ose," he said. "There's nothing I can
do to learn who I was."

The counselor shook his head. "Nothing that _we_ can do. The clues are
in the structure of your mind, and you have better access to it than
we do. Read, think, look. Maybe you'll run across your name. We can
take it from there." He paused. "That is, if you're determined to go
ahead."

That was a strange thing for a police counselor to say.

"Of course I want to know who I am," he said in surprise. "Why
shouldn't I?"

"I'd rather not mention this, but you ought to know." Borgenese
shifted uncomfortably. "One third of the lost identity cases that we
solve are self-inflicted. In other words, suicides."

* * * * *

His head rumbled with names long after he had decided on one and put
the list away. Attractive names and odd ones--but which were
significant he couldn't say. There was more to living than the
knowledge that could be put on tapes and played back. There was more
than choosing a name. There was experience, and he lacked it. The
world of personal reactions for him had started two weeks previously;
it was not enough to help him know what he wanted to do.

He sat down. The room was small but comfortable. As long as he stayed
in retro-therapy, he couldn't expect much freedom.

He tried to weigh the factors. He could take a job and adapt himself
to some mode of living.

What kind of a job?

He had the ordinary skills of the society--but no outstanding
technical ability had been discovered in him. He had the ability of an
entrepreneur--but without capital, that outlet was denied him.

His mind and body were empty and waiting. In the next few months, no
matter what he did, some of the urge to replace the missing sensations
would be satisfied.

The more he thought about that, the more powerfully he felt that he
had to know who he was. Otherwise, proceeding to form impressions and
opinions might result in a sort of betrayal of himself.

Assume the worst, that he was a suicide. Maybe he had knowingly and
willingly stepped out of his former life. A suicide would cover
himself--would make certain that he could never trace himself back to
his dangerous motive for the step. If he lived on Earth, he would go
to Mars or Venus to strip himself of his unsatisfactory life. There
were dozens of precautions anyone would take.

But if it weren't suicide, then who had retroed him and why? That was
a question he couldn't answer