atents. You don't suppose that Losch--"

"I'm not supposed to suppose," Beardsley said softly. "But clinically,
it is interesting to note that motive factor alone equates Losch from
Logical into Prime. _Plus_ a high neuro-thalamic imbalance--132 over 80
on the last Index, with pronounced efforts at suppression."

He watched Arnold absorb that, and went on: "Now for the third Prime. I
think it'll interest you...."

* * * * *

He waited deliberately. He looked at Jeff Arnold for a long moment and
saw that the man was calm. Too calm. So absolutely motionless that it
wasn't real.

"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