employed in distributing the various types of telepathic impulses to subjects beyond the scope of the directing mentality in range or number—Refer to ‘Pyramid Effect’—”
That seemed to be that. What else was the Z.A. crying about? Oh, yes!
“Siva Psychosis,” the gentle voice resumed obligingly. “Symptom of the intermediate to concluding stages of the Autocrat Circuit in human-type mentalities—Refer to ‘Multiple Murder: Causes’—”
Linky grimaced.
“Got what you wanted?” The other clerk was standing behind him.
Linky got up. “No,” he said. “Let’s go anyhow. Your Final Mission came through?”
His friend shook his head.
“The guy got it. Ship and all. The automatic death signals just started coming in. That bong-bong . . . bong-bong stuff always gets on my nerves!” He motioned Linky into an elevator ahead of him. “They ought to work out a different sort of signal.”
“Understand you’ve been having some trouble with Department of Cultures personnel,” Snoops told the transmitter genially.
“Just one of them,” Pagadan replied, regarding him with disfavor. Probably, he wasn’t really evil but he certainly looked it—aged in evil, and wizened with it. Also, he had been, just now, very hard to find. “That particular one,” she added, “is worse than any dozen others I’ve run into, so far!”
“DC-COIF 1227, eh?” Snoops nodded. “Don’t have to make up a dossier for you on her. Got it all ready.”
“We’ve had trouble with her before, then?”
“Oh, sure! Lots of times. System Chief Jasse—beautiful big thing, isn’t she?” Snoops chuckled. “I’ve got any number of three-dimensionals of her.”
“You would have,” said Pagadan sourly. “For a flagpole, she’s o