and Two, and Three, and
Four, and Five, and Six. And you were always good to me and
understanding. Don't you remember?"

And then McGuire's voice--human, masculine, and not distorted at all
by the reproduction system, but sounding rather stilted and terribly
logical: "I remember, Jack. The memory banks of my previous
activations are available."

"_All_ of them? Can you remember everything?"

"I can remember everything that is in my memory banks."

The girl's voice rose to a wail. "But you _don't_ remember! You
_always_ forgot things! They took things out each time you were
reactivated, don't you remember?"

"I cannot remember that which is not contained in my memory banks,
Jack. That is a contradiction in terms."

"But I was always able to _fix_ it before!" The tears in her eyes were
audible in her voice. "I'd tell you to remember, and I'd tell you
_what_ to remember, and you'd _remember_ it! Tell me what's happened
to you this time!"

"I cannot tell you. The information is not in my data banks."

Slowly, I got to my feet. Two gees isn't much, once you get used to
it. The headache had subsided to a dull, bearable throb.

I was on a couch in a room just below the control chamber, and Jack
Ravenhurst's voice was coming down from above. McGuire's voice was all
around me, coming from the hidden speakers that were everywhere in
the ship.

"But why won't you obey me any more, McGuire?" she asked.

"I'll answer that, McGuire," I said.

Jack's voice came weakly from the room above. "Mr. Oak? Dan? Thank
heaven you're all right!"

"No thanks to you, though," I said. I was trying to climb the ladder
to the control room, and my voice sounded strained.

"You've got to do something!" she said with a touch of hysteria.
"McGuire is taking us straight toward Cygnus at two gees and won't
stop."

My thinking circuits began to take over again. "Cut the thrust to half
a gee, McGuire. Ease it down. Take a minute to do it."

"Yes, sir."

The gravity pull of acceleration let up slowly as I clung to the
ladder. After a minute, I climbed on up to the control room.

Jack Ravenhurst was lying on the acceleration couch, looking
swollen-faced and ill. I sat down on the other couch.

"I'm sorry I hit you," she said. "Really."

"I believe you. How long have we been moving, McGuire?"

"Three hours, twelve minutes, seven seconds, sir," said McGuire.

"I didn't want anyone to know," Jack said. "Not anyone. That's why I
hit