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be no problem. We will give you the design of the Collector, and you build it.”
    “No, that is not what I mean. We can provide liquid oxygen in lightweight containers. I wondered how you would, um, embark it.”
    “We require solid oxygen, condensed to a degree beyond your current abilities.”
    “Solid!” Fascinating … “I see. “He looked forward eagerly to this unique scientific experiment which would be bound to advance human knowledge. He thought briefly of the men who would have to be there, the world’s best physicists: Tok Chong, for one - and Cohen - and old Visick, who might be in his second childhood, but still had a sharp eye… . Forbin pulled himself up sharply. All that could wait. “I see. As a matter of interest, what would be the density you require?”
    “Five tons to the cubic centimeter.”
    Forbin’s mind lurched sickeningly. He sat down quickly, gaping at them. “You can’t mean it - five tons! That is astronomical! Surely a lesser mass would be …” His voice trailed off into silence as his scientific mind surrendered to his horrified intuition. In a hoarse whisper he said, “How much do you want?”
    “We will take -” The Devonian burr had gone. - half the earth’s supply.”
    All Forbin’s latent fears sprang up, took arms, and rushed in upon him, screaming triumphantly.

Chapter V
    UNTIL THE REVOLT Forbin had been, without doubt, the most powerful man in the world, a power that rested on his unique relationship with the Master, for he alone had talked with Colossus. The Sect, when building him up in the eyes of the Faithful for their own ends, had been quick to parallel him with Moses and Mohammed, although they were careful not to let Forbin hear of it.
    What he discussed with Colossus had been seldom known, and then by very few. Not that Forbin had kept these exchanges secret in order to raise his status; he’d not had that cast of mind. Outside cybernetics and allied disciplines he was a simple, rather naive man. He had not seen that an air of mystery enhanced his position, but Galin and the rest of the Sect Council had. Forbin could not live forever, and Galin had had every intention of being his successor, so he had worked, and his Sect had worked, to elevate and consolidate Forbin’s position.
    In the very private recesses of his mind, Galin had allowed himself to savor in advance what it would be like to hold that position, interface between humanity and Colossus: a latter-day Pope with power unequaled in history, ruling the affairs of men in the name of Colossus the God. There would be religious fervor unseen since the Crusades - except that the Crusaders would look like a back-street bunch of revivalists. As long as one wanted what Colossus wanted, obeyed Colossus, one couldn’t go wrong. Colossus cared nothing for human power, but Galin had worshiped that most corrosive human vice above life itself. Which was just as well.
    All Angela’s working life had been spent with Forbin, from pushy office junior to mature senior secretary, running his personal staff with a brisk efficiency, seldom needing her undoubted iron hand-except with pushy junior females.
    At this time she needed all her maturity, and increasingly the iron hand became a mailed fist, but her staff took it without complaint. As their close-knit world fell apart, they needed a prop, and she was it. Senior woman of the Old Guard, tough survivor of so many crises in the near-legendary past, she had their respect and trust, and in the last thirty-six hours her staff had been only too glad to turn their horrified gaze from events outside their office and fasten it upon her. Like small children in a darkening wood, they mentally clung to her, frantic for the comfort of her adult hand.
    Thirty-six hours … That, according to the clock, was all the time that had elapsed. Few could believe it.
    Tension had been building up for days. The Director - or as the more religiously inclined preferred, Father Forbin -