paraNormal lack of reaction," he tried to explain, "that's what
really bothers me. They don't even bother to notice our hatred because
we have the strength of insects next to theirs. They can all draw on
each others' resources and that totals to infinitely more than any of us
have, even if as individuals they're so much less. The perfect form of
security."

But for a moment one day that security seemed to be collapsing. Above
the work floor in Connor's factory there was a gallery of small but
luxurious offices in which the executive staff of paraNormals 'worked.'
None of them came in more than two days a week but use of these offices
was rotated among them so all were ordinarily occupied and workers,
going upstairs to the stock depot, could see paraNormals in various
stages of relaxation. Usually the paraNormal kept his feet on a desk
rest and, eyes closed, contemplated incoming entertainment. On rarer
occasions he would be leaning over a document on the desk as his mind
received the proper decision from Central.

This particular morning Connor was feeling bitterly envious as he went
by the offices. He had already seen seven smugly-similar faces when he
came by Room Eight. Suddenly the face of its occupant contorted in
agony, then the man got up and paced about as if in a trap. Deciding he
had seen more than was good for him, Connor hurried on. But the man in
Nine was acting out the same curious drama. He quickly retraced his
steps, passing one scene of consternation after another, and went back
down to the work floor, wondering what it all meant.

Soon everybody knew something extraordinary was afoot as all the
paraNormals swarmed noisily onto the runway overlooking the floor. They
were shouting wordless sounds at each other, floundering about as they
did so. Then, with equal suddenness, everything was calm again and,
faces more relaxed, they went back into their offices.

That evening Connor heard the same story everywhere--for ten minutes all
paraNormals had gone berserk. On the monorail he noticed that, though
still more relaxed than their unwelcome fellows, they no longer exuded
that grating _absolute_ sense of security. No doubt about it--for a few
minutes something had gone wrong, completely wrong, with the Central
System. "I don't like it," Rhoda said. "Let's see Dr. Newbridge
tomorrow."

"I'll bet it's a good sign."

Newbridge, though, was also worried when they got to see him. "They're
losing some of th