cluding his pistol and combat-knife; his carbine was gone, however. He
could feel the weight of his helmet on his head. The room still rocked
and swayed a little, but the faces of the people were coming into focus.

* * * * *

He counted them, saying each number to himself: one, two, three, four,
five men; one woman. He swung his feet over the edge of the table, being
careful that it would be between him and the others when he rose, and
began inching his right hand toward his right hip, using his left hand,
on his brow, to misdirect attention.

"I would classify his actions as arising from conscious effort at
cortico-thalamic integration," the woman said, like an archaeologist who
has just found a K-ration tin at the bottom of a neolithic
kitchen-midden. She had the peculiarly young-old look of the spinster
teachers with whom Benson had worked before going to the war.

"I want to believe it, but I'm afraid to," another man for whom Benson
had no name-association said. He was portly, gray-haired,
arrogant-faced; he wore a short black jacket with a jewelled
zipper-pull, and striped trousers.

Benson cleared his throat. "Just who are you people?" he inquired. "And
just where am I?"

Anthony grabbed Gregory's hand and pumped it frantically.

"I've dreamed of the day when I could say this!" he cried.
"Congratulations, Gregory!"

* * * * *

That touched off another bedlam, of joy, this time, instead of despair.
Benson hid his amusement at the facility with which all of them were
discovering in one another the courage, vision and stamina of true
patriots and pioneers. He let it go on for a few moments, hoping to
glean some clue. Finally, he interrupted.

"I believe I asked a couple of questions," he said, using the voice he
reserved for sergeants and second lieutenants. "I hate to break up this
mutual admiration session, but I would appreciate some answers. This
isn't anything like the situation I last remember...."

"He remembers!" Gregory exclaimed. "That confirms your first derivation
by symbolic logic, and it strengthens the validity of the second...."

The schoolteacherish woman began jabbering excitedly; she ran through
about a paragraph of what was pure gobbledegook to Benson, before the
man with the arrogant face and the jewelled zipper-pull broke in on her.

"Save that for later, Paula," he barked. "I'd be very much interested in
your theorie