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Voy
said
dryly
,
"
You
’
re
quite
a
philosopher
.
"
Harlan
flushed
.
He
thought
:
What
’
s
the
use
in
talking
to
any
of
them
?
He
said
,
angrily
,
with
a
sharp
change
of
subject
,
"
What
about
the
Life
-
Plotter
?
"
"
What
about
him
?
"
"
Would
you
check
with
the
man
?
He
ought
to
have
made
some
progress
by
now
.
"
The
Sociologist
let
a
look
of
disapproval
drift
across
his
face
,
as
though
to
say
:
You
’
re
the
impatient
one
,
aren
’
t
you
?
Aloud
he
said
,
"
Come
with
me
and
let
’
s
see
.
"
The
name
plate
on
the
office
door
said
Neron
Feruque
,
which
struck
Harlan
’
s
eye
and
mind
because
of
its
faint
similarity
to
a
pair
of
rulers
in
the
Mediterranean
area
during
Primitive
times
.
(
His
weekly
discourses
with
Cooper
had
sharpened
his
own
preoccupation
with
the
Primitive
almost
feverishly
.
)
The
man
,
however
,
resembled
neither
ruler
,
as
Harlan
recalled
it
.
He
was
almost
cadaverously
lean
,
with
skin
stretched
tightly
over
a
high
-
bridged
nose
.
His
fingers
were
long
and
his
wrists
knobby
.
As
he
caressed
his
small
Summator
,
he
looked
like
Death
weighing
a
soul
in
the
balance
.
Harlan
found
himself
staring
at
the
Summator
hungrily
.
It
was
the
heart
and
blood
of
Life
-
Plotting
,
the
skin
and
bones
,
sinew
,
muscle
and
all
else
.
Feed
into
it
the
required
data
of
a
personal
history
,
and
the
equations
of
the
Reality
Change
;
do
that
and
it
would
chuckle
away
in
obscene
merriment
for
any
length
of
time
from
a
minute
to
a
day
,
and
then
spit
out
the
possible
companion
lives
for
the
person
involved
(
under
the
new
Reality
)
,
each
neatly
ticketed
with
a
probability
value
.
Sociologist
Voy
introduced
Harlan
.
Feruque
,
having
stared
in
open
annoyance
at
the
Technician
’
s
insigne
,
nodded
his
head
and
let
the
matter
go
.
