ears, ringing hollowly as though it and he were in a large cave. Slowly he chanced opening his eyes. The doctor had his back to him. From one of the instruments a strip of paper unwound and was covered with a thin, wavy purple line. The doctor tore off pieces and put them into a slot in another machine. He did it over and over again. Each time a little piece of film came out which the doctor looked at. Finally, he turned toward George with a queer frown between his eyes. The buzzing stopped. George said breathlessly, “Is it over?” The doctor said, “Yes,” but he was still frowning. “Can I read now?’ asked George. He felt no different. The doctor said, “What?” then smiled very suddenlya rubbery inner lining was placed over his head and left there. Three or four little knobs seemed to grab at him and bite into his skull, but there was only a little pressure that faded. No pain. The doctor’s voice sounded dimly. “Everything all right, George?” And then, with no real warning, a layer of thick felt closed down all about him. He was disembodied, there was no sensation, no universe, only himself and a distant murmur at the very ends of nothingness telling him something – telling him – telling him – He strained to hear and understand but there was all that thick felt between. Then the helmet was taken off his head, and the light was so bright that it hurt his eyes while