There were heavy lines around his eyes and
he hadn't trimmed his thin beard. Whatever he was working on, Rynason
thought, he was putting a lot of effort into it.
"This doesn't make sense, Lee. Damn it, since when do machines make
guesses? Wrong ones, at that?"
Rynason shrugged. "Well, you've got to remember that this was an alien
machine; maybe that's the way they built them."
Manning threw a cold glance at him and poured a glass of Sector Three
brandy for himself. "You're not being amusing," he said shortly. "Now,
go on, and make some sense."
"I'd like to," Rynason said. "Frankly, my theory is that the machine was
a communication-link with the Outsiders. It could explain a lot of
things--maybe even the similarities in architecture."
Manning scowled and turned away from him. He paced heavily across the
room and looked out through the plasticene window at the nearly empty,
dust-strewn street for a few moments; when he returned the frown was
still on his face.
"Damn it, Lee, you're not keeping your mind on the problems here.
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