin. He examined the seal and found it untampered, which was good; it meant the packet had come straight from the computer, and had not even been read by the technician in charge. With it was a typed list of five names--the doctors who had been in the lab the day before. Breaking open the packet, Walton discovered seven closely-typed sheets with a series of itemized actions on them. He ran through them quickly, discarding sheets one, two, and three, which dealt with routine activities of the computer in the early hours of the previous day. Item seventy-three was his request for Philip Prior's record card. He checked that one off. Item seventy-four was his requisition for the key to the clinic's gene-sorting code. Item seventy-five was his revision of Philip Prior's records, omitting all reference to his tubercular condition and to the euthanasia recommendation. Item seventy-six was the acknowledgment of this revision. Item seventy-seven was his request for the boy's record card--this time, the amended one. The five items were dated and timed; the earliest was 1025, the latest 1037, all on June tenth. Walton bracketed the five items thoughtfully, and scanned the rest of the page. Nothing of interest there, just more routine business. But item ninety-two, timed at 1102, was an intriguing one: _92: Full transcript of morning's transactions issued at request of Dr. Frederic Walton, 932K104AZ._ Fred hadn't been bluffing, then; he actually had possession of all the damning evidence. But when one dealt with a computer and with Donnerson micro-memory-tubes, the past was an extremely fluid entity. "I want a direct line to the computer on floor twenty," he said. After a brief lag a technician appeared on the screen. It was the same one he had spoken to earlier. "There's been an error in the records," Walton said. "An error I wouldn't want to perpetuate. Will you set me up so I can feed a direct order into the machine?" "Certainly, sir. Go ahead, sir."