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Updated: June 9, 2025
Then, he put the data back in the safe and felt the hot, excitement surge up through his body. "I'm afraid I owe you a drink," Entman said ruefully. "You were right. When I got back to the office, he was gone." Brent Taber grinned, but only with his mouth his eyes remained somber and weary. "The data was back in the safe?" "Right where I put it. I'll swear it hadn't been moved."
The two hearts indicate that they knew the elements contained in our air the pressures and so forth necessary to our existence and were unable to construct a working model that would function under our conditions with a single heart. So they put in two." "It looks as though they missed on some other things, too. Seven of the androids have expired." Entman shrugged.
Afraid to spit if some Washington bureaucrat wagged a finger. Well, the hell with Corson. The hell with Taber. The hell with all of them. If Les King stood to make an honest buck, he was going to do his damnedest until somebody passed a law making it illegal. Brent Taber was drawn to Doctor Entman. He found, in the ugly little scientist, a rapport that seemed to exist nowhere else.
The door opened quickly too quickly, it seemed and King realized he'd struck a pay lode in the myopic-looking little jerk who stood peering out at him. The guy wore a white laboratory coat with two bloodstains on it and was holding a scalpel in his hand. "I'm Doctor Entman. Can I help you?" Entman Entman for Christ sake. Oh, sure, a neurologist. Had to be the same guy. International authority.
Entman had the evidence before his eyes but he still couldn't get the concept of alien creatures from space really taking us over. It was too unbelievable. Am I the only one who really believes it? He asked himself this question as he hailed a cab in the street and watched a fat man in a bowler hat slip in and take it away from him. "You're slipping, Taber," he muttered.
Some people are calling that I must see an appointment I forgot." "Not at all," Les King assured him. "I'd like to do a little work on these notes to see if I left out anything." "So good of you. Boring people, really. I'll get rid of them as soon as possible." Entman left through an inner door and King was stunned by his good luck.
Entman would, no doubt, lock the safe before he left the office. Burglary a risk King was willing to take would get him back into the office when no one was around, but how could he open the safe? Walking straight to the thing he was after had been fine. Having been put in a position to get to know what the notes looked like was another astounding piece of good fortune.
Les mused. Something definitely worth looking into, that was for sure. He reached for his pants. Dr. Rudolph Entman, one of the world's foremost neurologists, stripped off his rubber gloves and scowled at the strange body that lay on the table before him. "Goddamn it," he fumed, "it's artificially constructed. It's been hand-made manufactured.
"Do the people inside really believe?" Entman asked. "It's pretty difficult to tell. Sometimes I wonder what my own real feelings are." "I wasn't completely briefed on how it ended," Entman said delicately. "I think the phony specifications got through." "If they did if things are really as they appear " Taber smiled in the darkness. "Are you beginning to doubt, Doctor?"
"Wouldn't they?" he asked lamely. "I mean, they couldn't theoretically, at least react to situations ... or other people's emotions." Doctor Entman nodded his head and murmured, "I would be inclined to agree.
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