_The situation falling outside my area of primary conditioning, I reported in corpo to Technical Briefing, Level Nine, Section Four, Sub-section Twelve, Preliminary. I recalled that it was now necessary to supply my activity code ... my activity code ... my activity code.... (A sensation of disorientation grew; confused images flickered like vague background-noise; then a clear voice cut in:)_ _YOU HAVE SUFFERED PARTIAL PERSONALITY-FADE. DO NOT BE ALARMED. SELECT A GENERAL BACKGROUND ORIENTATION ROD FROM THE NEAREST EMERGENCY RACK. ITS LOCATION IS ..._ _I was moving along the stacks, to pause in front of a niche where a U-shaped plastic strip was clamped to the wall. I removed it, fitted it to my head--_ _(Then:) I was moving along the stacks, to pause in front of a niche--_ I was leaning against the wall, my head humming. The red stick lay on the floor at my feet. That last bit had been potent: something about a general background briefing-- "Hey, Foster!" I called, "I think I've got something...." "As I see it," I said, "this background briefing should tell us all we need to know about the ship; then we can plan our next move more intelligently. We'll know what we're doing." I took the thing from the wall, just as I had seemed to do in the phantom scene the red rod had projected for me. "These things make me dizzy," I said, handing it to Foster. "Anyway, you're the logical one to try it." He took the plastic shape, went to the reclining seat at the near end of the library hall, and settled himself. "I have an idea this one will hit harder than the others," he said. He fitted the clamp to his head and ... instantly his eyes glazed; he slumped back, limp. "Foster!" I yelled. I jumped forward, started to pull the plastic piece from his head, then hesitated. Maybe Foster's abrupt reaction was standard procedure. In any case whatever harm this gadget could do to Foster's brain had already been done. I might as well let the process take its course. But I didn't like it much. I went on reasoning with myself. After all, this was what the red rod had indicated as normal procedure in a given emergency. Foster was merely having his faded personality touched up. And his full-blown, three-dimensional personality was what we needed to give us the answers to a lot of the questions we'd been asking. Though the ship and everything in it had lain unused and silent for forgotten millennia, still the library should be good. The librarian was gone from his post these thirty centuries, and Foster was lying unconscious, and I was thirty thousand miles from home--but I shouldn't let trifles like that worry me.... * * * * * I got up and prowled the room. There wasn't much to look at except stacks and more stacks. The knowledge stored here was fantastic, both in magnitude and character. If I ever got home with a load of these rods....