Meanwhile, Amos Handworthy was examining the guns with great care, particularly the tiny switch that activated the firing cycle. It was evident to him that as soon as his gun lifted off the switch, electrical activity commenced. After first unplugging the Marshal's electrical cable, he carefully removed the ultra violet loaded guns from the fixture in his holster and the Marshal's holster, and replaced them with beautifully machined Colt .45's that were loaded with real bullets. "There's absolutely no doubt that the mechanical action will be the same," thought Handworthy, "and now the element of real fear, both _mine_ and _his_ will be in the picture. We're going to have a real shootout, the kind you don't see any more." He replaced the plug in the wall socket and turned about to face the Marshal quite squarely, shifting his belt around so that his gun would clear free of the holster. The Marshal stared at him out of sightless painted blue eyes, his mechanical hand resting stolidly on his gun. "Even now, it isn't an even match," thought Handworthy ruefully. "I couldn't be any calmer than I am now. I guess it never can come out just exactly as I want it to." As his fingers flashed lightning fast to his gun, it suddenly occurred to him that Manny was right, that he and the Marshal were indissolubly linked through his own nervous system. He had no kin, no wife, no children. The Marshal was the only one on earth really tied to him. And in that instant, a terrible surge of fear came over him at the thought of killing his own. THE END