Rhoda's turn to exercise forebearance and to try to
smooth things over. Once she looked out the picture window at the
perfect synthetic thatch of the Williams' great cottage, peeping over
the hollyhock-topped rise of ground at the end of the garden. "Well?" he
demanded. "Well?"

"Nothing, Connor."

"You sighed and I want to know what the devil--"

"Since you insist--I was thinking how lucky Sheila Williams always is.
Ten years ago the government authorized twins for her while I haven't
had a child in thirty years, and now our disaster forewarns her. She'll
never get caught off guard on a paraNormal line."

* * *

He snapped his fingers and Max brought out the pudding in a softly
shining silver bowl. Above it hovered a bluish halo of flaming brandy.
"Maybe not. I've heard of people even being Suspended without a reason."
He slowly savored the first spoonful as if it might be the last ever.
From now on every privileged pleasure would have that special value.
"One more year of such delights."

"If we can stand the ostracism."

"We can." Suddenly he was all angry determination. "I did the wrong
thing today, admitted, but it really was the truth, what I said. I've
concentrated right and still got wrong numbers!"

"Me too, but I kept thinking it was my own fault."

"The real truth's that while the System assumes more authority each
decade it keeps getting less efficient."

"Well, why doesn't the government do something, get everything back in
working order?"

His grin showed no pleasure. "Do you know anybody who could help repair
a Master Central Computer?"

"Not personally but there must be--"

"Must be nothing! People are slack from having it so good, don't think
as much as they used to. Why bother when you can tap Central for any
information? _Almost_ any information."

"How can it all end?"

"Who knows and who cares?" He was angry all over again. "It will still
be working well enough for a few centuries and we, we're just left out
in the cold! I'm only ninety, I can live another sixty years, and you,
you're going to have a good seventy-five more of this deprivation."

Max was standing at the foot of the table, metal visual lids closed as
he waited for instructions. Rhoda considered him unthinkingly, then
snapped back to attention. "Nothing more, Max, go to the kitchen and
disconnect until you hear from us."

"Yes," he said in that programmed tone which indicated endless gratitude