he itch was still there. He looked curiously at his
skin; it appeared normal. It was definitely not transparent, hadn't been
even in the hospital when the bandages were removed. He'd had a glimpse
of it in the original transparent stage only once, when the doctor had
exposed the tips of his fingers.

Briefly he wondered about it. Did it really itch that bad, or was it an
unconscious excuse to see the doctor? She was a sullen, indifferent
creature, but without doubt worth seeing again. He didn't know her name,
but he could find out easily enough.

As if in answer to the silent question, his whole body twitched
violently. He raked his fingers across his forearm and the nails broke
off. She was at least partly right in her predictions; his skin was
considerably tougher than it had been, though nothing appeared
different.

He didn't like communicating with the police, but he had little choice.
He flipped on the screen and made a few inquiries.

The name he wanted was Doctor Doumya Filone. She was off duty at
present. However, if it was an emergency--? His skin crawled and he
decided it was just that and identified himself. There were a number of
persons with whom he had contacts who wouldn't approve his doing this,
but they didn't have to live in his skin.

He dialed her quickly. He couldn't place the number, but figured it was
probably across town, in one of the newer districts. He didn't fully
remember what she was like until she appeared on the screen. With that
face to put on a robot, he might make a fortune. That is, if he could
capture the expression as well as the features.

"How's the patient?" she asked. Behind her briskness he thought he could
detect a flicker of concern.

"You can take back that skin you gave me," he said. "It itches."

She frowned. "I told you it was very new. We aren't able to anticipate
all the reactions." She paused. "However, it shouldn't itch. By now it
ought to be well integrated with your body and new cell growth should be
occurring with the synthetic substance as the matrix."

"Thanks," he said dryly. "That doesn't explain how I feel."

Unperturbed, she looked down at a desk he could imagine, but could not
see. She got up and walked out of the field of vision. She was gone for
quite some time.

A disturbing thought formed in his mind. Was she calling elsewhere for
instructions? There was no reason why she should, yet the thought
persisted.

She came back. "Get a detergent.