Fred sighed. "It's perfectly obvious," he said in a patient tone. "Since the State Department translator has no pig-Latin circuit, it can't possibly be talking pig-Latin. I will admit that such a circuit would be relatively easy to build, though it would have no utility as far as I can see. Except, of course, for a joke." He paused. "Joke?" he said, in a slightly uneasy tone. "Sure," Malone said. "Joke." Mitchell looked relieved. "Very well, then," he began. "Since--" "Wait a minute," Malone said. "The pig-Latin is a joke. That's right. But I'm not talking about the pig-Latin." "You're not?" Mitchell asked, surprised. "No," Malone said. Mitchell frowned. "But you said--" he began. "A joke," Malone said. "You were perfectly right. The pig-Latin is a joke." He waited for Fred's expression to clear, and then added: "But what I want to talk to you about isn't." "It sounds very confused," Fred said after a pause. "Not at all the sort of thing that ... that usually goes on." "You have no idea," Malone said. "It's about the political machines, all right, but it isn't anything as simple as pig-Latin." He explained, taking his time over it. When he had finished, Fred was nodding his head slowly. "I see," he said. "I understand just what you want me to do." "Good," Malone said. "I'll take a team over to the Senate Office Building," Fred said, "and check the computer-secretaries there. That way, you see, I'll be able to do a full running check on them without taking any one machine out of operation for too long." "Sure," Malone said. "And it shouldn't take long," Fred went on, "to find out just what the trouble is." He looked very confident. "How long?" Malone asked. Fred shrugged. "Oh," he said, "five or six days." Malone repressed an impulse to scream. "Days?" he said. "I mean ... well, look, Fred, it's important. Very important. Can't you do the job any faster?" Fred gave a little sigh. "Checking and repairing all those machines," he said, "is an extremely complex job. Sometimes, Malone, I don't think you realize quite how complex, and how delicate a job it is to deal with such a high-order machine. Why--" "Wait a minute," Malone said. "Check and repair them?" "Of course," Fred said. "But I don't want them repaired," Malone said. Seeing the look of horror on Fred's face, he added hastily: "I only want a report from you on what's wrong, whether they are actually making errors or not. And if they are making errors, just what's making them do it. And just what kind of errors. See?" Fred nodded very slowly. "But I can't just ... just leave them there," he said piteously. "In ... pieces and everything. It isn't right, Malone. It just isn't right." "Well, then," Malone said with energy, "you go right ahead and repair them, if you want to. Fix 'em all up. But you can do that _after_ you make the report to me, can't you?" "I--" Fred hesitated. "I had planned to check and repair each machine on an individual basis--"