e._

That something could have been worse. If it had gone a little further,
he might have been left a mindless creature without a language, unaware
of being human, of being a man, of being of Earth. A certain amount had
been left to him.

But when he tried to think beyond the basic facts in his possession, he
came to a dark and horror-filled area. _Do Not Enter._ Exploration into
his own mind was as dangerous as a journey to--what? He couldn't find an
analogue, though he suspected that many existed.

_I must have been sick._

That was the only reasonable explanation. He was a man with the
recollection of memories. He must at one time have had that priceless
wealth of recall which now he could only deduce from the limited
evidence at his disposal. At one time he must have had specific memories
of birds, trees, friends, family, status, a wife perhaps. Now he could
only theorize about them. Once he had been able to say, this is like,
or, that reminds me of. Now nothing reminded him of anything, and things
were only like themselves. He had lost his powers of contrast and
comparison. He could no longer analyze the present in terms of the
experienced past.

_This must be a hospital._

Of course. He was being cared for in this place. Kindly doctors were
working to restore his memory, to replace his identity, to restore his
judgment apparatus, to tell him who and what he was. It was very good of
them; he felt tears of gratitude start in his eyes.

He stood up and walked slowly around his small room. He went to the door
and found it locked. That locked door gave him a moment of panic which
he sternly controlled. Perhaps he had been violent.

Well, he wouldn't be violent any more. They'd see. They would award him
all possible patient privileges. He would speak about that with the
doctor.

He waited. After a long time, he heard footsteps coming down the
corridor outside his door. He sat on the edge of the cot and listened,
trying to control his excitement.

The footsteps stopped beside his door. A panel slid open, and a face
peered in.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked.

He walked up to the panel, and saw that the man who questioned him was
dressed in a brown uniform. He had an object on his waist which could
be identified, after a moment, as a weapon. This man was undoubtedly a
guard. He had a blunt, unreadable face.

"Could you tell me my name?" he asked the guard.

"Call yourself 402," the guard said. "Th