The Perfect Host by Theodore Sturgeon

came here to see your Spy-Eye in action. What is it, anyhow? And how did it get the cute soapsuds name?”
    Dr. Simmons smiled. “One of the armchair boys in the front office used to work in an advertising agency. The device is a ‘Self-Propelled Information Interceptor’—SPII—which, once it touched that huckster brain, became ‘Spy-Eye.’ As to just what it is, you’ll see that for yourself if you attend the demonstration, which starts as soon as we’ve finished talking.”
    “You mean you postponed it until I was through with you?”
    “That’s right.”
I thought you’d like that
, he thought, watchingthe pleased grin on his brother’s face. “Tell me something, Leroy. All these plans … are we at war?”
    “Are we … well, no. You know that.”
    “But these preparations. All they lack is a timetable.” He squinted quizzically. “By golly, I believe you have that, too.”
    “We have plenty,” the colonel sidestepped, winking.
    “Choose sides yet? What’s the line-up?”
    “I won’t tell you that. No, I’m not worried about security, it’s just that I might be wrong. Things move so fast these days. I’ll tell you one thing, though. We already have our neutral ground.”
    “Oh yes, of course—like Switzerland and Sweden. I’ve always wondered what exact powers kept them neutral.”
    “Well, if you’re going to fight a war, you’ve got to have some way to exchange prisoners and have meetings with various interested parties, and so on—”
    “Yep. And it used to come in pretty handy for certain manufacturers.”
    The colonel eyed him. “Are you sure you’re off that lion-and-lamb kick?”
    Dr. Simmons grimaced. “I think the Spy-Eye can answer that adequately.”
    The colonel slipped off his perch. “Yes, let’s get to it,” he said eagerly.
    They went to the door. “By the way,” said Dr. Simmons, “just what have you picked out for your neutral ground?”
    “Japan,” said the colonel.
    “Nice of ’em to agree to anything so close to home.”
    “Nice of ’em? Don’t be silly! It’s the only way they can be sure it won’t be fortified.”
    “Oh,” said his brother. They went out.
    The demonstration went off without a hitch, and afterward the six Army observers and the plant technicians repaired to the projection room for Dr. Simmons’ summation.
    He talked steadily and tiredly, and his thoughts talked on at the same time. As he reeled off specifications and characteristics, his mindrambled along, sometimes following the spoken thought, sometimes paralleling it, sometimes commenting acidly or humorously, always tiredly. It was a trapped thing, that talking mind, but it was articulate.
    “… five-point-eight feet long over-all, an aerodynamic streamline, with its largest diameter only two-point-three-seven feet. Slide One, please. As you have seen, it has one propelling and three supporting jets. These three are coupled directly to the same outlet valve, which is controlled by an absolute altimeter. The whole is, of course, gyro-stabilized. It is capable of trans-sonic speeds, but can very nearly hover, subject only to a small nutation which can probably be designed out.”
    It was going to be a mail rocket
, commented his thought.
    “Its equipment includes the usual self-guiding devices, a coding flight-recorder, and radio receivers tuned to various pre-selected FM, AM, and radar channels. In regard to radar, should it pick up any radar impulses close enough or strong enough to suggest detection, it changes course and speed radically. Should they persist, the Spy-Eye releases ‘window’—aluminum-foil strips of various lengths—and returns to its starting point by preset and devious course.
    “The spy device itself is relatively simple. It uses magnefilm, taking pictures of the source of any desired radio signal. When the signal is received, it locates the beam, aims the camera, and records the audio signal magnetically. Of course, the synchronization