one-sided grin seemed to fade slightly but she hooked
it up again fast. A doll--like I said. This was the original model,
they've never gone into production on girls like her full-time.

She said, "Therefore, I've got no right to go stalking with a salt
shaker in one hand and a pair of shears for your tailfeathers in the
other."

"You're cute, Doll," I said, still going along with her one hundred
percent.

"Nice--we get along nice."

"Somebody oughta set 'em up on that."

"So far."

"Huh?" I blinked. I hate sour notes. That's why I'm not a musician.
You never get a sour note in a jet job--or if you do you don't get
annoyed. That's the sour note to end all sour notes.

"Brace yourself, Baby," she said.

I took a hitch on the highball glass I was holding and let one eye get
a serious look in it. "Shoot," I told her.

"This new job--this new saucer the TV newscasts are blatting about.
You boys in the Air Force heard about it yet?"

"There's been a rumor," I said. I frowned. Top secret--in a pig's
eyelash!

"Uh-huh. Is it true this particular ship is supposed to carry a pilot
this time?"

"Where do they dig up all this old stuff?" I growled. "Hell, I knew
all about that way way back this afternoon already."

"Uh-huh, Is it also true they've asked a flyboy named Eddie Anders to
take it up the first time? This flyboy named Eddie Anders being my
Baby?"

I got bored with the highball. I tossed it down the hole in my head
and put the glass on a table. "You're psychic," I said.

She shrugged. "Good looking, maybe. Nice shape, maybe. Peachy
disposition, maybe. Psychic, unh-unhh. But who else would they ask to
do it?"

"A point," I conceded.

"Fork in the road coming up," the Doll said.

"Huh?"

"Fork--look. It'll be voluntary, won't it? You don't have to do it?
They won't think the worse of you if you refuse?"

"_Huh?_" I gawked at her.

"I'm scared, Baby."

Her eyes weren't blue anymore. They'd been blue before but not now.
Now they were violet balls that were laying me like somebody taking a
last long look at the thing down inside the nice white satin before
they close the cover on it for the final time.

"Have a drink, Doll," I said. I got up, went to the liquor wagon.
"Seltzer? There isn't any mixer left."

"Asked you something, Baby."

I took her glass over. I handed it to her. My own drink I poured down
that same hole in my head. I said finally, "Nice smooth bourbon but I
like scotch bett