“All the pop I want to drink, and promise that the Sailor will take me to Western depthies when I’m not performing and that Mr. Cranch won’t interfere.” “Done,” Ajax replied. The face of Dennis Ogg lit with a jubilant smile. “Mr. Ajax,” Cranch announced suddenly, “I’ll take you up on your offer. Mind you, I do not think it is proper and correct, but in view of the condition of my personal finances, I will agree. Shall we go to your office to discuss the matter more fully?” “Why certainly—er, no, let’s stay right here in the park. It’s a beautiful day.” Visions of greedy creditors camping on the doorstep danced through the mind of Fred Ajax. The Sailor nudged Cranch, who recoiled. “You ought to unbend a little, buddy,” the Sailor informed him. “You ever been boozed up?” “Boozed—_up_?” The eyebrows of Ellsworth Cranch elevated in unison with his last word. “Certainly not.” The Sailor slapped him on the back, nearly causing Cranch to collapse. “We’ll fix that too, eh, buddy?” “Well, I—” Ajax saved the situation. “To business!” he exclaimed, and herded a leering Sailor, a doubtful Cranch and a beaming Dennis toward the peanut vendor’s stand, where they could obtain some slight refreshment before dipping into the various considerations related to the coming battle of man (better—boy) versus machine. Fred Ajax was more than busy during the following days, Ellsworth Cranch presented him with slightly over five hundred dollars cold cash with which to begin operations. Ajax had steered through dangerous waters on this point, keeping Cranch, who was a novice in such matters anyway, so much in the dark that he never thought to ask why Ajax could not use some of his own cash, which was non-existent. * * * * * Ajax paid one hundred dollars rental on a vacant lot for a period of one week. He paid one hundred dollars to have a large tent erected for a period of one week. He paid three hundred dollars for a small Cybernetic Calculator rented out by the day to business firms with a special and complicated mathematical problem to solve. This was a service of a company only recently established in the city, a company which had sprung up like similar companies all across the system after the electronic antics of the big brains became feasible on a small basis. The Sailor, Ajax, and a sweating Ellsworth Cranch erected a small shack at one end of the tent while the workmen moved the brain machine into the other end. Dennis, unbeknownst to his guardian, was gorging himself on Orange-dee-lite pop at the rear of the lot. In the print shop of Ajax Enterprises where advertising was produced for the occasional inventions of the firm, posters rolled from the presses: _Boy vs. Machine! Dennis Ogg, the Seven-year-old Genius! See Him Solve Problems Faster Than a Cybernetic!_