Dear Late Doctor...._

I had never been able to find out much about the Doctor. He was too
sacred a subject for any of the members to even talk about. Of course, I
hadn't tried very hard, because I wasn't especially interested in this
assignment--I was supposed to be on vacation.

Now that a successor had been chosen, I wondered if the show was over
and everyone could go home. I asked Blekeke about it.

"Not while yet," he replied. "Colonial could be. All live one. Dear Late
Doctor--" hand to heart, face to Heaven, Amen--"often told wanted
colossal."

It wasn't too clear, but I nodded anyway. Frankly, my interest in the
whole thing was at a very low ebb. With the drinks and the effort of
untangling Blekeke's twisted English, I was becoming listless and
sleepy.

But he insisted on knowing where I had been when the meeting was held. I
told him I'd had to hurry back to New York for a conference with my
publisher.

He said, "Ah, yes. Writer." He pointed to the defense mech on the seat
beside me. "That typer?"

"Huh? Oh, no ... that's a portable radio. Carry it around with me, in
case the conversation gets dull." I was at the point where I didn't care
much what I said.

He must have taken it as a gentle hint, because in a little while he got
up and left, shrilling: "So gladly seeing you. Wanted know."

I nodded and waved a limp hand at him.

* * * * *

As I was passing the desk on the way up to my room, the clerk called,
"Mr. Langston, Mr. Langston. Long distance call for you, sir. I was just
ringing your room. You can take it in a booth there, if you wish, sir."

I nodded and walked to the row of vp booths. Closing the door, I sat
down in front of the screen and picked up the mike. The visiphone screen
lighted and the speaker crackled. The chubby face and shoulders of
Carson Newell took form and floated on the plate.

"Wanted to be sure you got the latest dope on Grogan before you see
him," Newell said. "Just now got the report."

"Go ahead," I said.

"Well, then--" The boss looked up from his note pad. "About how long had
the telenosis been on you? How many days?"

"H'm. Don't know. It's hard to tell, if it's handled right. Weird
nightmares, daydreams, absent-mindedness, sudden impulses, optical
illusions--it can be telenosis, and it can be just you. I'd say three or
four days, but--"

"Wouldn't necessarily prove anything, anyway," Newell broke in. "Here's
the report o