The pleasant, silent, effortless motion of the Aircab soon produced its usual somnolent effect on him, and he dozed comfortably off. He slept the entire trip.
At Knoxville, he spoke to the Center Technician briefly, advising the master robot of the possibility of his altered economic status, and the matter was thoroughly checked by the computer at Central Authority. Every conceivable source of psychosomatic tension and internal conflict was studied, and suitable alterations on Hal's master curve plotted. The process took ten minutes, while Hal dozed under the soothing warmth of the examination cap. There was a crackling buzz, and it was over.
He awoke immediately, and felt wonderful. No tension. No irritation. Not the slightest bit of his recent restlessness. Hal was delighted. On the way out of the cubicle, he encountered another Proprietor, and smiled at him with perfect, civilized mildness.
"York," he ordered his Aircab. Once again, the sleek button-shaped vehicle soared up through the Airdome and out over the interurban wilderness. Hal contentedly went to sleep right in the middle of the pilot's automatic rundown of flight data.
He was jolted awake by a raucous rattle from the control bank. Blinking his eyes sleepily, he said, "Please stop all that noise. What is the trouble?"
A very unpleasant and notably ungentle voice replied, "Apologies sir. We are out of control. Aircrash has occurred."