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Show for a ThreeMonth to Rasher Commendium, fishing, though naught could be found of him by the NewOxbridge SnoopSystem. Brandon made a mental note to key in a memo on the subject directly he returned to his sanctum. "Nevertheless," Brandon continued. "Begun I in earnest to read hardcopy from Grant-Sheblem's DiscriminationNet, and therefore felt it prudent to conceal a complement of androids in the sanctum next his, commanded by His Grace, Aloysius Q. Rockforth..." Phrapp groaned again, and his face blenched. "Aye, aye," said Brandon testily, mistaking Phrapp's concern. "Well I know that Rockforth's anachronistic. Nay. he's a certified Crossover. Indeed, he's the closest thing we have to an androidal human and that's why I put him on the job. They could for a certainty be standing there for months, fair sir, whom else could I call on, pray?" He looked at Phrapp reproachfully. "Nevertheless," he continued, "they're to assail the place as soon as they, pick up the word Revolution. . . " He shuddered. "...again." He looked around the table. "Indeed, I hand-carried the order myself, and placed all the androids and Rockforth into position immediately." This action was so unprecedented, the movement of folk and commands through channels so extraordinarily swift, that the three others at the table allowed their mouths to drop open. Brandon looked smug for a moment; then his face fell, and the frown plunged deeper into his forehead. "Nay, but I'm at a loss as to what Grant- Sheblem hath in mind!" "The Good Doctor wishes to destroy the Network," rumbled Phrapp, smacking his lips. "Marry: but why?" Brandon ran his hand over his closely cropped hair, 50 |
