Lynne sensed that the girl was glad to get briefly away from her first-born Mars-child as she made the introductions. At their conclusion, Revere Fenlay said, “Well, we brought the tri-di projector along.” “Okay,” said Lynne. “Don’t unpack it yet. We’ve got a bit further to go. Back in with you, _czanworms_.” She waved farewell to the others and climbed into the runabout after them, to make the short hop to Mars’ still small cattle country. They landed at the far side of Patagonia Station’s fenced-in acres, and Lynne stood by while Revere and Rana unpacked the light but sturdy gear. She had asked for and secured a three-dimensional projector, knowing that the eyes of cattle would not respond to a picture on a flat screen. Her plan was to flash a series of flickering, bright-moving objects before the animals, hoping to attract their attention willy nilly, very much as a toreador’s cape attracts a ring bull. Then, when the cattle were all focused, she planned to use the combined TP power of three minds like a trebly stepped-up battery--to hypnotize the entire herd and build a protective mental wall around each of the stupid steer brains. If all went well, the zombies would be locked in their new bodies, but would be unable to control them at all. VIII Three hours after its inauguration, Lynne Marcein realized that the experiment was a failure. The cattle showed no signs of being menacing or resentful. They did not stampede or go into weird parade formations, or gore one another for sport. They were evidently spent of body from their exertions earlier in the day. But, save for a few individuals, they simply refused to pay attention. Having glanced at the screen that was supposed to fix their interest they would lower their heads and resume grazing, or would simply turn away. Five times, Lynne had Revere and Rana move the tri-di projector, in an effort to so arrange its viewing curvature so that general attention would be compulsory. Five times the possessed beasts figuratively shrugged, humped their shaggy shoulders, and mooed, _So What?_ Then they went about their bovine business. “_Farbish_ clever, these Mars-steers,” said Revere with a weak attempt at humor, when Lynne finally called a halt. “I’ve worn my _ferkab_ brain to the bone,” put in tiny Rana inelegantly, “trying to bring those stupid creatures under my spell. The _farb_ of it is, I can feel those zombies snickering at me. I should like to twist them out of their silly cow-brains with my bare hands.” “I know,” said Lynne with a wan smile, suddenly close to the outer limits of physical, nervous and mental endurance. “I feel like....” She paused, her face turning deathly pale, and then said in a wondering tone, “I feel like I’m going to have the baby right here.”