re, making your
contribution like they say."

He kissed her lips. They were soft and warm and clinging, and so were
her arms around his neck. This was more like the Zelda he had been
missing.

"They gave you a hypo, sweetheart," he told her. "You're hooked; I'm
not. Maybe being a footnote is more important than doing something to
save our skin, but I don't think so. If I can do anything about it, I
want to do it."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm hoping I get an idea when I'm
paroled."

She nuzzled under his chin. "Hon, I want you and me to be footnotes. I
want it awful bad."

"That's not what really counts, baby. Don't you see that? It's having
you and stopping us humans from being just a bunch of old footnotes.
Once we do that, we can always come back here and make the record, if it
means that much to you."

"Oh, it does!"

He stood and drew her up so he could hold her more tightly. "You do want
to go on being my wife, don't you, baby?"

"Of course! Only I was hoping it could be here."

"Well, it can't. But that's all I wanted to know. The rest is just
details."

He kissed her again, including the side of her neck, which produced a
subdued wriggle of pleasure, and then he went back to the Administration
Building for his release.

* * * * *

Awakening was no more complicated than opening his eyes, except for a
bit of fogginess and fatigue that wore off quickly, and Clocker saw he
was in a white room with a doctor, a nurse and an orderly around his
bed.

"Reflexes normal," the doctor said. He told Clocker, "You see and hear
us. You know what I'm saying."

"Sure," Clocker replied. "Why shouldn't I?"

"That's right," the doctor evaded. "How do you feel?"

Clocker thought about it. He was a little thirsty and the idea of a
steak interested him, but otherwise he felt no pain or confusion. He
remembered that he had not been hungry or thirsty for a long time, and
that made him recall going over the border after Zelda.

There were no gaps in his recollection.

He didn't have protective amnesia.

"You know what it's like there?" he asked the doctor eagerly. "A big
place where everybody from all over the world tell these aliens about
their job or racket." He frowned. "I just remembered something funny.
Wonder why I didn't notice it at the time. Everybody talks the same
language. Maybe that's because there's only one language for thinking."
He shrugged o