already distrust computer decisions, as in the case of the British
hunting boots--you surely don't want to see them in full control."

"Hardly," said Lindsay. "But at the same time I have no desire to be
assassinated or to be the cause of an Earth-Mars war."

"Think it over, Zalen," said Anderson. "I need hardly tell you that I am
not speaking for myself alone." He got up, put down his glass, bade
Maria farewell and left the Martian alone with her.

When he had gone Lindsay looked at the girl, who returned his gaze quite
openly for a long moment before her eyes fell away. He said, "Somehow
the senator and you seem an odd combination."

She made no pretense of misunderstanding but said candidly, "Perhaps I
am neurotic in my distrust of computers but I cannot help that. Those of
us who have any true sensitivity unblunted by the psycho-mechanistics of
the era all share this distrust. It is natural, since we are few and
weak, that we should seek what allies we can find among the strong."

"I've always heard that politics makes strange bedfellows," said Lindsay
casually.

It was obvious that he had committed a _faux pas_. Maria's blush
returned and her expression froze. Lindsay cursed himself for a fool.
With the development of all sorts of pneumatic resting devices the word
_bed_ had become not only obsolete but definitely distasteful in
well-bred Tellurian circles. Its use was as decried as was that of the
word _bloody_ in Victorian England.

She said angrily, "I assure you, Mr. Lindsay, that Senator Anderson and
I have never...." Voice and anger faded alike as she apparently realized
that Lindsay had not intended insult.

He let her mix a second drink for both of them. Then, standing close to
her and noting the smooth perfection of her creamy white skin, "I wonder
if your father knows that he is nourishing a subversive in his family."

She said with a trace of impatience, "Oh, poor papa never sees the trees
for the forest."

"You're a damned unhappy girl, aren't you?" he asked her. He didn't need
an answer, but realized she wanted to talk about it.

She said, her eyes shining suspiciously, "You're right, of course, I'm
very unhappy--constricted in behavior by my father's position, unable to
say aloud what I really think, how I really feel. Sometimes I think I
must be living in some Gothic poet's dream of loneliness."

"Contrary to the beliefs of most psychiatrists," said Lindsay,
half-touched, half-appalled b