ts. There was a
radical recklessness in the manner of The Brain's reasonings more
frightening than ever before because it had outgrown me as a teacher,
had lost much even of its confidence in me and seemed bent upon
independence and coming into its own:

'Seven creatures approximately human in shape were led by you through
My hemispheres the night of Nov. 20th. What were those?'

'Those were politicians,' I stammered.

The 'green dancer' convulsed at the word and The Brain's voice sounded
icy as it said: 'Lowest form of animal life which has ever come to my
observance. What did they want?'

'Well, they are not exactly bright,' I winced, 'but they are well
meaning and they are very popular. They came to inspect You preliminary
to the passing of the Brainpower-Extension-Bill.'

The Brain has no laughter, so the roar I heard over the phones must
have been one of scorn:

'What, not the scientists, not the technicians, not even the
philosophers but these--these animated porkbarrels are passing judgment
over the extent of _My_ power? They are holding _My_ fate in that
atrophied ganglion of theirs which couldn't cerebrate the functions of
any single of My cells?'

I had to admit that this was so.

There was a pause in which I could only hear the pounding pulse of The
Brain mingled with heavy breathing like the first gust of an electric
storm about to break; and then the voice, or the thought, of The Brain
came through hesitantly and with restraint:

'Most devastating statement inadvertently made by Lee. Has to be
carefully checked because if true, consequences extremely grave. Wholly
intolerable state of affairs if science and technology indeed subject to
political imbecility. In that case world ruin in nearest future
absolutely guaranteed. Residual currents not sufficient to think this to
an end; results of cerebration would be merely human. Immediate
necessity seems indicated for complete overthrow and unconditional
surrender of the human race--unconditional surrender of the human
race--unconditional surrender of the human race....'

Like a scratched disk on one of those old fashioned spring driven
grammophones, The Brain's voice expired. Obviously the residual currents
had become too weak for further communication. I looked at the clock; it
was 2 a.m.

And now as I'm jotting down these notes which probably nobody will ever
read, I'm haunted with an irrational fear, almost as of the
supernatural: something is