convictions to consider. The undertakers have a lobby. I've heard they got spies right in the White House, ready to assassinate if they have to. Death is their whole life. You got to realize that."

"That's not enough. Not nearly enough."

"Think of all the problems it would cause. Insurance, for one thing. Overpopulation. Birth control is a touchy subject. They'd have to take it up if everybody got resurrected when they died, wouldn't they?"

"But what do they do about it? Against it?"

"There are a lot of fakes and quacks in the resurrection business. When the cops find out about a place, they break in, smash all the equipment and arrest everybody in sight. That's about all they can do. The charges, if any, come under general vice classification."

"I don't understand," Linton complained. "Why haven't I heard about it?"

"They didn't talk much about white slavery in Victorian England. I read an article in Time the other day that said 'death' was our dirty word, not sex. You want to shock somebody, you tell him, 'You're going to be dead someday,' not anything sexual. You know how it is. The opposite of 'live' these days is 'video-taped.'"

"I see," Linton said.

He tried to assimilate it. Of course he had, he reminded himself, been out of touch for some time. It might be true. Then again, they might be trying to trick him. They used to do that to see if he was really well. But the temptation was too strong.

"Tell me, Howell, where could I find a resurrectionist?"

Howell looked away. "Frank, I don't have anything to do with that kind of people and if you're smart, you'll not either."

Linton's fingers imprinted the linen. "Damn you, Howell, you tell me!"

Howell climbed to his feet hurriedly. "I take you out to dinner to console you over the loss of your wife a half a year ago, and to make you feel welcome back to the society of your fellows after being in the hospital for a nervous breakdown. I do all that, and for thanks, you yell at me and curse me. You kooks are all alike!"

Howell threw money on the table with the same kind of disinterest as the thick-set man and stalked out.

I've got to hurry too, Linton thought. It's 

 Prev. P 3/8 next