He stared at her, then suddenly grinned back. "Okay, you're ribbing me.
But dammit, you let a guy like Brannan soft-soap you and squire you
all around the town, and eat it up, and when I pay you a legitimate
compliment, you act like ... like a _woman_!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jensen, sir," she said. "I didn't mean to forget we are
working in a scientific laboratory and that you are my boss. We are
both men, working on a man's job--"
He groaned. "Okay, you win. But will you quit rubbing in that silly
statement I made when I hired you? Sure, I said it was a man's job,
and I wanted it handled like a man. But you needn't grow a beard over
it!"
"Might be a good idea. Then when you fire me for being dog-tired, I
could get a job in a circus."
"Yes, and if you bungle this morning's experiment, _I_ may be able to
get a job in a nuthouse!"
She was instantly contrite. "Oh Don, I won't! But why don't you do the
hard work, and let me be the subject? Then if anything goes wrong, all
your work won't be lost...."
"Nuts. You know as much about it as I do. And besides, what if I
accidentally picked up your emotional seat and found out what time
Brannan _really_ brought you in last night?"
"Maybe you'd be surprised."
"I'd like to have Brannan under the machine," he said. "Maybe _you'd_
be surprised."
"Mary Mason can take care of herself," she said.
He looked at her. "Yeah, I guess you _can_. So, how about dinner
tonight?"
"Psychology class tonight."
"Tomorrow night."
"Choir practice."
"Thursday."
"Brannan."
"Friday."
"Washing and ironing."
"Saturday and Sunday."
"My days off."
"Then do you mind if we get to work?"
"That's what you hired me for."
He bent over his machine and uttered something in a muffled voice.
"What did you say?" she asked innocently.
"I wouldn't repeat it for a lady's ears," he snapped.
* * * * *
"The pineal gland--the mystery gland of the human brain. Mystics call
it the 'third eye.' Some say it is an atrophied eye, in the center of
the forehead, others say it is a new sense man is developing, for use
in the future."
"Shut up and let me put this electrode in place," said Mary. She
swabbed at his forehead with a piece of cotton dipped in alcohol. Then
she placed a small pad of felt dipped in water over the spot, and
placed the silver electrode over it, clamped it in place on his head.
He grinned up at her. "Maybe when you turn on the power, and amplify
the waves, I'll be able to read your mind."
"You'd better not. Unless you want me to quit and go home to San
Francisco."
"What's the matter? Afraid to let anyone know what you're thinking?"
"No," she said firmly. "I just think my thoughts are private, that's
all."
"Then what are you working on this thing with me for?"
"We're measuring brain waves, charting patterns, recording reactions.
All this stuff about mind-reading is purely imagination. If that's what
you're working toward, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed."