"Third Prime. A strong one, believe me. In a way most interesting of all." He pressed the words out slowly and flatly. "The third Prime," said Beardsley, "is ... Pederson." He watched Arnold relax ever so slowly, leaning back, the tension going away as he uncoiled in the chair; but the young man's face wasn't so much relieved as it was puzzled. "Pederson. Pederson? I don't seem to--You can't mean _Brook_ Pederson, the one-time tele-columnist?" "None other. I don't suppose you remember, but back in '60 he opposed the ECAIAC lobby. I mean _opposed_ it, _fought_ it! Predicted that Government installation of such a machine would not inspire confidence, that the nation's crime rate would rise ... he saw nothing but chaos. For a while there he was quite a man. Got himself a following. Had ambitions." "But I do remember it!" Arnold thumped the desk. "Of course! Pederson headed a bloc against 'Carmack's Folly,' but he backed the wrong horse, and when the bubble burst he was out in the cold. Became a laughing stock." Arnold paused, and his glance held something of shrewdness and a livening challenge. "Actually, Pederson couldn't have been more wrong. In those first two years ECAIAC reduced the crime-rate by some forty percent." "So it's claimed!" This was a sore point and Beardsley rose to the bait. "It couldn't be that crime was on the down-grade already? I could show you plenty of statistics that--why, I could show you methods--" "I'll just bet you could." Arnold gave a thin tolerant smile. "I refuse to enter _that argument_ again, not with you, Beardsley. I for one trust in machines not in evolution. I've told you before...." * * * * * And Beardsley found himself sitting there with a flush of heat at his hair-roots, half-angry and half foolish as he realized how he had been baited. Jeff Arnold was abruptly all business. He plunged his finger at a button, spoke into the intercom. "Joe! How's that test-run coming?" "All-X so far! Give us ten minutes for clearance." "Take twenty, but make sure it's _clearance_. Checked Quantitative, have you? How about feed-backs? ... yes ... what's that? Semantic circuits! Hell yes, check _all_ synaptics for clearance! I want no excess data fouling up this run!" He clicked off and sat there moodily, and Beardsley watched him, noting the quick nervous rhythm of Arnold's fingers. Arnold noticed it, too, and desisted. "Look," he said. "Mandleco, Losch, Pederson. Those three Primes just don't make sense to me!" "They don't?" Beardsley allowed just the proper note of resentment. "Surely you are not questioning Coördinates...." "You know I'm not! But--" Beardsley waited, knowing it was coming now. The thing Arnold had been aching to voice for the past five minutes. "But--well, damn it, there is _Mrs._ Carmack, for example. As you pointed out yourself, she'll be a rich woman now! It would seem to me--"