At a nod from the D.A., the bailiff gave Professor Neustadt a pad of paper on which to note his answers. It had been previously been agreed that Cyber IX would answer visually, on the screen, instead of by vocader. The Professor was seated at the far end of the counsel table, where he could not see the screen. Clerks with stopwatches were stationed behind the Professor and Cyber IX. "Is the defendant ready?" inquired Judge Anderson, feeling like an idiot. "Of course." The Judge turned to Cyber IX, then caught himself. He flushed. The courtroom tittered. The District Attorney had five questions, each in a sealed envelope, which also contained an answer certified by an eminent authority in the field. With a flourish, keeping his profile to the cameras, the D.A. handed the first envelope to Judge Anderson. "We'll begin with a simple problem in mathematics," he announced to the TV audience. From the smirk in his voice, Judge Anderson was prepared for the worst. But he read the question with a perverse sense of satisfaction. This Professor was in for a very rough morning. He cleared his throat, read aloud: "In analyzing the economics of atomic power plant operation, calculate the gross heat input for a power generating plant of 400 x 10^6 watts electrical output." Cyber IX hummed into instantaneous activity; its lights flashed in sweeping curves and spirals across the frontal grid. Professor Neustadt sat perfectly still, eyes closed. Then he scribbled something on a pad of paper. Two stopwatches clicked about a second apart. The clerk handed the Professor's slip of paper to Judged Anderson. The Judge checked it, turned to the screen. Both answers were identical: 3,920 x 10^6 BTU/hr. Time was announced as fourteen seconds for Cyber IX; fifteen and three-tenths seconds for Professor Neustadt. The Cyber had won the first test, but by an astoundingly close margin. The courtroom burst into spontaneous applause for the Professor. Walhfred Anderson was incredulous. What a fantastic performance! No longer smirking, the D.A. handed the Judge a second envelope. "What is the percentage compressibility of caesium under 45,000 atmospheres of pressure, and how do you account for it?" Once again Cyber IX hummed and flickered into action. And once again Professor Neustadt sat utterly still, head tilted back like an inquisitive parakeet. Then he wrote swiftly. A stopwatch clicked. Walhfred Anderson took the answer with trembling fingers. He saw the D.A. rub dry lips together, try to moisten them with a dry tongue. A second stopwatch clicked. The Judge compared the correct answer with the Professor's answer and the answer on the screen. All were worded differently, but in essence were the same. Hiding his emotion in a tone gruffer than usual, Judge Anderson read the Professor's answer: "The change in volume is 17 percent. It is due to an electronic transition for a 6s zone to a 5d zone."