They recorded that afternoon. This time, when Klythe pressed the starter, he said nothing. Only his hands and eyes directed the men through their tasks. And every motion of the men's fingers and arms sent their special impulses to the recording tape that hummed through the machinery. Crayley looked out from behind his face and smiled secretly. When the recording was finished, Klythe nodded with satisfaction. "I think we could have shaved a few more seconds off that," he said, "but it'll do. Now disassemble it and we'll run her through on the tape." They took the model down below to the radiation-proofed assembly tables for the test. The thing was pulled to pieces and each piece positioned. Then Klythe threw the switch that started the waldoes. The tape purred through the pickup head, transmitting the little bits of information it had received, squirting little pulses of energy to the steel-and-plastic arms that jutted out of the domes atop the pillars. In exact duplication of the men's motions, the waldoes picked up the pieces and put them in their proper places. It was like a great four-dimensional jigsaw puzzle. Each piece not only had to be located properly in space, but placed there at just exactly the right time. If there were any bugs in the recording, now was the time to find out. When the real thing was assembled, mistakes could be costly. But there were no flaws in the recording. The model was rebuilt exactly as the men themselves had rebuilt it. That was Klythe's genius; he worked for perfection and got it. Klythe looked at the model after the last pair of hands had fallen inert, and nodded slowly. Then he climbed all over the model, checking for errors. The interior circuits were tested electrically, one by one and in co-ordination with each other. The test machines showed it clear. Finally, Klythe said: "I think it'll do. But now we'll disassemble it again by hand--slowly, this time--and see if we've screwed up anywhere." That night, Crayley went out and got drunk. He sat by himself, grinning and thinking secret thoughts in a booth at the _Peg & Wassail_, dropping coins in the slot and dialing one beer after another. He managed to maneuver himself home at three o'clock in the morning, singing softly to himself. He woke up with a horrible headache, but he felt wonderful inside. * * * * * Sure enough, Berin was in his usual state of "first-run jitters." Crayley had been a little afraid that Klythe's enthusiasm wouldn't be up to par on this project, but it evidently was. He was rubbing his hands together, a nervous smile playing around his mouth, coming and going unpredictably. "Well, we'll see today. Major Stratford will be here with the Space Force Research Staff at fourteen hundred to watch the first one off. I hope the bugs aren't too rough on us." "Nothing will go wrong," Crayley assured him.