Farnsworth waved a hand. "No, no. Later. Take your time. But I am honestly amazed that you won so easily. I knew you were good, and I knew you'd win, but I honestly expected you to be injured." Stanton looked down at his bandaged hands, and felt the ache of his broken rib and the blue bruise on his thigh. In spite of the way it looked, he had actually been hurt worse than the Nipe had. That boy was _tough_! "The trouble was that he couldn't adapt himself to fighting in a new way," he told Farnsworth. "He fought me as he would have fought another Nipe, and that didn't work. I had the reach on him, and I could maneuver faster." "It looked to me as though you were fighting him as you would fight another human being," Farnsworth said. Stanton grinned. "I was, in a modified way. But _I_ won--the Nipe didn't." Farnsworth grinned back. "I see. Well, I'll let you know when I'm ready for your impressions. Probably tomorrow some time." "Fine." * * * * * He walked back over to the window, but this time he looked at the horizon, not at the street. Farnsworth had called him "Bart". It's funny, Stanton thought, how habit can get the best of a man. Farnsworth had known the truth all along, and now he knew that his patient--_former_ patient--was aware of the truth. And still, he had called him "Bart". _And I still think of myself as Bart,_ he thought. _I probably always will._ And why not? Martin Stanton no longer existed--in fact he had never had much of a real existence. He was only a bad dream; only "Bart" was real. Take two people, genetically identical. Damage one of them so badly that he is helpless and useless--and always only a step away from death. It is inevitable that the weaker will identify himself with the stronger. The vague telepathic bond that always links identical twins (they "think alike", they say) becomes unbalanced under such conditions. Normally, there is a give-and-take, and each preserves the sense of his own identity, since the two different sets of sense receptors give different viewpoints. But if one of the twins is damaged badly enough something must happen to the telepathic link. Usually, it is broken. But the link between Mart and Bart Stanton had not been broken. It had become a one-way channel. Martin, in order to escape the prison of his own body, had become a receptor for Bart's thoughts. He felt as Bart felt--the thrill of running after a baseball, the pride of doing something clever with his hands. In effect, Martin ceased to think. The thoughts in his mind were Bart's. The feeling of identity was almost complete. To an outside observer, it appeared that Martin had become a cataleptic schizophrenic, completely cut off from reality. The "Bart" part of him did not want to be disturbed by the sensory impressions that "Mart's" body provided. Like the schizophrenic, Martin was living in a little world that was cut off from the actual physical world around his body.