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It
was
the
Council
,
then
,
or
Twissell
,
at
the
very
least
.
He
was
afraid
of
none
of
them
,
nor
of
all
put
together
With
each
passing
day
of
the
last
unbelievable
month
he
had
grown
more
convinced
of
his
own
indispensability
.
The
Council
,
even
the
Allwhen
Council
itself
,
would
have
no
choice
but
to
come
to
terms
when
it
was
a
choice
of
bartering
one
girl
for
the
existence
of
all
of
Eternity
.
It
was
with
a
dull
surprise
that
Technician
Andrew
Harlan
,
on
bursting
into
the
575th
,
found
himself
in
the
night
shift
.
The
passing
of
the
physiohours
had
gone
unnoticed
during
his
wild
streaks
along
the
kettle
shafts
.
He
stared
hollowly
at
the
dimmed
corridors
,
the
occasional
evidence
of
the
thinned
-
out
night
force
at
work
.
But
in
the
continued
grip
of
his
rage
Harlan
did
not
pause
long
to
watch
uselessly
.
He
turned
toward
personal
quarters
.
He
would
find
Twissell
’
s
room
on
Computer
Level
as
he
had
found
Finge
’
s
and
he
had
as
little
fear
of
being
noticed
or
stopped
.
The
neuronic
whip
was
still
hard
against
his
elbow
as
he
stopped
before
Twissell
’
s
door
(
the
name
plate
upon
it
advertising
the
fact
in
clear
,
inlaid
lettering
)
.
Harlan
activated
the
door
signal
brashly
on
the
buzzer
level
.
He
shorted
the
contact
with
a
damp
palm
and
let
the
sound
become
continuous
.
He
could
hear
it
dimly
.
A
step
sounded
lightly
behind
him
and
he
ignored
it
in
the
sure
knowledge
that
the
man
,
whoever
he
was
,
would
ignore
him
.
(
Oh
,
rose
-
red
Technician
’
s
patch
!
)
But
the
sound
of
steps
halted
and
a
voice
said
,
"
Technician
Harlan
?
"
Harlan
whirled
.
It
was
a
Junior
Computer
,
relatively
new
to
the
Section
.
Harlan
raged
inwardly
.
This
was
not
quite
the
482nd
.
Here
he
was
not
merely
a
Technician
,
he
was
Twissell
’
s
Technician
,
and
the
younger
Computers
,
in
their
anxiety
to
ingratiate
themselves
with
the
great
Twissell
,
would
extend
a
minimum
civility
to
his
Technician
.
