"Heck no."

"Well, you're so different from me. You have no real sense of this task. Coming here to this bar... it was a momentary impulse that you yielded to. Maury and Bob and your dad and the Stanton are back at MASA with the Lincoln--you have no consciousness of that because you _want_ to sit in a bar and have a drink." She smiled at me genially, tolerantly.

"Suppose so," I said.

"I'm boring you, aren't I? You really have no interest in me; you're only interested in yourself."

"That's so. I realize you're right."

"Why did you say you wanted to know everything about me? Why did you say you were almost in love with me except that fear held you back?"

"I dunno."

"Don't you ever try to look yourself in the face and understand your own motives? I'm always analyzing myself."

I said, "Pris, be sensible for a moment. You're only one person among many, no better and no worse. Thousands of Americans go to--are right now in--mental health clinics, get schizophrenia and are committed under the McHeston Act. You're attractive, I'll admit, but any number of movie starlets in Sweden and Italy are more so. Your intelligence is--"

"It's yourself you're trying to convince."

"Pardon?" I said, taken aback.

"You're the one who idolizes me and is fighting against recognizing it," Pris said calmly.

I pushed away my drink. "Let's get back to MASA." The alcohol made my cut lip burn searingly.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" For a moment she looked disconcerted; she was thinking back over what she had said, amending it, improving it. "I mean, you're ambivalent about me..."

I took hold of her arm. "Finish your beer and let's leave."

As we left the bar she said wanly, "You're sore at me again."

"No."

"I try to be nice to you but I always rub people the wrong way when I make a deliberate effort to be polite to them and say what I ought to say... it's wrong of me to be artificial. I told you I shouldn't adopt a set of behavior-patterns that are false to me. It never works out." She spoke accusingly, as if it had been my idea.

"Listen," I said, as we got back into the car and set out into the traffic. "We'll go back and resume our dedicated task of making Sam Barrows the core of all that we do-- right?"

"No," Pris said. "Only I can do that. That's not within your power."

I patted her on the shoulder. "You know, I'm much more sympathetic to you, too, than I was. I think we're beginning to work out a very good, wholesome, stable relationship between us."

"Maybe so," Pris said, unaware of any overtone of sarcasm. She smiled at me. "I hope so, Louis. People should understand one another."

When we got back to MASA, Maury greeted us excitedly. "What took you so long?" He produced a piece of paper. "I sent a wire to Sam Barrows. Read it--here." He pushed it into my hands.

Uneasily, I unfolded the paper and read Maury's writing.

ADVISE YOU FLY HERE AT ONCE. LINCOLN SIMULACRUM IN-

CREDIBLE SUCCESS. REQUEST YOUR DECISION. SAVING ITEM

FOR YOUR FIRST INSPECTION AS PER PHONE CALL. EXCEEDS

WILDEST HOPES. EXPECT TO HEAR FROM YOU WITHIN DAY.

MAURY ROCK,

MASA ASSOCIATES

"Has he answered yet?" I asked.

"Not yet, but we just phoned in the wire."

There was a commotion and Bob Bundy appeared. To me he said, "Mr. Lincoln asked me to express his regrets and find out how you are." He looked pretty shaky, himself.

"Tell him I'm okay." I added, "And thank him."

"Right." Bundy departed; the office door shut after him. To Maury I said, "I have to admit it, Rock. You're onto something. I was wrong."

"Thanks for coming around."

Pris said, "You're wasting your thanks on him." Puffing on his Corina agitatedly Maury said, "We've got a lot of work ahead of us. I know we'll get Barrows' interest now. But what we have to be careful of--" He lowered his voice. "A man like that could sweep us aside like a lot of kindling. Am I right, buddy?"

"Right," I answered. I had thought of that, too.

"He's probably done it a million times to small operators along the way. We got to close ranks, all four of us; five, if you include Bob Bundy. Right?" He looked around at Pris and me and my dad.

My dad said, "Maury, maybe you should take this to the Federal Government." He looked timidly at me. "_Hab' Ich nicht Recht, mein Sohn?_"

"He's already contacted Barrows," I said. "For all we know, Barrows is on his way here."

"We could tell him no," Maury said, "even if he shows up. If we feel this should go to Washington, D.C., instead."

"Ask the Lincoln," I said.

"What?" Pris said sharply. "Oh for god's sake."

"I mean it," I said. "Get its advice."

"What would a hick politician from the last century know about Sam K. Barrows?" Pris shot at me sardonically.

In as calm a voice as possible I said, "Pris, watch it. Honest to god."

Maury said quickly, "Let's not get to quarreling. We all have a right to express our opinions. I think we should go ahead and show the Lincoln to Barrows and if for some crazy reason--" He broke off. The office phone was ringing. Striding over he picked it up. "MASA ASSOCIATES. Maury Rock speaking."

Silence.

Turning toward us Maury mouthed silently: _Barrows_.

That's it, I said to myself. The die is cast.

"Yes, sir," Maury was saying into the phone. "We'll pick you up at the Boise airfield. Yes, we'll see you there." His face glowed; he winked at me.

To my dad I said, "Where's the Stanton?"

"What, _mein Sohn?_"

"The Stanton simulacrum--I don't see it around." Recalling its expression of hostility toward the Lincoln I got up and went over to where Pris stood trying to hear the other end of Maury's phone conversation. "Where's the Stanton?" I said loudly to her.

"I don't know. Bundy put it somewhere; it's probably down in the shop."

"Wait a minute." Maury lowered the phone. To me, with a strange expression on his face, he said, "The Stanton is in Seattle. With Barrows."

"Oh no," I heard Pris say.

Maury said, "It took the Greyhound bus last night. Got there this morning and looked him right up. Barrows says he's been having a good long talk with it." Maury covered the phone with his hand. "He hasn't gotten our wire yet. It's the Stanton he's interested in. Shall I tell him about the Lincoln?"

"You might as well," I said. "He'll be getting the wire."

"Mr. Barrows," Maury said into the phone, "we just sent you a wire. Yes--we have the Lincoln electronic simulacrum operating and it's an incredible success, even more so than the Stanton." Glancing at me with an uneasy grimace he said, "Sir, you'll be accompanied on the plane flight by the Stanton, will you not? We're anxious to get it back." Silence, and then Maury once more lowered the phone. "Barrows says the Stanton told him it intends to stay in Seattle a day or so and look at the sights. It intends to get a haircut and visit the library and if it likes the town maybe even think about opening a law office and settling down there."

"Christ's cross," Pris said, clenching her fists. "Tell Barrows to talk it into coming back here!"

Maury said into the phone, "Can't you persuade it to come with you, Mr. Barrows?" Again silence. "It's gone," Maury said to us, this time not covering the phone. "It said goodbye to Barrows and took off." He frowned, looking deeply distressed.

I said, "Anyhow, finish up as to the flight."

"Right." Maury drew himself together and again addressed the phone. "I'm sure the damn thing'll be all right; it had money, didn't it?" Silence. "And you gave it twenty dollars, too; good. Anyhow, we'll see you. The Lincoln one is even better. Yes sir. Thanks. Goodbye." He hung up and sat staring down at the floor, his lips twisting. "I didn't even notice it was gone. You think it was sore about the Lincoln? Maybe so; it's got one hell of a temper."