“But the note,” he exclaimed. “A simple matter! It was written on a material made entirely of separate molecules. A small charge of energy held them together for a brief period of time. The charge leaked out and the material merely separated into its constituent molecules.” * * * * * The utter impossibility of the situation was striking home. The evidences of a superior culture were unmistakable. These people were his.... “Aliens, Mr. Dalgreen--I suppose you could call us that. Yes. I can read your mind quite clearly. That is why you are here today. A thought receiver in Arthur Di Costa’s study informed us of your suspicions when you first walked in. We have been following you ever since, arranging your visit here. “I’ll tell you what I can, Mr. Dalgreen. We are not of Earth, in fact, we come from beyond your solar system. This office is, to be very frank, the outpatient ward of a sanitarium!” “Sanitarium!” Brent shouted. “This is the office only ... then where is the sanitarium?” The girl twirled her pencil slowly, her piercing stare seeming to penetrate his eyes--into his brain. “The entire Earth is our sanitarium. Mixed in with your population are a great number of our mentally ill.” The floor seemed to tilt under Brent’s feet. He clutched the edge of the desk. “Then Di Costa must be one of your outpatients. Is _he_ insane?” The girl spoke quietly. “Not insane in the strictest sense of the word. He is congenitally feeble-minded; his case is incurable.” Brent thought of the brilliant Di Costa as a moron, and the inference shook his mind. “That means that the average I.Q. of your race must be ...” “Beyond your powers of comprehension,” she said. “To your people Di Costa is normal, really far above average. “On his home planet he was not bright enough to take his place in that highly integrated society. He became a ward of the state. His body was altered to be an exact duplicate of homo sapiens. We gave him a new body and a new personality--but we could not change his basic intelligence. That is why he is here on Earth, a square peg in a square hole. “Di Costa spent his childhood on his home planet, living in an ‘alien’ environment. These first impressions drive deep into the subconscious, you know. His new personality has no awareness of them--but they are there, nonetheless. When he is painting, these same impressions by-pass his conscious mind and operate directly on his thalamus. It takes a keen eye to detect their effect on the final work. May I congratulate you, Mr. Dalgreen?” Brent smiled ruefully, “I’m a little sorry now that I did. What are your plans for me? I imagine they don’t include a return to my earthly ‘asylum’?”