an echoing, roaring hell of night and thunder....

“Oh, good heavens!” Bruno moaned. “What a dream! Morrissey, get me a sedative!”

The psychiatrist laughed. “You’ve had a dream-within-a-dream before, haven’t you, Doctor? It sounds unnerving, but now you’ve told me all about it. The catharsis is better than a barbiturate.”

“I suppose so.” Bruno lay back in the bed.

This wasn’t the room he had dreamed about. It was much larger, and outside the windows was normal darkness. Morrissey had said that the anesthetic had lasted for several hours.

“Anyway, I’m jittery,” Bruno said.

“I didn’t know you had any nerves.... Here, Harwood.” Morrissey turned to the nurse and scribbled down a few symbols on a pad. “There. We’ll get your sedative. Don’t you want to know about Gregson?”

“I’d forgotten about him completely,” Bruno acknowledged. “Can you tell anything definite yet?”

“We caught him on the downcurve of the depressive cycle, remember? Well, he isn’t talking yet, but there’s a touch of euphoria. The elation will wear off. One thing, you’ve broken the cycle. His mind isn’t adjusted yet to those—damper bars you put in ’em, but off-hand, I’d say it looks pretty good.”

“What does Parsons think?”

“He’s immersed in calculations. Said he’d be around to see you as soon as you woke up. Here’s that sedative.”

Bruno accepted the capsules from the nurse and washed them down with water.

“Thanks. I’d rather rest a bit. I must have unconsciously piled up quite a lot of tension.”

“So I gather,” Morrissey said drily. “Well, here’s the bell-cord. Anything else?”

“Just rest.” Bruno hesitated. “Oh—one thing.” He extended his arm. “Pinch it.”

Morrissey stared and chuckled.

“Still not sure you’re awake? I can assure you you are, Doctor. I’m not going to jump out of the window. And it’s still night, you’ll notice.”

When Bruno didn’t move, Morrissey pinched up a fold of the other’s forearm between thumb and finger.

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