d metered for each individual. There is an absolute
precision in dream-making, ranging from the Nirvana-like calm of Black
Slipper through the multicolored hallucinations of peyotl and
tri-narcotine, to the sexual fantasies induced by nace and morphine,
and at last to the memory-resurrecting dreams of the carmoid group."

"It's the memory-resurrecting dreams I'm interested in," Barrent said.

Arkdragen frowned. "I wouldn't recommend it for a first visit."

"Why not?"

"Dreams of Earth are apt to be more unsettling than any imaginary
productions. It's usually advisable to build up a tolerance for them. I
would advise a nice little sexual fantasy for your first visit. We have
a special sale on sexual fantasies this week."

Barrent shook his head. "I think I'd prefer the real thing."

"You wouldn't," the assistant manager said, with a knowing smile.
"Believe me, once one becomes accustomed to vicarious sex experiences,
the real thing is pallid by comparison."

"Not interested," Barrent said. "What I want is a dream about Earth."

"But you haven't built up a tolerance!" Arkdragen said. "You aren't even
addicted."

"Is addiction necessary?"

"It's important," Arkdragen told him, "as well as being inescapable. All
our drugs are habit-forming, as the law requires. You see, to really
appreciate a drug, you must build up a need for it. It heightens
pleasure enormously, to say nothing of the increase in toleration.
That's why I suggest that you begin with--"

"I want a dream about Earth," Barrent said.

"Very well," Arkdragen said grudgingly. "But we will not be responsible
for any traumas which accrue."

He led Barrent into a long passageway. It was lined with doors, and
behind some of them Barrent could hear dull moans and gasps of pleasure.

"Experiencers," Arkdragen said, without further explanation. He took
Barrent to an open room near the end of the corridor. Within sat a
cheerful-looking bearded man in a white coat reading a book.

"Good evening, Doctor Wayn," Arkdragen said. "This is Citizen Barrent.
First visit. He insists upon an Earth dream." Arkdragen turned and left.

"Well," the doctor said, "I guess we can manage that." He put down his
book. "Just lie down over there, Citizen Barrent."

In the center of the room was a long, adjustable table. Above it hung a
complicated-looking instrument. At the end of the room were glass-sided
cabinets filled with square jars; they reminded Barrent of his
antid