ar sun, the strange man.
But he spoke to me in a friendly way, as if it were an ordinary thing to
find a perfect stranger sprawled out taking a siesta in here.

"Could I trouble you to tell me your name?"

That was reasonable enough. If I found somebody making himself at home
in my office--if I had an office--I'd ask him his name, too. I started
to swing my legs to the floor, and had to stop and steady myself with
one hand while the room drifted in giddy circles around me.

[Illustration: The man in the mirror was a stranger.]

"I wouldn't try to sit up just yet," he remarked, while the floor calmed
down again. Then he repeated, politely but insistently, "Your name?"

"Oh, yes. My name." It was--I fumbled through layers of what felt like
gray fuzz, trying to lay my tongue on the most familiar of all sounds,
my own name. It was--why, it was--I said, on a high rising note, "This
is damn silly," and swallowed. And swallowed again. Hard.

"Calm down," the chubby man said soothingly. That was easier said than
done. I stared at him in growing panic and demanded, "But, but, have I
had amnesia or something?"

"Or something."

"What's my _name_?"

"Now, now, take it easy! I'm sure you'll remember it soon enough. You
can answer other questions, I'm sure. How old are you?"

I answered eagerly and quickly, "Twenty-two."

* * * * *

The chubby man scribbled something on a card. "Interesting.
In-ter-est-ing. Do you know where we are?"

I looked around the office. "In the Terran Headquarters. From your
uniform, I'd say we were on Floor 8--Medical."

He nodded and scribbled again, pursing his lips. "Can you--uh--tell me
what planet we are on?"

I had to laugh. "Darkover," I chuckled, "I hope! And if you want the
names of the moons, or the date of the founding of the Trade City, or
something--"

He gave in, laughing with me. "Remember where you were born?"

"On Samarra. I came here when I was three years old--my father was in
Mapping and Exploring--" I stopped short, in shock. "He's dead!"

"Can you tell me your father's name?"

"Same as mine. Jay--Jason--" the flash of memory closed down in the
middle of a word. It had been a good try, but it hadn't quite worked.
The doctor said soothingly, "We're doing very well."

"You haven't told me anything," I accused. "Who are you? Why are you
asking me all these questions?"

He pointed to a sign on his desk. I scowled and spelled out the