"Recall," he said aloud.
"Recall what, sir or madam?" the robot driver of the cab inquired respectfully.
"Do you have a phone book?" Quail demanded.
"Certainly, sir or madam." A slot opened; from it slid a microtape phone book for Cook County.
"It's spelled oddly," Quail said as he leafed through the pages of the yellow section. He felt fear, then; abiding fear. "Here it is," he said. "Take me there, to Rekal, Incorporated. I've changed my mind; I don't want to go home."
"Yes, sir or madam, as the case may be," the driver said. A moment later the cab was zipping back in the opposite direction.
"May I make use of your phone?" he asked.
"Be my guest," the robot driver said. And presented a shiny new emperor 3-D color phone to him. He dialed his own conapt. And after a pause found himself confronted by a miniature but chillingly realistic image of Kirsten on the small screen. "I've been to Mars," he said to her.
"You're drunk." Her lips writhed scornfully. "Or worse."