Jeff in the chair, his sweat. He clenched

his as he to of his muscles. _How

long had Schiml been there?_ Just a second or two? Or had he

been Jeff for ten minutes, him the filing

codes, him the card into his shirt? There was

nothing to be told from the doctor's face, as the man at

his quarry. There was nothing in the of the who

stood him in the hallway, their hands on their heavy

sidearms.

Schiml to one of them, slightly, and they disappeared,

their in the still them. Then he turned

his to Jeff, the of a still flickering

about his eyes. "Find anything interesting?" he asked, his eyes

narrowing slightly.

Jeff a cigarette to his lips, the to steady

it. "Nothing to speak of," he said hoarsely. "Been a long time since I

worked one of these files." His Schiml's defiantly, held

them in desperation. Finally Schiml and looked away.

"Looking for anything special?" he asked smoothly.

"Nothing special." Jeff out into the room, his trembling

nerves slightly.

"I see. Just sight-seeing, I suppose."

Jeff shrugged. "More or less. I wanted to see the setup."

A Schiml's face. "Particularly the in the

filing room," he said softly. "I I'd you here. Blackie

said you'd just out for a walk, so we just took a guess."

The doctor's on Jeff's face. "And all up

like a doctor, too."

He across the room, the cap from Jeff's head, snapped

the to the with a of his hand. "We don't do

this around here," he said, his voice like a razor. "Doctors

wear these, nobody else. Got that straight? We also do not wander

around into rooms, just looking at the setup. If the

guards had you at it, you wouldn't be alive right now--which

would have been a dirty shame, since we have plans for you." He jerked

his thumb toward the door. "After you, Jeff. We've got some work to do

tonight."

Jeff moved out into the hall, took up the tall doctor as he

started for the escalator. "You weren't about me

tonight, surely."

Dr. Schiml at him. "And why not?"

"Look, it's late. I'll be here in the morning."

The doctor walked on in for a long moment. Jeff followed, his

mind racing, a thousand questions through in succession:

questions he not ask, questions he couldn't answer. How much did

Schiml know? And how much did he suspect? A ran Jeff's back.

What had he been doing with the dice? Could Blackie possibly have told

him? Or he have about the in the game

room through other channels? And what he learn in the of

the that he didn't know already?

Jeff puzzled as he matched the doctor's pace. They up the

escalator, the toward an area the living

quarters that Jeff hadn't before. Above all, he must keep his

nerve, keep a tight on his tongue, on his reactions, make sure

that there were no to tear from him that he didn't

dare divulge.

He looked at Schiml, sharply, a on his face. "I still don't see

why this can't wait till morning. Why the big hurry?"

Schiml stopped, to Jeff in exasperation. "You still think we're

running a here, don't you?" he snapped. "Well, we're

not. We're doing a job, a job that can't wait for or anything

else. We work a twenty-four-hour here. All you do is provide

the where-withal to work with--nothing more."

"But I'll be tired, nervous. I don't see how I pass any of

test."

Schiml laughed shortly. "These aren't the of you pass or

fail. Actually, the more and you are, the the

results will be for you. They'll give you an of safety when

you're to a job. What the tell us is what we can expect

from you, the very minimum. Basically, we're to save your life

for you."

Jeff at him, him through doors into a long,

brightly corridor, with green and a floor.

"What do you mean, save my life? You to in just the

opposite here, from what I've heard."

The doctor an noise. "You got the information," he

said angrily. "That's the trouble. You people upon to

and the stories, all the you about

the work here. And it's all either false or only half-truth.

This of bloodthirstiness, for instance. It's just plain not

true.

"One of the biggest in our work here is making for

optimum for the success of our experiments. By 'optimum' we

mean the best from standpoints: from the standpoint

of what we're trying to learn--the itself, that is--and from

the of the researcher, too. But most particularly, we're

working for for the animals--you, in

this case."

Jeff snorted. "But still, we're just animals, from your

viewpoint," he said sharply.

"Not _just_ animals," Schiml angrily. "You're

_the_ animals. Working with beings isn't the same as

working with cats and dogs and monkeys--far from it. Dogs and cats are

stronger and tougher, more than humans, which is why they're

used for work of great success. But basically, they're

expendable. If something goes wrong, that's too bad. But we've learned

something, and the dog or cat can be without too many tears.

But we don't the same about beings."

"I'm to that," said Jeff sourly. "It makes me better."

"I'm not trying to be facetious. I it. We're not ghouls. We don't

have any less for life than anyone else, just because

we're for some death in the work we're doing. For one

thing, we study every being we use, try to out his strengths

and weaknesses, physical and mental. We want to know how he to

what, how fast he recuperates, how much physical his body

can take, how his will extend. Then when we know

these things, we can fit him into the program of which will

give him the very best of out in one piece. At the same

time, he will a spot that we need filled. No, there's no delight

here in taking life or safety."

They off the and entered a small office.

Schiml Jeff to a chair, sat himself a small desk

and through of forms. The room was silent

for a moment. Then the doctor a on the telephone panel.

When the light an answer to him, he said: "Gabe? He's here.

Better come on up."

Then he the and back, a long,

slender cigar and the green around his neck.

Jeff him, still over what he had just said. The doctor

seemed so matter-of-fact. What he had said sense, but in

the picture there to be a hole. "This like it's a

great setup--for you doctors and researchers," he said finally. "But

what's it leading to? What good is it doing? Oh, I know, it increases

your knowledge of men's minds, but how it help the man in the

street? How it actually help _anyone_, in the long run? How do

you the government to it with the financial they're

facing in Washington?"

Schiml his and laughed aloud. "You've got the cart

before the horse," he said, when he got of his voice. "Support?

Listen, my lad, the government is itself just to keep

our going. Did you that? _Bankrupting itself!_ And

why? Because unless our work pays off--and soon--there isn't going to

be any government left. That's why. Because we're something

that's away at the very of our civilization, something

that's and and destroying."

He at Jeff, his wide. "Oh, the government that the

situation is grave. We had to prove it to them, it to them time

and again, until they couldn't miss it any longer. But they saw it

finally. They've it for a century or more, since the

end of the Second War. They've the instability, the bank

runs and the stock market dives. They've the and moral

decay in the cities. They see it, but it took to

prove that there was a pattern to it, a pattern of and and

putrefaction that's been away the of this colossal

civilization of ours."

The doctor up, and across the room and sent blue

smoke into the air from the cigar as he walked. "Oh, they support us

all right. We don't know for sure what we're fighting, but we do know

the answer is in the of the minds and of man. We're

working against a disease--a of men's minds--and we

are to use men to search those minds, to study them, to try to

weed out the of the disease. And so we have the Mercy Men to

help us fight."

The doctor's in a as he sat on

the chair again, the cigar out in the tray. "Mercy

Men who have no in their souls, who have no concern

with what they're doing, or what it may be accomplishing. They are

interested in one thing only: the amount of money they'll be paid for

having their loose."

The was in Dr. Schiml's eyes. "Well, we don't who we

have: addicts, murderers, prostitutes, the trash from the

skid-row gutters. They're all here, like to a hill.

But they're here on of mercy, they like it or not, or

know it or not. And we take them they're the only ones who can

be bought, and we them for all we're worth, so that the will

be accomplished." He took a and at Jeff.

"That's you I'm talking about, you know."

Jeff's hands as he out his smoke. He up as the

corridor door opened, a small, dark-haired man with thick

glasses. He was in doctor's whites. Jeff his chest

nervously and took a breath, still aware of the card

in his shirt front.

"All right," he said hoarsely, "so you're talking about me. When do we

get started with this?"

* * * * *

The little room was cramped; it of anesthetic. Jeff

walked in, by Dr. Schiml and the other doctor, and started

removing his shoes. "This is Doctor Gabriel," Schiml said, indicating

his colleague. "He'll start you off with a complete physical.

Then you'll have a neurological. Come on into the next room as soon as

you're undressed." And with that the two doctors through

swinging doors into an room.

Jeff his shirt and swiftly, the

file card and it under the of his right shoe. It

wasn't the perfect place, if anyone were looking for the

card. But not once the had Schiml's strayed

curiously to Jeff's shirt front. Either Schiml had not him take

the card, or else the doctor's self-control was superhuman. And no

mention of the had been made, either. Jeff gave his shoes a final

pat, his on one of the the and

pushed through the doors into the next room.

It was huge, dome-ceilinged, with a dozen different

sections from one another. One end looked like a classroom, with

blackboards a whole wall. Another the

paraphernalia of a complete gymnasium. The doctors were in a

corner that was as an room: the tables

were with green sheeting, and the had gleaming

cabinets full of green-wrapped and instruments.

Schiml sat on the of a desk. His Jeff closely as he

lit a cigarette, and into the air. Dr. Gabriel

motioned Jeff to the table and started the physical without further

delay.

It was the most rigorous, physical Jeff had

ever had. The little, doctor and him from head

to toe. He retinal-pattern photos, pore-patterns,

listened, prodded, thumped, auscultated. He Jeff onto

the chair and started going over him with a hammer, him

sharply in of areas, a most of

muscular and twitches. Then the was replaced by a small

electrode, with which the doctor and tested, spasmodic

jerks to the of Jeff's and arms and thighs. Finally, Dr.

Gabriel relaxed, sat Jeff in a soft chair and retired to a small

portable cabinet nearby.

Dr. Schiml put out his and up. "Any questions we

begin?"

Jeff almost aloud. Any questions? His nerves all over

and his mind was full of conjecture--wild, of what

they would in the testing, of what the results would bring.

Suppose they learned about the dice? Suppose they out that he

was a fraud, that he was in the Center on a private mission, a mission

of death all his own, and no party to their own of death? And

yet, if he had to through, the of work he would be assigned

to would upon the results of the tests--that sure. But

what if they him unconscious, him out, used drugs?

His mind frantically, for some way of things,

some way of the red tape of and assignment, to

give him time to complete his own mission and out. But he that

already he must have suspicions. Schiml must have suspected

that all the cards were not on the table, yet Schiml to

overlook his suspicions. And the had to move more and more

swiftly, him to the point where he would have to sign

a and take an assignment, or his purpose for being

in the Center. If he were to Conroe, he must him the

chips were down.

He at Schiml, his mind still for something to hang

onto. He nothing. "No. No questions, I guess," he said.

The doctor looked at him closely, then in resignation. "All

right," he said, tiredly. "You'll have a whole series of of all

kinds: physical stamina, alertness, time, intelligence,

sanity--everything we possibly need to know. But I should warn

you of one thing." He looked at Jeff, his serious. "All

of these are subjective. All of them will tell us about

you as a person: how you think, how you behave. Desperately essential

stuff, if you're to the of work we do here. What we find

is the whole of our assignments."

He paused for a long moment. "You'd be wise to to the truth. No

embellishments, no stuff. We can't do anything about it if you

don't choose to take the advice. But if you falsify, you're tampering

with your own life here."

Jeff blinked, shifting in his seat uneasily. _Don't worry about that,

Jack_, he thought. _I won't be around long for it to make any

difference._ Nevertheless the doctor's were from soothing.

If only Jeff maintain the the testing, keep his

wits about him as the progressed. Then he to the

hunt as soon as they were through.

He the doctor prepare a long paper on the desk. Then the

rapid-fire series of questions began: family history, personal history,

history of family and personal illness. The questions were

swift and businesslike, and Jeff his as he sat

back. He answered almost automatically. Then: "Ever been hypnotized

before?"

Something in Jeff's mind froze, a warning. "No," he snapped.

Schiml's imperceptibly. "Part of the should be

done under hypnosis, for your sake, and for the of speed." His

eyes Jeff's hard. "Unless you have some for objecting--"

"It won't work," Jeff swiftly, his mind racing. "Psychic block

of some kind--induced in childhood, probably. My father had a block

against it too." Every in his was tense, and he sat forward

in his seat, his wide.

Schiml shrugged. "It would make the a hundred easier

on you if you'd allow it. Some of these are and

some take a powerful long time without hypnotic-recovery aid. And of

course we keep all confidential--"

"No dice," said Jeff hoarsely.

The doctor again, over at Dr. Gabriel. "Hear that,

Gabe?"

The little doctor shrugged. "His funeral," he growled. He rolled a

small, shiny-paneled with to Jeff's side. "We'll

start on the less ones, then. This is a test. Very

simple. You just listen, mark the you hear. Keep your eyes

on the eyepiece; it records visio-audio times, tells us how

soon after you a word you a image of it." He snapped

the over Jeff's and moved a printed answer in

front of him on the desk. And then the started talking.

There was a long series of words, and softer.

Jeff marked them down, swiftly, his surroundings,

throwing his attention toward the test. The doctors retired to the

other of the room. They talked to each other in low whispers,

until he no longer them. There was only the low, insistent

whispering in the earphones.

And then the to louder again, but somehow he had lost

track of what they meant. He listened, his the gray

pearly screen in the eyepieces. His were to down

the words, but he couldn't the syllables.

They were _nonsense syllables_, with no meaning. His eyes

opened wide, a of through him, and his hands

gripped the arms of the chair as he to rise.

And then the light in his with such brilliance

that it sent pain through his brain. He let out a

stifled cry. He and to from the chair. But he was

blinded by the beam. And then he the bite his arm,

and the nonsense in his ears out into meaningful

phrases. A soft, voice was saying: "Relax ... ... sit

back and ... and rest...."

Slowly the over his body, and he his relax,

even as the voice instructed. He into the chair, and

soon his mind was clear of and worry and suspicion. He was still,

sleeping with the peaceful of a child.