"Come in," Norm called. The door opened, and a small, neat girl entered. Her long bob was dark and silky, but windblown. She tossed her head and her hair settled into place, as if she had just brushed it. She extended a pack of punched cards. "Thank you," Norm said, gravely. The girl looked up at him suddenly, and he stepped back a little. She had surprising, deep-violet eyes, and their glance seemed to have a tangible impact. She nodded grave acknowledgment and left. "Damn it, I wish I could do that!" Norm complained. "Make goo-goo eyes?" "No. Shake my head so my hair would automatically be combed like hers. I've been fighting this cowlick ever since I've been a kid--stocking caps, gunk, the works. Still got it. And the part moves around and I have to hunt for it." "Know who she is?" "Nope. Clerk, messenger, I guess. They're always hiring new ones." "Doesn't she ever speak?" "Of course she--come to think of it, I've never heard her. Must say it's a relief after the usual yackety-yack. Haven't anything to talk to her about, anyway. She's just a child." "A pretty one, though." "Yes, she is." "You sure don't know anything about women. If anyone made eyes at me that way, I'd do something about it." "What, for instance?" Norm inquired dryly. "Well, of course, I'm married. But I'd find out who she was, anyhow. Sometimes I think you're dead and don't know it." "Sometimes I agree with you," Norm said. He fed one of the punch cards into the transmitter head, which fingered the holes and told ICWEA what the problem was. ICWEA began drawing a curve on the curve tracer. It would have taken Norm or anyone else days to arrive at the answer. "See? Skips here and there, but I can ink in the gaps." "Looks like the pen catches on the paper a little. I'll grind the point while I'm at it. Say, that thing really thinks, doesn't it?" "In a way. Generally, the digitals have it all over the analogues when it comes to reasoning, but I built an extra brain into her." "Where?" "The 'Y' path. Remember? Tries several appropriate methods in succession. I analyzed my own methods of attack, and built the same methods into her. She's an electronic _me_, except faster and more accurate." "I bet. She's more alive than you are. Why don't you step out a little? First thing you know, you'll be getting old, and it'll be too late." "Leave the match-making to the women. I may be old, but I'm not an old fool. It's fall, not spring." "Yeah? All you need to be an old fool is just a little more time." * * * * *