"Oh, I suppose I do," Dr. Calvin rubbed her hands nervously. "It isn’t easy. I’ve been pampering it and probing it gently, and I haven’t gotten anywhere yet. Its reactions aren’t normal. Its answers—they’re queer, somehow. But nothing I can put my finger on yet. And you see, until we know what’s wrong, we must just tiptoe our way through. I can never tell what simple question or remark will just . . . push him over . . . and then— Well, and then we’ll have on our hands a completely useless Brain. Do you want to face that?"