'The caterwauling quartet and entourage are safely down, and the Hedgehogs of the Apocalypse concert will be tomorrow evening. We have complimentary tickets for it--which command a high price.' Avon said to Blake on returning to the flight deck. Blake was sitting in the well at the front, with Orac on the table. Avon could guess what they had been discussed, and had part of his revenge planned.

'What did you get with the money for yours?' Blake said with a smile. 'I can almost agree with your comments on the group's output.'

'To borrow Orac's phrase--I increased the sum of human happiness and got music I preferred.' And the birthday present he really wanted.

'I was quoting Jeremy Bentham.' Orac was sure that Bentham would have included computers in his definition, if they had been around at the time. And considering the discussion it had just been having with Blake, it might be able to persuade its companions to do what it wanted.

'The Hegehogs make a fortune every time they perform,' Blake pointed out. 'Have you ever considered a career move?' Avon decided he might make a respectable sparring partner of Blake yet.

'They are probably paid to go away. And I only sing under duress.' In public at least.

'Yours or ours?' Blake asked, smiling in his most infuriating manner. Avon retrieved a computer memory unit from a pocket: the other memory unit would be saved until it was most useful.

'The Hedgehogs gave me this--remember those parodies you sang with them? Seemed to think you might make some converts that way, rather than your apparently rational arguments.'

'We could interfere with the viscasts…'

'Which would be a gross misuse of my capacities,' Orac complained, guessing what its involvement would be. 'To go from the stimulating discussions I was having to trivialities such as this…'

'With the Hedgehogs?' Avon asked. He was still trying to work out how people of their apparently limited intelligence could make so much money.

'No, the child Ilye.'

'Who was five last week,' Blake noted. 'The party Vila arranged was enjoyable.' Orac decided that the training of these humans was proceeding successfully. 'One of the few sorts of "work" he enjoys and is good at.' What was going wrong, Avon thought, agreeing with Blake twice in five minutes. 'What were you discussing with Ilye?' Avon asked. Orac had frequently protested when the conversations were interrupted.

'Where everything comes from, how we know whether what it says in books is true and equally fascinating topics which the adults on the Liberator totally ignore.' Not for want of trying.

'How old are you Orac? Use any definition that make sense to you.' It was a good thing, Orac reflected, that the humans did not recognise the flickering pattern of its lights that indicated laughter. It decided to use the most appropriate of the seven possible figures available, all of which could be justified and might be used.

'In the sense you mean, five years old next week.' Blake could not conceal his smile. A useful coincidence, which Avon predictably ignored. 'That is the Federation Standard calendar, not Aristo's of course.'

'Then we could have another party, as the last one was so successful,' Blake said. What they had arranged would be worth Avon's undoubtedly already planned revenge. Avon had enjoyed it for at least ten minutes--while trying to understand the computer game Ilye had solved immediately.

'What about the cake crumbs?' Orac complained.

'There weren't any,' Avon replied soothingly--or was this not quite what the computer meant?

Blake looked at his watch. 'If you are the same age as Ilye, shouldn't you be asleep by now, like him?'

'I am not a child!' Orac replied, going into "sulk" mode. Hopeful as ever it decided to make a list of interesting things it wished to be involved in. Would Blake appreciate the argument if repeated back to him on occasions when the group were interfering with Orac's researches?

'Sometimes you can be quite witty Blake.' Avon was prepared to be generous for once, despite Blake beating him to annoying Orac for once.

'I learnt it from a master,' Blake shot back. 'But consider how much it explains about Orac. I'll tell Vila to organise the party--or do you wish to?' It was Avon's birthday as well--he might reveal an unexpected side.

'I am not an ornamental candle holder!' Orac whined, 'Despite what some people thought at the time.'

'That was a misunderstanding, and nothing actually happened,' Blake soothed, before adding, 'What presents would you want?'

'Computer games,' Avon said without thinking.

'Like the ones Ilye had?' Blake teased.

'I have missed out on this interesting custom before,' Orac said hopefully--the two humans had not picked up on the hint of more than one party. 'I will provide you with a list of information I want' Might as well put the humans to useful work. 'And Blake--you gave Ilye a windmill. With spangles.'

the end