s.

Then the ugly thought hit me and my mind couldn't face it for some time.

_Reorientation._

Catherine's cheerful willingness to help them must be reorientation and
nothing else.

Now, although I've mentioned reorientation before, what I actually know
about it is meager. It makes Dr. Jekylls out of former Mr. Hydes and the
transformation is complete. It can be done swiftly; the rapidity depends
upon the strength of the mind of the operator compared to the mind of
the subject. It is slightly harder to reorient a defiant mind than a
willing one. It sticks unless someone else begins to tinker again. It is
easier to make a good man out of a bad one than the reverse, although
the latter is eminently possible. This is too difficult a problem to
discuss to the satisfaction of everybody, but it seems to go along with
the old theory that "Good" does benefit the tribe of mankind in the long
run, while "Bad" things cause trouble. I'll say no more than to point
out that no culture based upon theft, murder, piracy, and pillage, has
ever survived.

The thought of Catherine's mind being tampered with made me seethe with
anger. I forgot my pain and began to probe around wildly, and as I
probed I began to know the real feeling of helpless futility.

For here I was, practically immobilized and certainly dependent upon
them for help. This was no time to attempt a rescue of my
sweetheart--who would only be taken away kicking and screaming all the
way from here to the first place where I could find a haven and have her
re-reoriented. The latter would not be hard; among the other things I
knew about reorientation was that it could be negated by some strong
emotional ties and a personal background that included worthy objection
to the new personality.

For my perceptive digging I came up with nothing but those things that
any hospital held. Patients, nurses, interns, orderlies; a couple of
doctors, a scholar presiding over a sheaf of files. And finally
Catherine puttering over an autoclave. She was setting out a string of
instruments under the tutelage of a superintendent of nurses who was
explaining how the job should be done.

I took a deep, thankful breath. Her mind was occupied enough to keep her
from reading the dark thoughts that were going through mine. I did not
even want a loved one to know how utterly helpless and angry I felt.

And then, because I was preoccupied with Catherine and my own thoughts,
the door opened wit