to a wild, impossible, fantastic dream world.
And we've got to get him out of it, because what he knows, what he's
trying to hide from us, is so incredibly dangerous that we don't dare
let him go."

The big man stared at Manelli, his dark eyes flashing. "Can't you see
that? Or would you rather sit back and let Harry Scott go the way that
Paulus and Wineberg and the others went?"

"But to use the Parkinson Field on him--" Dr. Manelli shook his head
hopelessly. "He'd offered to come over, George. We didn't need to use
it."

"Sure, he offered to come--fine, fine. But supposing he changed his mind
on the way? For all we know, he had us figured into his paranoia, too,
and never would have come near the Hoffman Center."

Dr. Webber shook his head. "We're not playing a game any more, Frank.
Get that straight. I thought it was a game a couple of years ago, when
we first started. But it ceased to be a game when men like Paulus and
Wineberg walked in sane, healthy men, and came out blubbering idiots.
That's no game any more. We're onto something big. And, if Harry Scott
can lead us to the core of it, then I can't care too much what happens
to Harry Scott."

Dr. Manelli stood up sharply, walked to the window, and looked down over
the bright, clean buildings of the Hoffman Medical Center. Out across
the terraced park that surrounded the glassed towers and shining metal
of the Center rose the New City, tier upon tier of smooth, functional
architecture, a city of dreams built up painfully out of the rubble of
the older, ruined city.

"You could kill him," the young man said finally. "The psycho-integrator
isn't any standard interrogative technique; it's dangerous and
treacherous. You never know for sure just what you're doing when you dig
down into a man's brain tissue with those little electrode probes."

"But we can learn the truth about Harry Scott," Dr. Webber broke in.
"Six months ago, Harry Scott was working with us, a quiet, affable,
pleasant young fellow, extremely intelligent, intensely co-operative. He
was just the man we needed to work with us, an engineer who could take
our data and case histories, study them, and subject them to a
completely nonmedical analysis. Oh, we had to have it done--the
problem's been with us for a hundred years now, growing ever since the
1950s and 60s--insanity in the population, growing, spreading without
rhyme or reason, insinuating itself into every nook and cranny of our
civilized l