y'll wear out in six months or a year. What happens
_now_? What are we going to eat in six months?"

The engineer rubbed his chin. "We'll have to do something quick and
fast. Ecological balance is gone to hell."

"Fast isn't the word. Instantaneously would be better." Gelsen lighted
his thirty-fifth cigarette for the day. "At least I have the bitter
satisfaction of saying, 'I told you so.' Although I'm just as
responsible as the rest of the machine-worshipping fools."

Macintyre wasn't listening. He was thinking about watchbirds. "Like the
rabbit plague in Australia."

"The death rate is mounting," Gelsen said. "Famine. Floods. Can't cut
down trees. Doctors can't--what was that you said about Australia?"

"The rabbits," Macintyre repeated. "Hardly any left in Australia now."

"Why? How was it done?"

"Oh, found some kind of germ that attacked only rabbits. I think it was
propagated by mosquitos--"

"Work on that," Gelsen said. "You might have something. I want you to
get on the telephone, ask for an emergency hookup with the engineers of
the other companies. Hurry it up. Together you may be able to dope out
something."

"Right," Macintyre said. He grabbed a handful of blank paper and hurried
to the telephone.

* * * * *

"What did I tell you?" Officer Celtrics said. He grinned at the captain.
"Didn't I tell you scientists were nuts?"

"I didn't say you were wrong, did I?" the captain asked.

"No, but you weren't _sure_."

"Well, I'm sure now. You'd better get going. There's plenty of work for
you."

"I know." Celtrics drew his revolver from its holster, checked it and
put it back. "Are all the boys back, Captain?"

"All?" the captain laughed humorlessly. "Homicide has increased by fifty
per cent. There's more murder now than there's ever been."

"Sure," Celtrics said. "The watchbirds are too busy guarding cars and
slugging spiders." He started toward the door, then turned for a parting
shot.

"Take my word, Captain. Machines are _stupid_."

The captain nodded.

* * * * *

Thousands of watchbirds, trying to stop countless millions of murders--a
hopeless task. But the watchbirds didn't hope. Without consciousness,
they experienced no sense of accomplishment, no fear of failure.
Patiently they went about their jobs, obeying each stimulus as it came.

They couldn't be everywhere at the same time, but it wasn't necessary to
be. People