ouldn't count on ECAIAC just yet."

It was Beardsley's first error. He realized it instantly. The remark
seemed to trigger something in Mandleco.

The Minister of Justice turned slowly, rolling the cigar from one corner
of his mouth to the other. "But I may," he said. "You know, I just may!
It's barely possible, Beardsley, that with some luck we'll be able to
dispense with your talents!" He said it with considerable more relish
than conviction, and moved for the door. "I think I'll just see how
Arnold is making out!"

* * * * *

Arnold was making out very well, much to Mandleco's delight. No longer
was there chaos and confusion. The new feed-back unit had arrived, and
installation was well under way. Blueprints were spread out as a crew of
techs worked feverishly at all damage areas.

"It looks promising," Arnold hurried up to greet him. "Told you I had a
good crew here! Look--see this?" He indicated one of the variant-tapes
being slowly reversed across the relays.

"What is it?"

"The number eight reject."

"That what caused the trouble?"

"Well ... we think so, but it's problematical. Whether it did or not,
we're safe in resuming the run without any shift in the correlation
total."

Mandleco stared at the number eight. "Throw it out!" he snapped.

"What--what did you say, sir?"

"I said throw it out! Get this thing to functioning!"

Arnold was aghast. "But," he gulped, "we just can't throw out data!
Sure, it was about to be a reject--but everything, even rejects, contain
a factor-balance! You know that, sir."

Mandleco got control of himself with an effort. "Yes--yes, of course. I
know you're right. But damn it, man, those units cost something like
eighty thousand dollars! Suppose the same breakdown occurs?"

"Not a chance of it this time. We'll merely continue with a stepped-up
synaptic check. Take longer for Cumulative, perhaps, but absolutely
fool-proof once we--"

* * * * *

For a long instant Mandleco stood musing. Then he nodded brusquely. "All
right. How long to get going?"

"Why, we'll be ready in forty minutes at the most. I told you I had a
good crew, sir! Excuse me--" One of Arnold's techs was motioning to him.
"Excuse me," Arnold said again, and hurried away to consult with the
man.

"Forty minutes!" Mandleco couldn't believe it. He chortled happily, and
swung about to greet Beardsley who approached at that moment. "Hear