s. Go on."

* * * * *

After Kramer finished the old man lay back in the bed without
speaking. At last he sighed.

"I understand. A human mind, taken out of a human body." He sat up a
little, looking at Kramer. "I suppose you're thinking of me."

Kramer said nothing.

"Before I make my decision I want to see the papers on this, the
theory and outline of construction. I'm not sure I like it.--For
reasons of my own, I mean. But I want to look at the material. If
you'll do that--"

"Certainly." Kramer stood up and went to the door. Gross and the two
Security Agents were standing outside, waiting tensely. "Gross, come
inside."

They filed into the room.

"Give the Professor the papers," Kramer said. "He wants to study them
before deciding."

Gross brought the file out of his coat pocket, a manila envelope. He
handed it to the old man on the bed. "Here it is, Professor. You're
welcome to examine it. Will you give us your answer as soon as
possible? We're very anxious to begin, of course."

"I'll give you my answer when I've decided." He took the envelope with
a thin, trembling hand. "My decision depends on what I find out from
these papers. If I don't like what I find, then I will not become
involved with this work in any shape or form." He opened the envelope
with shaking hands. "I'm looking for one thing."

"What is it?" Gross said.

"That's my affair. Leave me a number by which I can reach you when
I've decided."

Silently, Gross put his card down on the dresser. As they went out
Professor Thomas was already reading the first of the papers, the
outline of the theory.

* * * * *

Kramer sat across from Dale Winter, his second in line. "What then?"
Winter said.

"He's going to contact us." Kramer scratched with a drawing pen on
some paper. "I don't know what to think."

"What do you mean?" Winter's good-natured face was puzzled.

"Look." Kramer stood up, pacing back and forth, his hands in his
uniform pockets. "He was my teacher in college. I respected him as a
man, as well as a teacher. He was more than a voice, a talking book.
He was a person, a calm, kindly person I could look up to. I always
wanted to be like him, someday. Now look at me."

"So?"

"Look at what I'm asking. I'm asking for his life, as if he were some
kind of laboratory animal kept around in a cage, not a man, a teacher
at all."

"Do you think he'll do it?"

"I