leep isn't necessary to the psychic projection, of course, though
it is to the body on Earth. And what, Mr. Locke, would you imagine they
choose as their main amusements?"

"Pinball machines?" Clocker suggested ironically. "Crap games?"

"Lectures," said Barnes with pride. "They are eager to learn everything
possible about our project. We've actually had the director himself
address them! Oh, it was inspiring, Mr. Locke--color films in three
dimensions, showing the great extent of our archives, the many millions
of synthetic brains, each with indestructible memories of skills and
crafts and professions and experiences that soon will be no more--"

"Save it. Find Zelda for me and then blow. I want to talk to her alone."

Barnes checked with the equivalent of a box office at the Center, where,
he told Clocker, members of the audience and staff were required to
report before entering, in case of emergency.

"Like what?" Clocker asked.

"You have a suspicious mind," said Barnes patiently. "Faulty neuron
circuit in a synthetic duplicate brain, for example. Photon storms
interfering with reception. Things of that sort."

"So where's the emergency?"

"We have so little time. We ask the human associate in question to
record again whatever was not received. The percentage of refusal is
actually _zero_! Isn't that splendid?"

"Best third degree I ever heard of," Clocker admitted through clamped
teeth. "The cops on Earth would sell out every guy they get graft from
to buy a thing like this."

* * * * *

They found Zelda in a small lecture hall, where a matronly woman from
the other planet was urging her listeners to conceal nothing, however
intimate, while recording--"Because," she said, "this must be a
psychological as well as a cultural and sociological history."

Seeing Zelda, Clocker rushed to her chair, hauled her upright, kissed
her, squeezed her.

"Baby!" he said, more choked up than he thought his control would allow.
"Let's get out of here!"

She looked at him without surprise. "Oh, hello, Clocker. Later. I want
to hear the rest of this lecture."

"Ain't you glad to see me?" he asked, hurt. "I spend months and shoot
every dime I got just to find you--"

"Sure I'm glad to see you, hon," she said, trying to look past him at
the speaker. "But this is so important--"

Barnes came up, bowed politely. "If you don't mind, Miss Zelda, I think
you ought to talk to your husband."