Dr. Gorss stopped before a door marked "Dr. C. L. Letzmiller," and opened it. "The last one. You take these," he handed Lee a thick manila folder, "and tell the girl Dr. Gorss sent you for your interview." He waited until Lee had entered, then closed the door and left. * * * * * Evidently Dr. Letzmiller had been expecting him, for very shortly Lee found himself sitting at the doctor's desk, comfortably seated in a brown leather armchair. He was facing a rather pudgy man, who was leafing through the manila folder Lee had given him. Finally Dr. Letzmiller looked up. "Well. Well now, Mr. Lee, suppose you first tell me about yourself, and then I'll tell you about me." "Tell you about me?" Lee asked. Dr. Letzmiller smiled. It was another tolerant smile, but it seemed more sincere than Gorss'. "I suppose the best way would be for me to review these facts on your medical history. You are Vincent Bonard Lee?" "Yes, sir." "Date of birth?" "August 11, 1934." "That would make you four hundred nine years old." Lee hesitated. He never really thought of his age. It had long ago ceased to be of any importance to him. Of course he remembered his birth date. It was one of those facts that always appears on your records, like your social security number. He did some calculation in his head, as rapidly as the constantly shifting blank spots in his thinking would allow him. "Yes, sir." "It shows here that you first underwent replacive surgery in 1991. Correct?" "Yes." "Remember what it was for?" "Yes, I had heart trouble. They fixed me up with one of those big jobs requiring my carrying batteries under my armpit." "One of those early models. And this shows that at various times since then you have undergone replacive surgery some eighty-seven times, including three replacements of a pulmonary nature." Again Lee hesitated. The number of times he had had a worn organ or tissue repaired or replaced was more than a little hazy. After the novelty of the first few times when he found himself with a new stomach, or liver, or muscle, he had started to take these things as a matter of course. He gave a little nervous laugh. "If that paper says so, I suppose so, doctor." "Yes. Well, everything seems to be functioning properly now, doesn't it? With the exception of your head, of course." "Yes, yes I feel fine otherwise." Lee was feeling uncomfortable. "Doctor, could you tell me what this is all about? I must have answered these questions half a dozen times before to those other people." "In just a moment. First I need to know you a little better. Your medical history lists your occupation as 'cabinet maker'." "That's right." Lee was becoming more and more uncomfortable. The extensive examinations had tired him, and repetition of the answers to all these questions was making him edgy. "Doctor, can't you at least tell me what type operation I'm going to have?" "What do you think it will be?"