started
bluffing, the robot went into a tizzy.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the robot had known nothing whatever
about bluffing. That would have made it easy for Mike. All he'd have had
to do was keep on feeding in chips until the robot folded.

But the robot _did_ know about bluffing. The trouble is that bluffing is
essentially illogical, and the robot had no rules whatsoever to go by to
judge whether Mike was bluffing or not. It finally decided to make its
decisions by chance, judging by Mike's past performance at bluffing.
When it did, Mike quit bluffing and cleaned it out fast.

That caused such utter confusion in the random circuits that Mike's
friend had had to spend a week cleaning up the robot's little mind.

But what would be the purpose of building a brain as gigantic as the one
in Cargo Hold One? And why build a spaceship around it?

Like a pig roasting on an automatic spit, the problem kept turning over
and over in Mike's mind. And, like the roasting pig, the time eventually
came when it was done.

Once it is set in operation, a properly operating robot brain can
neither be shut off nor dismantled. Not, that is, unless you want to
lose all of the data and processes you've fed into it.

Now, suppose the Computer Corporation of Earth had built a giant-sized
brain. (Never mind _why_--just suppose.) And suppose they wanted to take
it off Earth, but didn't want to lose all the data that had been pumped
into it. (Again, never mind _why_--just suppose.)

Very well, then. _If_ such a brain had been built, and _if_ it was
necessary to take it off Earth, and _if_ the data in it was so precious
that the brain could not be shut off or dismantled, _then_ the thing to
do would be to build a ship around it.

Oh _yeah_?

Mike the Angel stared at the microcryotron stack and asked:

"Now, tell me, pal, just why would anyone want a brain that big? And
what is so blasted important about it?"

The stack said not a word.

The phone chimed. Mike the Angel thumbed the switch, and his secretary's
face appeared on the screen. "Minister Wallingford is on the line, Mr.
Gabriel."

"Put him on," said Mike the Angel.

Basil Wallingford's ruddy face came on. "I see you're still alive," he
said. "What in the bloody blazes happened last night?"

Mike sighed and told him. "In other words," he ended up, "just the usual
sort of JD stuff we have to put up with these days. Nothing new, and
nothing to worry about."

"You