"You have to admire those two boys," Harker said after that session. "They've really brushed up on the pertinent subjects." "I haven't had a quizzing like that since I left medical school," Vogel said, nervously tugging at the dark strands of his beard. "And for what?" Raymond wanted to know. "Just to use up the taxpayers' money. They've found out all they want to know about us." Harker nodded gloomily. You only had to pick up any newspaper, listen to any reasonably right-wing news commentator, attend any church, even walk in the street and talk to people at random. The response was the same. Fear. Fear of reanimation, fear of that one-chance-out-of-six that the result would be a so-called zombie. Desperately Harker tried to counteract the swelling tide of fear. He scraped up money for a full-page ad in the _Times_, headed, THROW OUT THE BABY WITH THE BATHWATER? His line of argument was that the reanimation process should not be condemned for its failures, but praised for its successes. It was in the early stages, the experimental years. What if aviation had been suppressed because of the early crashes? Research had to go on. The response to the advertisement was a lessening of hysteria in responsible places; the _Times_ itself echoed his feelings in its own editorial the next day. But he sensed he was not reaching the people. And the people feared reanimation. There was no doubt of that, now. The hearing rolled along into early June, and then one day Dixon announced that this was the last week; the committee would enter private deliberations preparatory to delivering its findings to the Senate as a whole. Harker approached Senator Dixon privately and said, "Tell me, Senator--how are our chances?" The Wyoming liberal frowned quizzically. "Hard to say. The Committee's deadlocked two-and-two, you see. We may fight all summer about it." "Vorys and Brewster are dead against it?" "Absolutely. They heed the voice of the people, you see. Every minority party has to. It's the way they become a majority again." Harker said doubtfully, "How's the feeling in high Nat-Lib circles?" Dixon shrugged. "Right now, the feeling runs toward taking the Beller labs over and continuing reanimation research under federal supervision--with you and Raymond still in charge, of course." "Fine!" "Not so fast," Dixon warned. "We've got a Congressional majority, but that doesn't mean a thing. The way the people are murmuring, it looks pretty bad for getting that measure through." "You mean you may have to switch your stand?" Dixon nodded. "Jim, you know all about political expediency. You tried to knock down the stone wall when you were Governor, and got nowhere. If the people say, 'Junk reanimation,' then we'll have to junk it." Hotly Harker said, "Junk it? The way I was junked as Governor?" Dixon smiled. "I'm afraid so. It's this business of the seven idiots, Jim. That scares people more than you can imagine."