ur society, some
undiscovered factor to account for the mental illness, the divergent
minds, but you can't kill a man to trace it down!"

"It's too neat," said Webber. "He comes back to tell us the truth, and
we call him insane. We say he's paranoid, throw him in restraint, place
him in an asylum; and we never _know_ what he found. The truth is too
incredible; when we hear it, it must be insanity we're hearing."

The big doctor laughed, jabbing his thumb at the screen. "This isn't
insanity we're seeing. Oh, no, this is the answer we're following. I
won't stop now. I've waited too long for this show."

"Well, I say stop it while he's still alive."

Dr. Webber's eyes were deadly. "Get out, Frank," he said softly. "I'm
not stopping now."

His eyes returned to the screen, to the bobbing figure that the
psycho-integrator traced on the fluorescent background. Twenty years of
search had led him here, and now he knew the end was at hand.

5

It was a wild, nightmarish journey. At every step, Harry's senses
betrayed him: his wrist watch turned into a brilliant blue-green snake
that snapped at his wrist; the air was full of snarling creatures that
threatened him at every step. But he fought them off, knowing that they
would harm him far less than panic would. He had no idea where to hunt,
nor whom to try to reach, but he knew they were there in the New City,
and somehow he knew they would help him, if only he could find them.

He got off the moving strip as soon as the lights of the center of the
city were clear below, and stepped into the self-operated lift that
sped down to ground level. From the elevator, he moved on to one of the
long, honeycombed concourses, filled with passing shoppers who stared at
the colorful, enticing three-dimensional displays.

At one of the intersections ahead, he spotted a visiphone station, and
dropped onto the little seat before the screen. There had been a number,
if only he could recall it. But as he started to dial, the silvery
screen shattered into a thousand sparkling glass chips, showering the
floor with crystal and sparks.

Harry cursed, grabbed the hand instrument, and jangled frantically for
the operator. Before she could answer, the instrument grew warm in his
hand, then hot and soft, like wax. Slowly, it melted and ran down his
arm.

He bolted out into the stream of people, trying desperately to draw some
comfort from the crowd around him.

He felt utterly alone;