oward the monster. He heard the voice of a small boy whimpering:
"Musha, oh Musha, don't, _please_ don't." But the dog wouldn't hear and
the monster flashed an enormous evil eye, just once and then it gripped
the dog with its tentacle arms tearing its body apart, chewing it up
between horrible sabre teeth.... As through an ether mask he heard the
two medics say: "That must have been a considerable shock to him," and
"With a sensitive nature like that, and at that sensitive age, such an
impression becomes permanent."

The Alexander Hamilton Military Academy appeared, not real, yet more
than real. It was a narrow court yard surrounded by huge walls slanting
toward the inside; it was huge and forbidding, fortress-towers standing
guard, it was enormous gates forever barred, it was the figure of a huge
Marine pacing fiercely back and forth in front of those gates, the same
ghostly Marine watching all gates so that nobody could escape....

"That's probably his father," the voices whispered behind his ears.
"Yes; the archetype. He'll bring up the Mother, too, I'll bet...."

As in those paintings of the primitives where kings and queens are very
tall and common folks are very small, Lee saw her now: Mother. That had
been just after induction when he had brought her what he thought was
joyous news. Her face filled the whole screen. It looked as if composed
from jagged ectoplasms, quite transparent except for the eyes. Deep and
burning with pain they were, boring into his own. And there was smoke
coming out of her mouth and it formed words: "But, Semper, you are still
a child. One mustn't use children for this sort of thing; one mustn't."
Every letter of these smoke-written words seemed to be flying toward him
on wings....

"Terrific," the voices murmured at Lee's back. "Remember the case
history? She died of cancer six months after he went overseas." "Yes, I
remember; he's never seen her again. He's probably built up a strong
complex out of that one, too."

On the screen now danced images almost totally abstracted from the
realities of the filmed documentaries from the war.

They were whirling columns of smoke; they were like the vast, dark
interior of a huge thunderhead cloud through which a glider soars,
illuminated only by the flashes of lightning as for split seconds they
revealed a fraction of some horrible reality: A burning ocean with
screaming human faces bobbing in the flames. The whirling tracks of a
tank going a