Grimswitch came up to see the Personnel man and tried to punch him in the nose. Fortunately, he was a little too drunk, and the blow went wild. Seegrum, the Shipovac operator, was fired. Douglas, the Treasurer, was permitted to keep his job, but the Personnelovac issued a dire threat if improvement wasn't rapidly forthcoming. Wilson, the firm's oldest employee, was fired. In fact, seven out of General Product's twelve department heads were greeted by the ominous pink card. Colihan, no longer plagued by doubt, felt that life was definitely worth living. He smiled all the time. His memos were snappier than ever. His heels clicked merrily down the office hallways. He had p-e-p. Then, the most obvious thing in the world happened--and Colihan just hadn't foreseen it. _His_ record card came up. * * * * * "Have you run through the stack yet?" Miss Blanche asked. "Er--just about." Colihan looked at her guiltily. He pushed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. "Couple more here," he said. "Well, we might as well finish up. Mr. Moss would like to have the schedule completed this afternoon." "It will be. That's _all_, Miss Blanche." His secretary shrugged and left. Colihan went to the Personnelovac with the record in his hand. The file number was 630. "Don't let me down," he told the Brain. He placed the pin-holed card into the machine and flipped the lever. It winked, chittered, chortled, and chuckled with almost sinister softness. When the card was burped out at the other end, Colihan took it out with his eyes firmly shut. * * * * * He walked over to the Action Chute mechanically. His hand hesitated before he dropped it inside. Then he changed his mind, walked back to the desk, and tore the pink card into the smallest possible shreds. The inter-com beeped. "Mr. Moss wants you," said his secretary. "Colihan!" "Yes, sir?" "Don't act so innocent, Colihan. Your report isn't complete. It should have been ready by now." "Yes, sir!" "You're not ACTING, Colihan. You're stalling!" "_No_, sir." "Then where's _your_ Personnelovac report, Colihan? Eh? Where is it?" Colihan wrung his hands. "Almost ready, sir," he lied. "Just running it through now, sir." "Speed it up. Speed it up! Time's a'wastin', boy. You're not _afraid_, are you, Colihan?" "No, _sir_." "Then let's have it. No more delay! Bull by the horns! Expect it in an hour, Colihan. Understand?" "Yes, sir!" The boss clicked off. Colihan groaned audibly. "What can I do?" he said to himself. He went to the Brain and shook his fist helplessly at it. "Damn you!" he cursed. He had to think. He had to THINK! It was an effort. He jerked about in his swivel chair like a hooked fish. He beat his hands on the desk top. He paced the floor and tore at the roots of his hair. Finally, exhausted, he gave up and flopped ungracefully on the office sofa, abandoning himself to the inevitable.