“Not that kind, anyway.”
“Then I’m washed up,” Gallegher sighed. “Well, what about—”
At this point the visor hummed. A blank, transparent face grew on the screen. Gears were clicking rapidly inside the round head. Patsy gave a small shriek and shrank back.
“Tell Gallegher Joe’s here, you lucky girl,” a squeaky voice announced. “You may treasure the sound and sight of me till your dying day. One touch of beauty in a world of drabness—”
Gallegher circled the desk and looked at the screen. “What the hell. How did you come to life?”
“I had a problem to solve.”
“How’d you know where to reach me?”
“I vastened you,” the robot said.
“What?”
“I vastened you were at the VoxView studios, with Patsy Brock.”
“What’s vastened?” Gallegher wanted to know.
“It’s a sense I’ve got. You’ve nothing remotely like it, so I can’t describe it to you. It’s like a combination of sagrazi and prescience.”
“Sagrazi?”
“Oh, you don’t have sagrazi, either, do you. Well, don’t waste my time. I want to go back to the mirror.”
“Does he always talk like that?” Patsy put in.
“Nearly always. Sometimes it makes even less sense. O.K., Joe. Now what?”
“You’re not working for Brock any more,” the robot said. “You’re working for the Sonatone people.”
Gallegher breathed deeply. “Keep talking. You’re crazy, though.”
“I don’t like Kennicott. He annoys me. He’s too ugly. His vibrations grate on my sagrazi.”
-
“Never mind him,” Gallegher said, not wishing to discuss his diamond-buying activities before the girl. “Get back to—”
“But I knew Kennicott would keep coming back till he got his money. So when Ella and James Tone came to the laboratory, I got a check from them.”
Patsy’s hand gripped Gallegher’s biceps. “Steady! What’s going on here? The old double cross?”
“No. Wait. Let me get to the bottom of this. Joe, damn your transparent hide, just what did you do?
How could you get a check from the Tones?”
“I pretended to be you.” -
“Sure,” Gallegher said with savage sarcasm. “That explains it. We’re twins. We look exactly alike.”
“I hypnotized them,” Joe explained. “I made them think I was you.”
“You can do that?”
“Yes. It surprised me a bit. Still, if I’d thought, I’d have vastened I could do it.”
“You, yeah, sure. I’d have vastened the same thing myself. What happened?”
“The Tones must have suspected Brock would ask you to help him.
They offered an exclusive contract-you work for them and nobody else.
Lots of money. Well, I pretended to be you, and said all right. So I signed the contract-it’s your signature, by the way-and got a check from them and mailed it to Kennicott.”
“The whole check?” Gallegher asked feebly. “How much was it?”
“Twelve thousand.”
“They only offered me that?”
“No,” the robot said, “they offered a hundred thousand, and two thousand a week for five years. But I merely wanted enough to pay Kennicott and make sure he wouldn’t come back and bother me. The Tones were satisfied when I said twelve thousand would be enough.”
Gallegher made an inarticulate, gurgling sound deep in his throat. Joe nodded thoughtfully.
“I thought I had better notify you that you’re working for Sonatone now. Well, I’ll go back to the mirror and sing to myself.”
“Wait,” the scientist said. “Just wait, Joe. With my own two hands I’m going to rip you gear from gear and stamp on your fragments.”
“It won’t hold in court,” Patsy said, gulping.
“It will,” Joe told her cheerily. “You may have one last, satisfying look at me, and then I must go.”
He went.
Gallegher drained his Collins at a draft. “I’m shocked sober,” he informed the girl. “What did I put into that robot? What abnormal senses has he got? Hypnotizing people into believing he’s me-I’m him-I don’t know what I mean.”
-
“Is this a gag?” Patsy said shortly, after a pause. “You didn’t sign up with Sonatone yourself, by any chance, and have your robot call up here to give you an out-an alibi? I’m just wondering.”
“Don’t. Joe signed a contract with Sonatone, not me. But-figure it out: If the signature’s a perfect copy of mine, if Joe hypnotized the Tones into thinking they saw me instead of him, if there are witnesses to the signature-the two Tones are witnesses, of course-Oh, hell.”
Patsy’s eyes were narrowed. “We’ll pay you as much as Sonatone offered. On a contingent basis. But you’re working for VoxView-that’s understood.”
“Sure.”
Gallegher looked longingly at his empty glass. Sure. He was working for VoxView. But, to all legal appearances, he had signed a contract giving his exclusive services to Sonatone for a period of five years-and for a sum of twelve thousand! Yipe! What was it they’d offered? A hundred thousand flat, and… and-It wasn’t the principle of the thing, it was the money. Now Gallegher was sewed up tighter than a banded pigeon. If Sonatone could win a court suit, he was legally bound to them for five years.
With no further emolument. He had to get out of that contract, somehow-and at the same time solve Brock’s problem.
Why not Joe? The robot, with his surprising talents, had got Gallegher into this spot. He ought to be able to get the scientist out. He’d better-or the proud robot would soon be admiring himself piecemeal.
“That’s it,” Gallegher said under his breath. “I’ll talk to Joe. Patsy, feed me liquor in a hurry and send me to the technical department. I want to see those blueprints.”
The girl looked at him suspiciously. “All right. If you try to sell us out—”
“I’ve been sold out myself. Sold down the river. I’m afraid of that robot. He’s vastened me into quite a spot. That’s right, Collinses.” Gallegher drank long and deeply.
After that, Patsy took him to the tech offices. The reading of three-dimensional blueprints was facilitated with a scanner-a selective device which eliminated confusion. Gallegher studied the plans long and thoughtfully. There were copies of the patent Sonatone prints, too, and, as far as he could tell, Sonatone had covered the ground beautifully. There weren’t any outs. Unless one used an entirely new principle-But new principles couldn’t be plucked out of the air. Nor would that solve the problem completely. Even if VoxView owned a new type of enlarger that didn’t infringe on Sonatone’s Magna, the bootleg theaters would still be in existence, pulling the trade. A. A.-audience appeal-was a prime factor now. It had to be considered. The puzzle wasn’t a purely scientific one. There was the human equation as well.
Gallegher stored the necessary information in his mind, neatly indexed on shelves. Later he’d use what he wanted. For the moment, he was completely baffled. Something worried him.
What? -The Sonatone affair.
“I want to get in touch with the Tones,” he told Patsy. “Any ideas?”
“I can reach ’em on a visor.”
Gallegher shook his head. “Psychological handicap. It’s too easy to break the connection.”
“Well, if you’re in a hurry, you’ll probably find the boys night clubbing. I’ll go see what I can find out.” Patsy scuttled off, and Silver O’Keefe appeared from behind a screen.
“I’m shameless,” she announced. “I always listen at keyholes. Sometimes I hear interesting things. If you want to see the Tones, they’re at the Castle Club. And I think I’ll take you up on that drink.”
Gallegher said, “O.K. You get a taxi. I’ll tell Patsy we’re going.”
“She’ll hate that,” Silver remarked. “Meet you outside the commissary in ten minutes. Get a shave while you’re at it.”