At that precise moment, the mind being the perverse organ it is, he was struck by an inspiration. The Maintainovac bore an uneasy resemblance to Colihan's own think-machine. Wilson, the oldest employee of General Products, had been the operator of the maintenance Brain. He had been a nice old duffer, Wilson, always ready to do Colihan a favor. Now that he had been swept out in Colihan's own purge, the Personnel Manager had to deal with a new man named Lockwood. Lockwood wasn't so easy to deal with. "Stay out of my files, mister," he said. Colihan tried to look superior. "I'm the senior around here, Lockwood. Let's not forget that." "Them files is my responsibility." Lockwood, a burly young man, stationed himself between Colihan and the file case. "I want to check something. I need the service records of my Brain." "Where's your Requisition Paper?" "I haven't got _time_ for that," said Colihan truthfully. "I need it _now_, you fool." Lockwood set his face like a Rushmore memorial. "Be a good fellow, can't you?" Colihan quickly saw that wheedling wasn't the answer. "All right," he said, starting for the door. "I just wanted to help you." He opened the door just a crack. Sure enough, Lockwood responded. "How do you mean, help _me_?" "Didn't you know?" Colihan turned to face him. "I'm running through an aptitude check on the Personnelovac. Special department head check. Mr. Moss's orders." "So?" "I was just getting around to yours. But I figured I'd better make sure the Brain was functioning properly." He grew confidential. "You know, that darned machine has been firing _everyone_ lately." A little rockslide began on Lockwood's stoney face. "Well ..." he said. "If that's the case--" "I knew you'd understand," said Colihan very smoothly. * * * * * Eagerly, the Personnel Manager collated the records of the Personnelovac. They were far more complex than any employee record, and it took Colihan the better part of an hour. Any moment he expected to hear the President's angry voice over the inter-com. His anxiety made him fumble, but at last, the job was done. He slipped the record, marked by a galaxy of pinholes, into the Brain. "Now we'll see," he said grimly. "Now we'll find out what's eating this monster." He flipped the switch. The Personnelovac winked. It was several minutes before it digested the information in its chamber. Then it chittered. It chortled. It chuckled. Colihan held his breath until the BURP came. The card appeared. It read: "_Subject #PV8. Mech. Rat. 9987. Mem. Rat. 9995. Last Per. Vac._ "_An. None. Cur. Rat. 100._ "_Analysis: Subject operating at maximum efficiency. Equipped to perform at peak level. Is completely honest and does not exhibit bias, prejudice, or sentiment in establishing personnel evaluations. Cumulative increase in mnemonic ability. Analytic ability improving._" Colihan walked slowly over to the Action Chute as he finished reading the card.