e in
which his colleagues would concur. But Anders had a lamentable
confidence in his own sanity. In which case--

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I don't know," the voice answered.

Anders realized that the voice was speaking within his own mind. Very
suspicious.

"You don't know who you are," Anders stated. "Very well. _Where_ are
you?"

"I don't know that, either." The voice paused, and went on. "Look, I
know how ridiculous this must sound. Believe me, I'm in some sort of
limbo. I don't know how I got here or who I am, but I want desperately
to get out. Will you help me?"

* * * * *

Still fighting the idea of a voice speaking within his head, Anders knew
that his next decision was vital. He had to accept--or reject--his own
sanity.

He accepted it.

"All right," Anders said, lacing the other shoe. "I'll grant that you're
a person in trouble, and that you're in some sort of telepathic contact
with me. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"I'm afraid not," the voice said, with infinite sadness. "You'll have to
find out for yourself."

"Can you contact anyone else?"

"No."

"Then how can you talk with me?"

"I don't know."

Anders walked to his bureau mirror and adjusted his black bow tie,
whistling softly under his breath. Having just discovered that he was in
love, he wasn't going to let a little thing like a voice in his mind
disturb him.

"I really don't see how I can be of any help," Anders said, brushing a
bit of lint from his jacket. "You don't know where you are, and there
don't seem to be any distinguishing landmarks. How am I to find you?" He
turned and looked around the room to see if he had forgotten anything.

"I'll know when you're close," the voice said. "You were warm just
then."

"Just then?" All he had done was look around the room. He did so again,
turning his head slowly. Then it happened.

The room, from one angle, looked different. It was suddenly a mixture of
muddled colors, instead of the carefully blended pastel shades he had
selected. The lines of wall, floor and ceiling were strangely off
proportion, zigzag, unrelated.

Then everything went back to normal.

"You were _very_ warm," the voice said. "It's a question of seeing
things correctly."

Anders resisted the urge to scratch his head, for fear of disarranging
his carefully combed hair. What he had seen wasn't so strange. Everyone
sees one or two things in his life that make hi