an A.C." He frowned.
"According to the computers I was in. There's going to be hell to pay
over my muffing it."

"How do you feel about that?" the Martian asked him.

O'Ryan shrugged. "It's okay by me," he said. "They can hardly degrade me
for fouling up this kind of a job. I'll simply tell them their
information was incomplete. No one knew you knew _judo_." He eyed the
gin, added, "A good thing you didn't feed me whiskey. I'm allergic to
all grain products--even in alcohol. Comes from being fed too much
McCann's Irish oatmeal when I was a kid."

"Interesting," said Lindsay, wondering how the conversation had taken
this turn. "What does whiskey do to you?"

The gladiator shuddered. "It usually hits me about twenty-four hours
afterward. Makes my eyes water so I can't see much. I've got a match at
the Colosseum tomorrow night. I hope you'll be there."

"So do I," said Lindsay dryly. "You wouldn't know _who_ gave you this
little chore on me, would you?"

"Not likely," said the gladiator. "When we report at the club every
evening we find our assignments stuck in our boxes. Usually we get
orders to meet a dame. This was something different."

"I see what you mean," Lindsay told him.

O'Ryan got up, said, "Well, I might as well be running along. I'll give
them hell for fouling up the computer-prophecy. Look me up after the
match tomorrow. And thanks for not having me pinched. I might have had
to spend the night in a cell. That's bad for conditioning."

"You're quite welcome," said Lindsay, feeling like a character in a
semi-nightmare. "Will I be seeing you again--this way?"

"Unlikely," the gladiator told him. "They'll have to run a lot of checks
on you after this before they try again. See you tomorrow."

Lindsay looked after his visitor with amazement. Then it occurred to him
that computers were substituting not only for human judgment but for
human conscience as well. And this, he felt certain, was important.

Turning in on his contour couch, Lindsay recalled that he had given
whiskey to the allergic athlete. He decided then and there that he would
be in attendance at the match in the Colosseum that evening.

* * * * *

He got to his office about eleven o'clock. His desk was stacked high
with messages, written and taped, and all sorts of folk wished to talk
with him on the vidarphone. Nina, looking more slovenly than ever, had
arranged them neatly, according to their nature an