The difference between Martin's condition and that of the ordinary schizophrenic was that _his_ little world actually existed. It was an almost exact counterpart of the world that existed in the perfectly sane, rational mind of his brother, Bart. It grew and developed as Bart did, fed by the telepathic flow from the stronger mind to the weaker. There were two Barts, and no Mart at all. And then the Neurophysical Institute had come into the picture. A new process had been developed, by which a human being could be reconstructed--made, literally, into a superman. The drawback was that a normal human body resisted the process--to the death, if necessary, just as a normal human body will resist a skin graft from an alien donor. But the radiation-damaged body of Martin Stanton had no resistance of that kind. With him--perhaps--the process might work. So Bartholomew Stanton, Martin's legal guardian after the death of their mother, had given permission for the series of operations that would rebuild his brother. The telepathic link, of course, had to be shut off--for a time, at least. Part of that could be done in the treatment of Martin, but Bart, too, had to do his part. By submitting to hypnosis, he had allowed himself to be convinced that his name was Stanley Martin. He had taken a job on Luna, and then had gone to the asteriods. The simple change of name and environment had been just enough to snap the link during a time when Martin's brain had been inactivated by therapy and anesthetics. Only the sense of identity remained. The patient was still Bart. Mannheim had used them both, naturally. Colonel Mannheim had the ability to use anyone at hand, including himself, to get a job done. Stanton looked at his watch. It was almost time. Mannheim had sent for "Stanley Martin" when the time had come for him to return in order to give the Nipe data that he would be sure to misinterpret. A special code phrase in the message had released "Stanley Martin" from the posthypnotic suggestion that had held him for so long. He knew that he was Bartholomew Stanton again. _And so do I,_ thought the man by the window. _We have a lot to straighten out, we two._ There was a knock at the door. Stanton walked over and opened it, trying to think. It was like looking into a mirror. "Hello, Bart," he said. "Hello, Bart," said the other. In that instant, the complete telepathic linkage was restored, and they both knew what only one of them had known before--that, for a time, the flow had been one-way again--that "Stanley Martin" had experienced the entire battle with the Nipe. His release from the posthypnotic suggestion had made it possible. _E duobus unum._ There was unity without loss of identity. * * * * * End of Project Gutenberg's Anything You Can Do, by Gordon Randall Garrett