"Security," said the man. He sat with his hands folded.
"This is a joke, right? Damn! I should have suspected something. I knew the ES Quantum hadn't been put up for bid. Now, come on, who are you? Schwartz? Anderson? Infantino?"
"I am none of those people. And you are in a highly secret U.S. installation. Your job is to install the system as quickly as possible. Our country's future may depend upon it."
"Now I know this is a joke. If you're not going to unmask, I'll do it for you." And Chip Craft started for the man with the paper-bag head.
The dry-voiced man removed a .45 automatic from a drawer. He laid it on the desk with a heavy thud.
"I assure you that this is not a joke, and if you attempt to remove my disguise, I will have no choice but to shoot you. The security of this installation depends upon my identity remaining undisclosed."
Chip Craft halted. "You sound serious."
The man laid his hand across the weapon. "I assure you that I will not hesitate to shoot."
"Tell you what. I'm not saying I believe you and I'm not saying I don't. But I'll play along. Now, if this is for real, the ES Quantum's gotta be on the premises, correct?"
"Look behind you." Chip turned.
In one corner of the room stood the ES Quantum. It looked like a modernistic Christmas tree without ornaments. It was spindle-shaped, with a fat, molded base which tapered up to a tip that just grazed the ceiling. It was chocolate brown in color. The unit was featureless except for a glass-fronted square aperture set at eye level.
"If this is a gag, someone's gonna be swimming in shit when the head honcho finds out."
"My present terminal is connected to a system located several floors under our feet. I assume you can transfer the connection from up here."
"What terminal?"
The man with the paper-bag head pressed a stud under the edge of the desk and a terminal rose up like a crystal ball.
"Oh, that terminal. Let me take a look," Chip said, placing his tool case on the desk and opening it. He examined the terminal curiously.
"Boy, this takes me back. I haven't seen one of these in years. You should have upgraded long ago."
"Never mind that. Can you do it?"
"Let's see what you've got for connectors."
"The lines lead into the desk."
"Wanna move aside, Mr. . . . What do I call you, anyway-Smith?"
"No, Jones. Not Smith. Jones."
"What's the difference? We both know it's not your real name. "
"I prefer Jones, if you don't mind."
"Jones, then. Most anonymous people go with Smith, but suit yourself."
"Jones rose from behind the desk and Chip Craft poked his head into the desk well. He came back up a moment later.
"Ribbon cables? When was this thing installed-during Prohibition?"
"Is there a problem?"
"No, I'm just overcome by nostalgia. Ribbon cables. Jesus! Well, guess I'd better get started."
"I will remain here," said "Jones."
"Sure. Want to pass me a screwdriver as long as you're not doing anything?"
Chip felt a screwdriver slap into his hand and got to work.
Hours later, he breathed a sigh of accomplishment. "It's done. Got a place where I can wash up?"
"Out in the hall."
When Chip came back, "Jones" was stringing tinsel and colored balls on the ES Quantum unit.
"I knew it!" he howled gleefully. "It was a joke."
"I assure you this is not a joke, and do not come any closer."
Chip Craft saw the automatic was pointed at his chest. He lifted his hands. "Okay, okay. But do you mind telling me what the decorations are for? Christmas was last month."
"I get a certain amount of foot traffic through this office. No one must know that this is a computer system."
"I don't think they're gonna believe it's a Christmas tree. Especially when it's going up in January."
"Many people are slow to take down their trees."
"Yeah, but what are you going to tell them come July?"
"If we all live to see July, I will worry about that then."
"You're making me nervous with that talk, pal."
"Why don't you walk me through the system?"
"Roger." Chip got behind "Jones's" desk and powered up the terminal. In the corner, the ES Quantum gave out a steady hum. Nothing else happened. There were no lights to blink, no spooling tape reels, and no surface features except its single dark eye. It might have been a vegetable that had come to life.
"Jones" joined Chip Craft at the terminal.
"I've left the keyboard as it was, although it's optional now. "
"I understand the unit is voice-activated."