"But you're not supposed to be off the premises--"
"Marge asked me to come. I couldn't tell her I was sorry, but her
husband wouldn't let me, could I?"
"Well, certainly not--"
"You want me to keep her happy, don't you? You don't want her to get
suspicious."
"No, but suppose somebody saw us together! If she ever got a hint--"
"I'm sorry," George Prime said contritely. "It seemed the right thing
to do. _You_ would have done it. At least that's what my judgment
center maintained. We had quite an argument."
"Well, tell your judgment center to use a little sense," I snapped. "I
don't want it to happen again."
The next night, I stayed home, even though it was Tuesday night. I was
beginning to get worried. Of course, I did have complete control--I
could snap George Prime off any time I wanted, or even take him in for
a complete recircuiting--but it seemed a pity. He was doing such a nice
job.
Marge was docile as a kitten, even more so than before. She sympathized
with my hard day at the office and agreed heartily that the boss,
despite all appearances, was in reality a jabbering idiot. After
dinner, I suggested a movie, but Marge gave me an odd sort of look and
said she thought it would be much nicer to spend the evening at home by
the fire.
I'd just gotten settled with the paper when she came into the living
room and sat down beside me. She was wearing some sort of filmy affair
I'd never laid eyes on before, and I caught a whiff of my favorite
perfume.
"Georgie?" she said.
"Uh?"
"Do you still love me?"
I set the paper down and stared at her. "How's that? Of course I
still--"
"Well, sometimes you don't act much like it."
"Mm. I guess I've--uh--got an awful headache tonight." Damn that
perfume!
"Oh," said Marge.
"In fact, I thought I'd turn in early and get some sleep--"
"Sleep," said Marge. There was no mistaking the disappointment in her
voice. Now I knew that things were out of hand.
The next evening, I activated George Prime and caught the taxi at the
corner, but I called Ruby and broke my date with her. I took in an
early movie alone and was back by ten o'clock. I left the cab at the
corner and walked quietly up the path toward the garage.
Then I stopped. I could see Marge and George Prime through the living
room windows.
George Prime was kissing my wife the way I hadn't kissed her in eight
long years. It made my hair stand on end. And Marge wasn't exactly
fighting him off, either. She was coming back for more. After a little,
the lights went off.
George Prime was a Super Deluxe model, all right.
* * * * *
I dashed into the workshop and punched the recall button as hard as I
could, swearing under my breath. How long had this been going on? I
punched the button again, viciously, and waited.
George Prime didn't come out.
It was plenty cold out in the workshop that night and I didn't sleep
a wink. About dawn, out came George Prime, looking like a man with a
four-day hangover.
Our conversation got down to fundamentals. George Prime kept insisting
blandly that, according to my own directions, he was to pick the first
logical opportunity to come out when I buzzed, and that was exactly
what he'd done.
I was furious all the way to work. I'd take care of this nonsense, all
right. I'd have George Prime rewired from top to bottom as soon as the
laboratory could take him.
But I never phoned the laboratory. The bank was calling me when I got
to the office. They wanted to know what I planned to do about that
check of mine that had just bounced.
"What check?" I asked.
"The one you wrote to cash yesterday--five hundred dollars--against
your regular account, Mr. Faircloth."
The last I'd looked, I'd had about three thousand dollars in that
account. I told the man so rather bluntly.
"Oh, no, sir. That is, you _did_ until last week. But all these checks
you've been cashing have emptied the account."
He flashed the checks on the desk screen. My signature was on every one
of them.
"What about my special account?" I'd learned long before that an
account Marge didn't know about was sound rear-guard strategy.
"That's been closed out for two weeks."
I hadn't written a check against that account for over a year! I glared
at the ceiling and tried to think things through.