m doubt his normality,
doubt sanity, doubt his very existence. For a moment the orderly
Universe is disarranged and the fabric of belief is ripped.

But the moment passes.

Anders remembered once, as a boy, awakening in his room in the middle of
the night. How strange everything had looked. Chairs, table, all out of
proportion, swollen in the dark. The ceiling pressing down, as in a
dream.

But that had also passed.

"Well, old man," he said, "if I get warm again, let me know."

"I will," the voice in his head whispered. "I'm sure you'll find me."

"I'm glad you're so sure," Anders said gaily, switched off the lights
and left.

* * * * *

Lovely and smiling, Judy greeted him at the door. Looking at her, Anders
sensed her knowledge of the moment. Had she felt the change in him, or
predicted it? Or was love making him grin like an idiot?

"Would you like a before-party drink?" she asked.

He nodded, and she led him across the room, to the improbable
green-and-yellow couch. Sitting down, Anders decided he would tell her
when she came back with the drink. No use in putting off the fatal
moment. A lemming in love, he told himself.

"You're getting warm again," the voice said.

He had almost forgotten his invisible friend. Or fiend, as the case
could well be. What would Judy say if she knew he was hearing voices?
Little things like that, he reminded himself, often break up the best of
romances.

"Here," she said, handing him a drink.

Still smiling, he noticed. The number two smile--to a prospective
suitor, provocative and understanding. It had been preceded, in
their relationship, by the number one nice-girl smile, the
don't-misunderstand-me smile, to be worn on all occasions, until
the correct words have been mumbled.

"That's right," the voice said. "It's in how you look at things."

Look at what? Anders glanced at Judy, annoyed at his thoughts. If he was
going to play the lover, let him play it. Even through the astigmatic
haze of love, he was able to appreciate her blue-gray eyes, her fine
skin (if one overlooked a tiny blemish on the left temple), her lips,
slightly reshaped by lipstick.

"How did your classes go today?" she asked.

Well, of course she'd ask that, Anders thought. Love is marking time.

"All right," he said. "Teaching psychology to young apes--"

"Oh, come now!"

"Warmer," the voice said.

What's the matter with me, Anders wondered. She really i