Harker was stunned as if by a physical blow. He took one step backward, groped for a chair, and lowered himself into it. Forcing himself to keep calm he said, "Just how often does this happen?" "About one out of every six tries, so far." "I see." He drew in his breath sharply, cleared his throat, and fought to hang on to his self-control. The whole thing had taken on an unreal dreamlike atmosphere in the past two hours. And this was the crusher. So one out of six revivifications produced a live idiot? _Great_, Harker thought. _So a public demonstration will be like a game of Russian Roulette. One-chance-out-of-six that the whole show will blow up in our faces._ "How long will it take you to iron this thing out?" he asked. "All I can say is that we're working toward it." "Okay. Forget the demonstration. We don't dare try it until things calm down. Remind me to cut your throat for this, Mart. Later." There was a knock on the door. Harker nodded to Barchet, who opened it. One of the laboratory guards stood outside. "The reporters are getting out of hand," he said. "They want to know when they're getting their statement." Harker stood up and said, "It's five minutes to eleven now. Tell them that I'll have a statement for them before noon." "Yes, sir." "Get me a typewriter," Harker said to Raymond. A typewriter was produced. Harker fed a sheet of paper in, switched on the current, and began to type. He composed a hasty 250-word statement disowning Mitchison, crediting Raymond as head of the project, and declaring that full details of the technique would be released as soon as they were ready. He signed it _James Harker_, and added parenthetically. (_Former Governor of New York--now legal adviser to Beller Research Laboratories._) "Here," he said, handing the release to Raymond. "Read this thing through and approve it, Mart. Then get it mimeographed and distributed to that wolfpack out there. Is there a vidset around anywhere?" "In A Lounge," Lurie offered. A Lounge was in the small dormitory in back. Harker said, "I'm going there to pick up the news reports. Lurie, I'm requisitioning you to set up office space for me someplace in Dormitory A. I want a phone, a vidset, a radio, and a typewriter. And I don't care who has to get pushed out of the way." "Yes, sir." "Good." He jogged across the clearing toward Dormitory A, pausing only to look back briefly at the horde of newsmen straining at the barrier down the hill. A Lounge was packed with lab researchers, clustered around the video. They moved to one side as Harker entered. He recognized Vogel and said to the bearded surgeon, "Has there been much about us on yet?" Vogel laughed. "_Much_ about us? Hardly anything but!"