“Pentothal narcosynthesis was an experiment when they first tried it. So is this—empathy surrogate. If there’s a risk, I’ll be taking it, not Gregson.”

“You can’t be sure.”

They stepped into the elevator.

“I am sure,” Bruno said, with odd emphasis. “That’s been my rule all my life. I make sure. I’ve got to be sure before I undertake anything new. This experiment can’t possibly fail. I don’t run risks with patients.”

“Well—”

“Come in here.” Bruno led the way from the elevator to an examination room. “I want a final check-up. Try my blood-pressure.” He stripped off his white coat and deftly wound the pneumatic rubber around his arm.

“I’ve explained the whole situation to Gregson’s wife.” Bruno went on as Morrissey squeezed the bulb. “She’s signed the authorization papers. She knows it’s the only chance to cure Gregson. After all, Ken, the man’s been insane for seven years. Cerebral deterioration’s beginning to set in.”

“Cellular, you mean? Um-m. I’m not worried about that. Blood-pressure okay. Heart—”

Morrissey picked up a stethoscope. After a while he nodded.

“A physician hasn’t any right to be afraid of the dark,” Bruno said.

“A physician isn’t charting unmapped territory,” Morrissey said abruptly. “You can dissect a cadaver, but you can’t do that to the psyche. As a psychiatrist you should be the first to admit that we don’t know all there is to know about the mind. Would you take a transfusion from a meningitis patient?”

Bruno chuckled. “Witchcraft, Ken—pure witchcraft! The germ theory of psychosis! Afraid I’ll catch Gregson’s insanity? I hate to disillusion you, but episodic disorders aren’t contagious.”

“Just because you can’t see a bug doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” Morrissey growled. “What about a filterable virus? A few years ago nobody could conceive of liquid life.”

“Next you’ll be going back to Elizabethan times and talking about spleen and humors.” Bruno resumed his shirt and coat. He sobered. “In a way, though, this is a transfusion. The only type of transfusion possible. I’ll admit no one knows all there is to know about psychoses. Nobody knows what makes a man think, either. But that’s where physics is beginning to meet 

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