nor said. He smiled into the video cameras and
cleared his throat. "I take it you don't want an explanation of how
this machine works. I mean: you don't want a technical exposition, do
you?"

"No," Burris said, and added: "Not by any means. Just tell us what it
does."

Dr. O'Connor suddenly reminded Malone of a professor he'd had in
college for one of the law courses. He had, Malone thought, the same
smiling gravity of demeanor, the same condescending attitude of
absolute authority. It was clear that Dr. O'Connor lived in a world of
his own, a world that was not even touched by the common run of men.

"Well," he began, "to put it very simply, the device indicates whether
or not a man's mental--ah--processes are being influenced by outside--
by outside influences." He gave the cameras another little smile. "If
you will allow me, I will demonstrate on the machine itself."

He took two steps that carried him out of camera range, and returned
wheeling a large heavy-looking box. Dangling from the metal covering
were a number of wires and attachments. A long cord led from the box
to the floor and snaked out of sight to the left.

"Now," Dr. O'Connor said. He selected a single lead, apparently,
Malone thought, at random. "This electrode--"

"Just a moment, Doctor," Burris said. He was eyeing the machine with a
combination of suspicion and awe. "A while back you mentioned
something about 'outside influences.' Just what, specifically, does
that mean?"

With some regret, Dr. O'Connor dropped the lead. "Telepathy," he said.
"By outside influences, I meant influences on the mind, such as
telepathy or mind-reading of some nature."

"I see," Burris said. "You can detect a telepath with this machine."

"I'm afraid--"

"Well, some kind of a mind-reader anyhow," Burris said. "We won't
quarrel about terms."

"Certainly not," Dr. O'Connor said. The smile he turned on Burris was
as cold and empty as the inside of Orbital Station One. "What I meant
was--if you will permit me to continue--that we cannot detect any sort
of telepathy or mind-reader with this device. To be frank, I very much
wish that we could; it would make everything a great deal simpler.
However, the laws of psionics don't seem to operate that way."

"Well, then," Burris said, "what does the thing do?" His face wore a
mask of confusion. Momentarily, Malone felt sorry for his chief. He
could remember how he'd felt, himself, when that law professor had
come up