"I thought so." Thorton glanced at the solar chronometer. "I haven't much time, but I'd better explain. You're new to the post and I don't think you've learned yet to evaluate the patients and their problems properly. In a sense, Nona is more impossible than Docchi. He was once a normal person. She never was. Her appearance is satisfactory; perhaps she's quite pretty, though you must remember that you're seeing her under circumstances that may make her seem more attractive than she really is. "She can't talk or hear. She never will. She doesn't have a larynx, and it wouldn't help if we gave her one. She simply doesn't have the nervous system necessary for speech or hearing. Her brain is definitely not structurally normal. As far as we're concerned, that abnormality is not in the nature of a mutation. It's more like an anomaly. Once cleft palates were frequent--prenatal nutritional deficiencies or traumas. Occasionally we still run into cases like that, but our surgical techniques are always adequate. Not with Nona, however. "She can't be taught to read or write; we've tried it. We dug out the old Helen Keller techniques and brought them up to date with no results. Apparently her mind doesn't work in a human fashion. We question whether very much of it works at all." "That might be a starting point," said Cameron. "If her brain--" "Gland Opera stuff," interrupted Thorton. "Or Rhine Opera, if you'll permit me to coin a term. We've thought of it, but it isn't true. We've tested her for every telepathic quality that the Rhine people list. Again no results. She has no special mental capacities. Just to make sure of that, we've given her periodic checkups. One last year, in fact." Cameron frowned in frustration. "Then it's your opinion that she's not able to survive in a normal society?" "That's it," answered the medicouncilor bluntly. "You'll have to face the truth--you can't get rid of any of them." "With or without their cooperation, I'll manage," said Cameron. "I'm sure you will." The medicouncilor's manner didn't ooze confidence. "Of course, if you need help we can send reinforcements." The implication was clear enough. "I'll keep them out of trouble," Cameron promised. The picture and the voice were fading. "It's up to you. If it turns out to be too difficult, get in touch with the Medicouncil...." The robot operator broke in: "The ship is beyond direct telecom range. If you wish to continue the conversation, it will have to be relayed through the nearest main station. At present, that is Mars." Aside from the time element, which was considerable, it wasn't likely that he would get any better answers than he could supply for himself. Cameron shook his head. "We are through, thanks." He got heavily to his feet. That wasn't a psychological reaction at all. He really was heavier. He made a mental note. He would have to investigate.