Frank tried to find a silver lining. “It’ll be an awfully interesting example of cross-breeding,” he remarked.
“What’ll we do?” Mercy was wringing her hands.
“What can we do? We’ll just have to wait until they’re through.”
“Oh!” Mercy took out her frustration at the situation on Frank. “I never want to see you again!”
“Ditto!” Frank agreed. “Most devoutly ditto, lady!”
“Most devoutly ditto, lady!” Late that afternoon Frank repeated the words as he sat in the computer room of the Venus observatory and finished relating his misadventures to “Fig” Newton.
“Oh, my!” “Fig” wiped his eyes. “I don’t know when I’ve heard anything so funny.”
“Funny to you, maybe,” Frank pointed out. “Not to me.”
“Well, it serves you right. Holding out on an old college buddy. A frat brother, no less.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you didn’t even tell me you were going to be a guinea pig.”
“Sorry. I was afraid you might have watched.”
“I would have,” “Fig” admitted.
“And that would have left me limp,” Frank confessed.
“I see what you mean. Okay, so all is forgiven. But how come you’re telling me now?”
“I just had to talk to someone. I called the Swami Rhee Va, but they said he was in a trance and that might last for days. I thought of Professor Woocheck, but he’s in conference. So I decided to come up here and unburden myself to you.”
“Third choice!” “Fig” was insulted.
“Don’t be like that.” Frank didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “After all, we’re frat brothers and all that jazz.”
“Don’t tell me you’re willing to admit the old nostalgia to yourself at last?” “Fig” crowed happily.
“I guess so. Every man has to have at least one friend he can tell his troubles to. I guess you’re it for me.”
“What have I been trying to tell you?” “Fig” beamed. “That’s life.”
“What’s life?”
“A magazine.” “Fig” was delighted.
“Where do you get it?” Frank asked resignedly.
“At the corner newsstand.”
“How much is it?”
“Thirty-five cents.” “Fig” hopped up and down with glee.
“Why does it cost so much?”
“That’s life!” “Fig” was ecstatic.
“What’s life? No! Wait a minute. That’s enough,” Frank added hastily.
“It was great though, wasn’t it?” “Fig” enthused. “Didn’t it take you back?”
“I enjoyed it very much.” Frank placated him. “But the thing is, Fig, what am I going to do? Every time I turn around I bump into that damn girl. How can I forget her if that keeps on happening? It’s hard enough trying to get her out of my mind.”
“That’s the whole trouble, old buddy,” “Fig” told him. “It is all in your mind. A few coincidences and you’ve built a federal case out of it. What you need is to go out with some other girl, have some fun, get your mind off what’s bugging you.”
“Maybe you’re right. Trouble is I don’t really know any girls any more. Since I’ve embraced Causocratic Effectivism, I’ve been out of circulation.”
“I’ll fix you up with a blind date,” “Fig” offered.
“Oh, no!”
“Why not?”
“Because it would just have to turn out to be that same chick, that’s why. Wait a minute!” Frank had a sudden idea. “I’ll call up this girl Gloria I used to date.”
“Uh—uh, old buddy. Sorry,” “Fig” told him. “I’m afraid Gloria’s out.”
“What do you mean? You don’t even know her.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I know her very well indeed. Truth is we’ve been shacking up together the last few months.”
“But how did you happen to meet—” A sudden suspicion dawned on Frank. “That first night you called my apartment about the Professor. You called back!” he accused “Fig.”
“Guilty. But don’t feel too bad about it, old buddy. It’s all in the fraternity.”
“Some buddy you are!” Frank was indignant.
“Don’t take it like that. You’re not going to let some fluff come between us, are you?”
“No. To tell the truth, I don’t really care. Gloria didn’t really mean anything to me. You can have my blessing.”
“That’s the spirit. Now why not let me make amends by fixing you up with a blind date?”
“I don’t dare.”
“You mean you really believe that same chick would show up? Oh, come on now, Frank, that isn’t logical.”
“The Swami Rhee Va says logic is a trap. And I wouldn’t dare take the chance without consulting with him about the possible results before going out on a blind date.”
“Suppose I can prove to you that your fears are mathematically groundless?” “Fig” suggested after thinking a moment.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ll feed the situation into the computer and ask for an evaluation of the odds against your meeting the same broad on a blind date.”
“Gee, I don’t know.” Frank was doubtful. “Can that machine of yours really judge a problem like that? I mean, isn’t it kind of abstract?”
“No problem’s too abstract for Cupid here.” “Fig” patted the computer fondly. “Why, it even came up with an answer for the theological question which has beset mankind all through the ages.”
“What question?”
“Is there a God?”
“And what was the answer it came up with?”
“Well, it gave it a lot of consideration. Gears whirred and wheels turned and levers were tripped and retripped and lights flashed on and off. I tell you, I didn’t really think it was going to get unstymied. But in the end it delivered.”
“What was the answer?” Frank asked doggedly. “Is there a God? What did your gismo say?”
“ ‘There is now!”’ “Fig” chortled. “That was its answer. Now, what do you say? Shall we give it a crack at your anxiety?”
“Well, all right.” Frank agreed reluctantly.
“Good.” “Fig” rubbed his hands together. Humming to himself, he sat down in front of the electric typewriter and typed steadily for about five minutes. Then he yanked the sheet from the roller and handed it to Frank. “Read that and tell me if I’ve got it all right,” he instructed him. Frank read it. “That’s the situation,” he admitted when he was through.
“Fine and dandy.” “Fig” took the sheet back and inserted it in one of the computer feed-slots. There was a slight whirring and a moment later he extracted the sheet along with a small answer-card attached to it. “One chance in eighteen billion, seven hundred and eighty-three million, nine hundred seventy-two thousand, four hundred and sixteen!” he announced triumphantly.
“One in eighteen billion, seven hundred eighty-three million, nine-seven-two thousand, four hundred seventeen,” Frank reflected. “That’s pretty long odds, isn’t it?”
“Four sixteen,” “Fig” corrected him. “Damn right those are long odds. That’s damn near infinity, buddy. Now what do you say? With odds like that going for you, let me fix you up with a blind date tonight.”
“Well, I guess I’ve taken all the precautions Swami Rhee Va could ask,” Frank reflected. “Okay. Fix me up.”
“Don’t worry, buddy, you’re as good as fixed. I’ll call you later about the where and when.” “Fig” escorted Frank to the door. After he’d left, the computer engineer sat down and riffled through his little black book. Suddenly he snapped his fingers and tossed the book aside. “I’rn going to make sure old Frank’s absolutely safe,” he told himself. “I’m going to fix him up with the one girl who couldn’t possibly be the nemesis that’s bugging him. If she’ll go, that is . . .”
Three floors below “Fig,” Mercy had just finished telling Dr. Peerloin of her latest encounter with her nemesis.