mess of arbitrary symbols, and there'll be something like a
computer-machine built into the control cabinet, to select the right
time line whenever a dial's set or a button pushed, and the only way
that could be done would be by establishing some kind of a numerical
series. And we were trustingly expecting to locate their base from one
of their conveyers! Why, if we give all those people in the pictures
narco-hyps, we won't learn the base-line designation; none of them
will know it. They just go where the conveyers take them."

"Well, we're all set now," Ranthar Jard said. "I have a plan of attack
worked out; subject to your approval, I'm ready to start implementing
it now." He glanced at his watch. "The Salgath telecast is over, on
Home Time Line, and in a little while, a transcript will be on this
time line. Want to watch it here, sir?"

* * * * *

The telecast screen in the living room of Tortha Karf's town apartment
was still on; in it, a girl with bright red hair danced slowly to soft
music against a background of shifting color. The four men who sat in
a semicircle facing it sipped their drinks and watched idly.

"Ought to be getting some sort of public reaction soon," Tortha Karf
said, glancing at his watch.

"Well, I'll have to admit, it was done convincingly," Zostha Olv, the
Chief Interoffice Coördinator, admitted grudgingly. "I'd have believed
it, if I hadn't known the real facts."

"Shooting it against the background of those wide windows was smart,"