otes.

He lay down. Doctor Wayn put him through a general examination, then a
specific check for suggestibility, hypnotic index, reactions to the
eleven basic drug groups, and susceptibility to tetanic and epileptic
seizures. He jotted down his results on a pad, checked his figures, went
to a cabinet, and began mixing drugs.

"Is this likely to be dangerous?" Barrent asked.

"It shouldn't be," Doctor Wayn said. "You appear healthy enough. Quite
healthy, in fact, and with a low suggestibility rating. Of course,
epileptic fits _do_ occur, probably because of cumulative allergic
reactions. Can't help that sort of thing. And then there are the
traumas, which sometimes result in insanity and death. They form an
interesting study in themselves. And some people get stuck in their
dreams and are unable to be extricated. I suppose that could be
classified as a form of insanity, although actually it isn't."

The doctor had finished mixing his drugs. He was loading a hypodermic
with the mixture. Barrent was having serious doubts about the
advisability of the whole thing.

"Perhaps I should postpone this visit," he said. "I'm not sure that I--"

"Don't worry about a thing," the doctor said. "This is the finest Dream
Shop on Omega. Try to relax. Tight muscles can result in tetanic
convulsions."

"I think Mr. Arkdragen was right," Barrent said. "Maybe I shouldn't have
a dream about Earth for my first visit. He said it was dangerous."

"Well, after all," the doctor said, "what's life without a little risk?
Besides, the most common damage is brain lesions and burst blood
vessels. And we have full facilities for taking care of that sort of
thing."

He poised the hypodermic over Barrent's left arm.

"I've changed my mind," Barrent said, and started to get off the bed.
Doctor Wayn deftly slid the needle into Barrent's arm.

"One does not change one's mind," he told Barrent, "inside a Dream Shop.
Try to relax...."

Barrent relaxed. He lay back on the bed, and heard a shrill singing in
his ears. He tried to focus on the doctor's face. But the face had
changed.

The face was old, round, and fleshy. Ridges of fat stood out on the chin
and neck. The face was perspiring, friendly, worried.

It was Barrent's 5th Term Advisor.

"Now, Will," the Advisor said, "you must be careful. You must learn to
restrain that temper of yours. Will, you _must_!"

"I know, sir," Barrent said. "It's just that I get so mad at that--"

"Will!"