roup," said Senator Anderson. "Du
Fresne is just about the smartest computerman we have." He eyed Lindsay
speculatively, added, "You don't seem much impressed by your danger,
Zalen."

"How can I be?" Lindsay countered. "After all, Earth is supposed to be
much further advanced than Mars in civilization. And we have had no
political murder on Mars in more than fifty years."

Maria made a despairing gesture. "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "You _don't_
understand, Zalen. On Mars you have both room and time to settle your
political conflicts. And you don't have computers."

"We have some pretty sharp rows," Lindsay told her. "But we don't have
anyone assassinated." He paused, looked at them both, added, "Do you
have many of them here?"

"Not many," said Anderson. "But there is a growing tendency to go along
with computer verdicts, no matter how extreme."

"And you believe the British computers are giving accurate answers when
they recommend the dumping of millions of pairs of utterly useless
hunting boots on Mars? Or those rubber shower curtains they unloaded on
us two years ago?"

The Senator said, "There is, unfortunately, no question as to the
accuracy of computer answers. The trouble seems to lie in some special
condition, local to Britain, that effects computers."

"But if the British computers are wrong, why doesn't somebody do
something about it?" Lindsay asked.

Anderson said, "If it were that simple, Zalen...." His smile was rueful.
"Unfortunately our English friends--or their rulers at any rate--are
determined that socialism is the only government suitable to their
country. Actually it is nothing of the sort--they can thrive only with a
mercantile capitalism under a nominal constitutional monarchy."

"In that case I still don't see--" Lindsay began.

"Contrary to what you're thinking, their leaders are not villains,"
Anderson told him. "They are men and women obsessed with an ideal that
has hampered them for almost two centuries. And they are incapable of
accepting any conclusion counter to their ideals."

"Even to impoverishing an entire planet?" Lindsay asked.

Anderson shrugged. "A penalty of their insularity," he replied. "The
reason for this little meeting, Zalen, is to explain that not all of us
are in favor of supporting Britain and its absurd production bungling at
the expense of Mars. A few of us are becoming singularly fed up with the
computer neurosis that seems to have this planet in its grip.