The juice spread rapidly at first, and then more and more slowly, making a huge, circuitous river spreading across the table, first towards the doster and then away from it towards the frayed power-cord lying on the table. It touched and began to run along the cord. Not a very eventful recording so far, but Oley watched, charmed. As he watched, a few bubbles began to appear near the frayed spot. A few wisps of steam. And then, suddenly, there was a loud, snarling splat--and Momma screamed from the doorway. "That juice is making a short!" The information, of course, was duly recorded. Juice makes shorts. It was a minor item of information, mixed into a jumble of others, and nothing else was added to this particular file for nearly another week. * * * * * Oley was playing happily on the living room floor that night. Here there was much to explore, though an adult might not have thought twice about it. Back in the corner behind Momma's doing bachine a bright, slender piece of metal caught Oley's attention. Bigger on one end than the other, but not really very big anywhere, the sewing machine needle proved fascinating. As a first experiment, Oley determined that it worked like a tooth by biting himself with it. After that he went around the room, biting other things with it. Information, of course, is information, and to be obtained any way one can. The brown, snaky lamp cord was the end of this experiment. Oley bit it, viciously, with his new tooth, and had only barely observed that it had penetrated completely through when there was a loud splat, and all the lights in the room went out. In the darkness and confusion, of course, Oley moved away, seeking other new experiences. So the cause of the short that Momma and Poppa yakked so loudly about was never attributed to Oley's actions, but only to "How could a needle have gotten from your sewing machine into this lamp cord, Alice?" But the sum of information had increased. Neatles stuck into lamp cords had something to do with shorts. More time passed. And this time the file on shorts was stimulated by Poppa. The big, rough, booming voice had always scared Oley a bit when it sounded mad, like now. "Alice, I've just got to have some more shorts!" Poppa was rummaging in a drawer far above Oley's head, so he couldn't see the object under discussion. But all he already knew about shorts--the information passed in review before him. Shorts are useful. They help electrics to work harder. Shorts you wear, and they are electrics. Wires are electrics. Shorts can be made by juice. Shorts can be made by neatles, that bite like teeth. Poppa needs more shorts. But Oley wasn't motivated to act at the moment. Just sorting out information and connecting it with other information files in the necessarily haphazard manner that might eventually result in something called intelligence, although he didn't know that yet.