“Don’t worry,” he said.
“But they say the police are searching outward on a ten mile radius.”
He pulled her down on his lap and kissed her. “And what can they find? I’m a poet who contributes well to the party in power; the party in power is very anti-Esper. We live normal lives. We have never once voiced disapproval over punishment of captured hallucino-children.”
“Just the same,” she said, “I’ll worry.”
So would he.
Until noon. That is when the police came.
They stood watching through the porthole in the front door as the police approached the house. “It’s just a question party. Only routine investigators following routine procedures,” he said.
She was trembling just the same. She retreated to the kitchen.
He waited for two knocks before he opened the door. He did not want to appear too anxious, and he needed those extra few seconds to paint a false smile on his face. “Yes?”
“Police Inspector Jameson and android assistant T,” the dark-eyed detective said, motioning to the parody of a man beside him.
“Oh, this must be about the hallucino-child in the papers. Come in, inspector.”
He led them into the den. The inspector and he sat, but T remained standing. The snowflakes that had fallen on his metal hide were melting and dropping onto the carpet after cutting wet swaths across the “skin” of his face to the precipice of his chin.
“Nice place you have here, Mr. Cauvell”
“Thank you.”
“This where you write poems?”
Cauvell looked to the desk, nodded.
“I’m a fan of yours. Though I must say I don’t often like those unrhymed ones.”
He breathed more easily. The man was certainly not a forceful, probing, hard policeman. He seemed rather meek, in fact. Why, Cauvell thought, he can’t even meet my eyes directly. . . .
“Is your wife—Mrs. Cauvell—at home?”
His heart jumped a little, but he did not hesitate. “Yes, she is. Laurie!” he shouted, perhaps a bit too loud. “Laurie!”
She came in from the kitchen and stood next to his chair, eyeing the android suspiciously. Too suspiciously, Cauvell was afraid. Would T notice and become suspicious of her suspicion?
“Please sit down, Mrs. Cauvell,” Jameson said. He addressed both of them then. “We are running a survey of the neighborhood and would like to ask you both a few questions.”
They both nodded.
“T,” Jameson said.
The android’s throat seemed to hum for a moment; then a deep, hoarse voice groaned from a plate in the lower portion of his neck. this interview is being recorded. are you aware of this, mr. and mrs. frank cauvell?
“Yes,” they answered ceremoniously.
all information recorded may be used in a court of law. are you aware of this, mr. and mrs. cauvell?
“Yes.”
this is android t of city division cooperating with inspector harold jameson. mr. cauvell, a hallucino-child is a person born of parents whose genes were altered by their use of lsd-25. these children become either physical freaks or mental freaks. do you understand the use of the term hallucino-child?
“Yes.”
and you, mrs. cauvell?
“I do.”
the physical freaks are cared for by the government. the hallucino-chtldren who are born with the congenital defect of esp sensitivity are a danger to the state and cannot be afforded full citizenship. because of the nature of their power—which can only be studied at the critical point and which is too dangerous at the critical point to study—many of these mutants must be put to sleep, humanely. do you understand this, mr. and mrs. cauvell?
They said that they did. The formalities were over.
we have reason to believe there is a hallucino-child in this vicinity. have either of you knowledge of said person?
They said no.
did either of you leave the house last night?
“No.”
The question suddenly became very pointed. then
how did the driveway and entrance to the superhighway become cleared?
“We noticed as we came in,” Jameson said, “that your driveway seems to have been cleared by melting bars.”
“I went out this morning for a few groceries,” Cauvell answered a bit too quickly.
“You do your own shopping?” Jameson asked, raising his eyebrows.