Hocking began speaking to him, saying, "You are becoming accustomed to the stimulus, Spencer. That is good. You are making remarkable progress. Soon we will begin a few simple commands. But one thing is needed yet before you are ready. We must establish a permanent mental link through which my thought impulses can travel to you. Heretofore, I have been sending suggestions to you through your dreams. When our minds are linked, however, I shall be able to do so in your waking state as well."

Hocking smiled his skeletal smile and Spence, held in his place, stared impassively ahead.

"This will not harm you," soothed Hocking. "Relax. Close your eyes. Empty your mind of all thought. Think only of the color blue. Concentrate on the color blue, Spencer. Think of nothing else."

Spence obeyed the image's commands. He closed his eyes and filled his mindscreen with an intense, vibrant shade of blue. He relaxed his clenched fists and slumped; his head hung forward and his chin rested on his chest.

"In a moment I will tell you to open your eyes and look at me. But not before I tell you-do you understand? Concentrate. Do exactly as I say… concentrate…"

Spence felt his consciousness slipping away. It was as if his soul-all that which he called Spence and recognized as himself-began flowing from him, poured out like liquid from a bottle. The sensation sent a quiver up his spine and through his limbs. Once more the high-pitched tinkling sound increased, boring through the top of his head and into his skull.

Dizziness overcame him, and with it a tough little kernel of resistance formed somewhere deep within. But the powerful forces working on him threatened to steal even that away.

No! thought Spence. I cannot let this happen! Those words echoing inside his brain lacked force. All strength had gone out of him.

No! he cried again. Stop it! Stop it! He did not know whether he spoke the words aloud or whether he merely thought them. It did not matter. He held to the hard kernel of resistance, fighting to hang on to that last tiny shred of himself. He found that as he struggled to grasp it, a remnant of his will returned.

"Relax. Do not fight it. Relax, Spencer. This will not hurt you." Hocking's voice sounded inside him. Hocking was there inside him!

The hideous realization broke upon his shriveled awareness.

"I will not!" shouted Spence, snapping his head up. He opened his eyes and saw the shimmering green halo with Hocking's dreadful face glaring down on him. But he saw something else that shocked him back to his senses.

The quavering fibrils around the edge of the halo were stretched taunt and extending toward him, touching him. He knew that if he did not break the contact at once he would cease to exist. Spence Reston would become a hollow shell inhabited by Hocking's mind and controlled by Hocking's will. He could not let that happen.

Already he felt Hocking's presence seeping into him. He screamed and threw himself onto the floor, forcing his leaden extremities to move. But the tendrils did not release their hold, remained attached to his forehead.

Shaking with the effort, his muscles turning to jelly and his strength flowing away like water, he dragged himself across the floor to the sanibooth. Hand over hand he pulled himself to his feet.

"Sit down, Spencer. Relax. We are nearly finished. Relax. Concentrate… " Hocking's voice chanted inside his head. "Relax… relax… relax…"

He punched the access plate, and the door of the booth slid open. He teetered on the threshold.

"Relax, Spencer. Sit down."

Spence heard a crack and felt his cheek sliding down the stall's smooth wall. The booth seemed to tilt upside down and he slid to the floor, half in and half out. His head struck the sensor plate in the floor and he heard the whir of the mechanism as the gentle rain of powder began descending upon him like fine snow. The quiet drone of the mechanism was the last thing he heard.

13

… ARI SAT IN A white molded plastic chair next to Spence's bed. The nurses had just finished washing the last of the blue sanitizing powder from his hair. One side of his face bore the red poached look of a sunburn. He appeared to have suffered nothing worse than falling asleep on the beach at high noon.

The patient's breathing came slow and regular-the doctor had said that the worst was over. There would be some slight inflammation and pain due to the inhalation of the chemical, but nothing more serious. The physician indicated that it was a wonder Spence had not suffocated in the powder. His skin would be sensitive for a week or so and it would probably peel. Spence was fortunate, remarked Dr. Williams, that he had not fallen face up into the booth. He could have been blinded by the ultraviolet light. All in all, he had escaped unharmed.

"Did he tell you about his first `accident,' Miss Zanderson?" Dr. Williams had asked.

"No-he mentioned a bump on the head, I believe. He seemed fine. I never dreamed…"

"Oh, it's serious all right. Our young friend is manifesting definite self-destructive tendencies. He was found in the cargo bay with the lock open. He nearly died. I wouldn't tell you this, you understand, but he seems not to have any close friends – except you, of course."

Ari frowned and bit her lip. "What can I do, doctor?"

The medic shook his head slowly. "Only watch him. Get him to talk about what causes these attacks, if you can. We'll wait and see. It'll be better in the long run if he volunteers the information on his own. If we pry too hard, try to force him to tell us, it could drive the cause deeper.

"Of course, if the bottom drops out we'll intervene. I would rather it never came to that. And so would he, I'm sure. As with a lot of men in his position, one incident like that on his record and he would be ruined professionally."

Ari had listened to Dr. Williams intently, and her features reflected the turmoil of her emotions. She looked so forlorn when he finished speaking that he felt compelled to comfort her and discount his dire predictions. "Forgive me for speaking frankly," Dr. Williams said apologetically. "I tend to function on a 'worst case' basis. I may have overdramatized things a bit. He'll be all right. Your Dr. Reston is a strong-willed chap. He'll snap out of it, I daresay."

Ari thanked the doctor then and he had gone away, leaving her to wait beside the bed. She occupied her time puzzling over the physician's parting words: Your Dr. Reston. Was it really so obvious then? she wondered.

After a while a nurse brought in a cup of coffee for her and stayed to chat a little. There were no other patients in that particular wing at present, so Ari was free to stay as long as she wished. "You can even stretch out on one of the other beds if you like," the nurse suggested.

"I'm not tired, and I don't mind waiting. Thank you for the coffee, though."

The nurse left again, dimming the lights and immersing the rigidly efficient and scrupulously spotless hospital room into cool, soothing shadow. Ari heard the door sigh shut and, folding her hands in her lap and bowing her head, began to pray.

The golden crown of her bowed head was the first thing Spence saw when he woke up.

"I seem always to be waking up here." His voice was a hoarse whisper. His lungs burned and his throat felt as if it had been stripped raw.

Her head came up smiling. "It's because you fall asleep in such funny places."

"You heard about that, huh?"

She nodded her head, regarding him with eyes which seemed a deeper shade of blue, darkening out of sympathy for him. "You could have told me yourself," she said.

Spence shrugged. "There wasn't much to tell."

"How do you feel?"

"Okay."

"You sound terrible."