I said: "You'll have to give me a little time to think it over. It's rather—startling."

"By all means," he said, escorting me to the door, "do think it over. Although"—he hesitated with his hand on the knob—"I shouldn't agree with your choice of the word 'startling.' After all, it's only what we expected all along. The Universe must come to an end one way or another."

Think? Boys, the massive brain practically fumed as I went back downstairs. I went out into the press room and I wondered what there was about a picture of a black cloud that could have upset the Stabilizer. I drifted out of the Prog Building and decided I'd better go down to the controller's office for another bluff, so I didn't drift any more. There was a pneumatic pick-up at the corner. I caught a capsule and clicked off the address on the dial. In three and a half minutes I was there.

As I turned the overhead dome back and started to step out of my capsule, I found myself surrounded by the rest of the newspaper crowd.

The Ledger said: "Where you been, my friendly, we needed your quick brain but bad."

I said: "I'm still looking for Hogan. I can't cover a thing until I've seen him. What's this need for brains?"

"Not just any brains. Your brain."

I got out of the capsule and showed my empty pocket.

The Ledger said: "We're not soaping you for a loan—we needed interpolation."

"Aha?"

The Record said: "The dope means interpretation. We got one of those official releases again. All words and no sense."

"I mean interpolation," the Ledger said. "We got to have some one read implications into this barren chaff."

I said: "Brothers, you want exaggeration and I'm not going to be it this time. Too risky."

So I trotted up the ramp to the main floor and went to the deputy vice's office and then I thought: "I've got a big thing here, why bother with the small fry?" I did a turnabout and went straight to the controller's suite. I knew it would be tough to get in because the controller has live secretaries—no voders. He also happens to have four receptionists. Beautiful, but tough.

The first never saw me. I breezed right by and was in the second anteroom before she could say: "What is it, pa-lee-azz?" The second was warned by the bang of the door and grabbed hold of my arm as I tried to go through. I got past anyway, with two of them holding on, but number three added her lovely heft and I bogged down. By this time I was within earshot of the controller so I screamed: "Down with Stability!"

Sure I did. I also shouted: "Stability is all wrong! I'm for Chaos. Hurray for Chaos!" and a lot more like that. The receptionists were shocked to death and one of them put in a call for emergency and a couple of guys hanging around were all for boffing me. I kept on downing with Stability and fighting toward the sanctum sanctorum et cetera and having a wonderful time because the three girls hanging on to me were strictly class and I happily suffocated on Exuberant No. 5. Finally the controller came out to see what made.

They let go of me and the controller said: "What's the meaning of this?... Oh, it's you."

I said: "Excuse it, please."

"Is this your idea of a joke, Carmichael?"

"No, sir, but it was the only quick way to get to you."

"Sorry, Carmichael, but it's a little too quick."

I said: "Wait a minute, sir."

"Sorry, I'm extremely busy." He looked worried and impatient all at once.

I said: "You've got to give me a moment in private."

"Impossible. See my secretary." He turned toward his office.

"Please, sir—"

He waved his hand and started through the door. I took a jump and caught him by the elbow. He was sputtering furiously when I swung him around, but I got my arms around him and gave him a hug. When my mouth was against his ear I whispered: "I've been upstairs in the Prog Building. I know!"

He stared at me and his jaw dropped. After a couple of vague gestures with his hands he motioned me in with a jerk of his head. I marched straight into the controller's office and almost fell down dead. The stabilizer was there. Yeah, old Jehovah Groating himself, standing before the window. All he needed was the stone tablets in his arms—or is it thunderbolts?

I felt very, very sober, my friends, and not very smart any more because the stabilizer is a sobering sight no matter how you kid about him. I nodded politely and waited for the controller to shut the door. I was wishing I could be on the other side of the door. Also I was wishing I'd never gone upstairs into the Prog Building.

The controller said: "This is John Carmichael, Mr. Groating, a reporter for the Times."

We both said: "How-d'you-do?" only Groating said it out loud. I just moved my lips.

The controller said: "Now, Carmichael, what's this about the Prog Building?"

"I went upstairs, sir."

He said: "You'll have to speak a little louder."

I cleared my throat and said: "I went upstairs, sir."

"You what!"

"W-went upstairs."

This time lightning really did flash from the C-S's eyes.

I said: "If I've made trouble for anyone, I'm sorry. I've been wanting to get up there for years and ... and when I got the chance today, I couldn't resist it—" Then I told them how I sneaked up and what I did.

The controller made a terrible fuss about the whole affair, and I knew—don't ask me how, I simply knew—that something drastic was going to be done about it unless I talked plenty fast. By this time, though, the clues in my head were beginning to fall into place. I turned directly to the C-S and I said: "Sir, Prog stands for Prognostication, doesn't it?"

There was silence. Finally Groating nodded slowly.

I said: "You've got some kind of fortuneteller up there. You go up every afternoon and get your fortune told. Then you come out and tell the press about it as though you all thought it up by yourselves. Right?"

The controller sputtered, but Groating nodded again.

I said: "This afternoon the end of the Universe was prognosticated."

Another silence. At last Groating sighed wearily. He shut the controller up with a wave of his hand and said: "It seems Mr. Carmichael does know enough to make things awkward all around."

The controller burst out: "It's no fault of mine. I always insisted on a thorough guard system. If we had guarded the—"

"Guards," Groating interrupted, "would only have upset existing Stability. They would have drawn attention and suspicion. We were forced to take the chance of a slip-up. Now that it's happened we must make the best of it."

I said: "Excuse me, sir. I wouldn't have come here just to boast. I could have kept quiet about it. What bothers me is what bothered you?"

Groating stared at me for a moment, then turned away and began to pace up and down the room. There was no anger in his attitude; if there had been, I wouldn't have been as scared as I was. It was a big room and he did a lot of pacing and I could see he was coldly analyzing the situation and deciding what was to be done with me. That frigid appraisal had me trembling.

I said: "I'll give............