He looked at her, wondering if she were getting sick or slipping a cog.

The Book of Answers must have slipped a cog, or whatever it did.

Unless somebody slips a cog and we sell a proto.

I think she slipped a cog after that.

It begins to look as if your late, unlamented buddy was slipping a cog or two!

My mind must have slipped a cog.

You slipped a cog somewhere.

When you sat silent and refused to intervene in Quebec's bid for independence, I thought you'd slipped a cog.

I slipped a cog, I guess.

Something slipped a cog in Rex Pebble's mind.

No; that's where he slipped a cog," remarked Mr. Nestor. "

Dr. Entman shook his head sadly, certain that Taber had slipped a cog.

His mind slipped a cog, so that he relapsed into a waking slumber, his muscles responding automatically to the need.

Cdryxxxxx, Dr. Smile blared, slipping a cog down below in the conapt buildings basement.

It all began when the new bookkeeping machine of a large Midwestern coffin manufacturer slipped a cog, or blew a transistor, or something.

But even electronic brains had been known to slip a cog, and it required the human pilot to watch for the alarm-lights that would show such a lapse.

This is what it must be like to fly in outer space, he thought, and he felt his rationality slip a cog, as it had on the trip east.

There'd been this slight disturbance of the balance of nature, and the natural law that two and two make four had slipped a cog at that particular place.

We caught the home edition with it, a four-column head on the left side of page one, and the Barnacle slipped a cog or two and gave me a byline on it.

The only fact was that the human race had one day slipped a cog; that it had fallen down from the slight last push, though it had withstood much more severe buffeting.

Then she remembered what Magnus had said about Rod's earlier spell of mental illness, about his children's agreement that he had slipped a cog during the funeral, and thought there might be no disrespect in their concern.

But part of the time Galen would slip a cog, and see Mark as the personal genetic representative of our father, and make him whipping-boy for all his hatred of the Vorkosigans and Barrayar.

And I thought that old man Davis - there really was a fella named Davis who ran the place back then, it was his father that opened her up right around 1910 - had slipped a cog or two.