wanting to receive, never give. What does it add up to? A fix, a freeze in the pre-natal stage where you were floating free and completely irresponsible in your mother's amniotic fluid. That's why you're here in the basketball."

Von Ulrich's intense eyes seemed to reach out like arms to enfold Barton, then recoiled as Barton shrugged and said: "So, it's like my Ma's womb. What difference does it make what you call it as long as I'm happy in it and do my job?"

Von Ulrich's lips moved soundlessly and then he pointed a finger into Barton's nose. "It makes a helluva lot of difference what you call it. You may be doing an efficient job here, but for the wrong reasons. I wish I could recommend, on the basis of my diagnosis, that you agree to a month's checkup in the Martian Clinic but--"

Barton interrupted. "I'm glad you can't. I wouldn't like that as much as this. Maybe your reports won't cut much ice as long as I keep up the perfect service record."

Von Ulrich's jaws were ridged. "Damn the military system! Damn a system that says a man has to stay up here till he's dead or crazy or makes a mistake!"

"But Doc, I like it. I'm happier here, I think. Maybe I wasn't normal on Earth. Maybe I'm not normal here, or maybe being abnormal on Earth makes me normal here. I'm happy and I do my work."

Von Ulrich backed away a few steps, then turned and ran out and slammed the sliding panel. He didn't say goodbye to Barton this time, or that he would be back. But Barton took no hope from Von Ulrich's lack of ceremony.

Von Ulrich did come back, several times. Barton was sleeping a great deal now. He didn't putter with the gimmicks much, not even the clay, and he'd about read the books out. He slept a lot and yet there was a funny heavy feeling as though he never did quite sleep or never quite woke up either. But it was a good feeling because when a man was too sound asleep he didn't enjoy it because he didn't know anything about it. This was sort of in-between, and Barton loved it. Sometimes he would blink his eyes and see Von Ulrich standing there, probably with some new testing device, or with a notebook open, or with a helmet with wires to attach to Barton's skull to record something.

Another time he thought some stranger was there and then he realized that Von Ulrich's face was sagging and wrinkled and that his hair was thinner and gray.

"Why not 

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