Right on the ball, I thought. The hypothetical 25 million was just about twice the publicly known size of the Borch estate, therefore right in the league he could figure I'd like to be playing in. And the hypothetical Jones on the chart, confidently facing the future, was handsome and dignified, but not _much_ more so than I was. "Mr. Jones has a wife and one young son." They appeared beside him on the second chart, and they looked very pleasant. The salesman knew Jed Borch was unmarried. "He has planned to his satisfaction a way of life appropriate to his standing." On the next chart the Jones family was backed up by a half-acre bungalow, a lake, and wooded hills. "His desire is for security, to ensure this pattern of living to himself and his wife, and to his son. His personalized Statistomat plans his finances accordingly." On succeeding charts, Jones changed only in subtle lengthening of the firm lines in his face, his wife didn't change at all, but his son sprouted to a six-footer and the bungalow grew some too. A bar graph superimposed on the picture kept track of the investment. By the time the boy was full-grown it had risen to a modest $100,000,000. "On the other hand, consider Michael Thompson. Starting with the same sum of $25,000,000, he may just as legitimately view different goals. Mr. Thompson is unmarried, and has not yet chosen to what station he will aspire." Chapter Two of the charts had just as admirable-looking a man (different color hair). I was curious how much Statistomat would finagle for him, but not curious enough to sit through another dozen charts. When the salesman said, "Naturally he's willing to risk--" I interrupted: "I don't want any risk. Can't afford to." I smiled slyly. "Responsibility to society." "Of course, of course, but you might be willing, like Mr. Thompson, to--er--look beyond the more accepted channels of finance for the sake of the larger returns that can be realized by breaking new ground, as it were--participating in pioneering enterprises." "Oh, sure. Don't want to miss any bets." * * * * * So far you couldn't see anything to complain about in his pitch, considering it alongside the pitch for General Computers' Incomac. In fact it essentially _was_ a General Computers pitch, with the brand name changed. Let's get to the point, I thought. I pointed to the odd suitcase. "Uh ... what's that?" He was adaptable enough to give up the Michael Thompson story and open up the suitcase, promptly and proudly. "Oh, the computer," I said, almost encouragingly. But he didn't let that stand. "No," he admitted, "this is just a life-size facsimile of the new Statistomat. I'm afraid the real thing is too valuable and too heavy for me to carry around, even to such an important interview as this." "How heavy?"