“Hm,” said Mark.

“Well, now,” Penelope said briskly. “I’ll make you a regular business deal. I’ll teach you, and for all you get, you give me twenty percent. See how many you can get. Try for ten thousand. That’ll give you something to shoot at.”

“Maybe I can beat the Machine,” Mark said eagerly.

Penelope swallowed. “They say you can’t beat the Machine. But I guess it won’t hurt to try.”

Mark did well. At first he just walked down the street stopping people as fast as he could get to them. “You didn’t recognize me, sir,” he would say indignantly. “I met you at Central concourse two years ago. Remember? You stood right in front of me in line for three hours, and we talked about our new suits. Remember? My feelings are injured because you ignored me just now. Fifty points. Will you sign my slip, please?”

His credit reached the black the first week. He was netting five hundred points a day, and it was fun, but Penelope said, “We’ll go for bigger stakes. This is kindergarten stuff. Now here’s the way you start.⁠ ⁠…”

So the next morning Mark managed to get himself knocked down four times, and each time he came up with a skinned knee and collected from five hundred to eight hundred and fifty points. He was learning, Penelope assured him when he gleefully showed her his card at the end of the day. Mark was elated. That day he had gathered fifty-one hundred points.

“But this can get monotonous, too,” Penelope said. “Anyway, you can’t go around forever with a sandpapered knee. You’re learning fast, and you’re learning right. Old Point-a-Minute Charlie was the best there was, in his day, and he always said you make more points guessing character