He grinned. It was still the wry smile of Max, though fitting strangely on the handsome new blond face. "Then it isn't so bad. It might even be pretty good. I envied him this big, muscular body. If Pat or any of these Meads so much as looks at you, I'm going to knock his block off. Understand?" * * * * * She laughed and couldn't stop. It wasn't that funny. But it was still Max, trying to be unafraid, drawing on humor. Maybe the rest of the men would also be their old selves, enough so the women would not feel that their men were strangers. Behind her, male voices spoke characteristically. She did not have to turn to know which was which: "This is one way to keep a guy from stealing your girl," that was Len Marlow; "I've got to write down all my reactions," Hal Barton; "Now I can really work that hillside vein of metal," St. Clair. Then others complaining, swearing, laughing bitterly at the trick that had been played on them and their flirting, tempted women. She knew who they were. Their women would know them apart, too. "We'll go outside," Max said. "You and I. Maybe the shock won't be so bad to the women after they see me." He paused. "You didn't tell them, did you?" "I couldn't. I wasn't sure. I--was hoping I was wrong." She opened the door and closed it quickly. There was a small crowd on the other side. "Hello, Pat," Elsie said uncertainly, trying to look past them into the tank room before the door shut. "I'm not Pat, I'm Max," said the tall man with the blue eyes and the fuzz-reddened skull. "Listen--" "Good heavens, Pat, what happened to your hair?" Shelia asked. "I'm Max," insisted the man with the handsome face and the sharp blue eyes. "Don't you get it? I'm Max Stark. The melting sickness is Mead cells. We caught them from Pat. They adapted us to Minos. They also changed us all into Pat Mead." The women stared at him, at each other. They shook their heads. "They don't understand," June said. "I couldn't have if I hadn't seen it happening, Max." "It's Pat," said Shelia, dazedly stubborn. "He shaved off his hair. It's some kind of joke." Max shook her shoulders, glaring down at her face. "I'm Max. Max Stark. They all look like me. Do you hear? It's funny, but it's not a joke. Laugh for us, for God's sake!" "It's too much," said June. "They'll have to see." She opened the door and let them in. They hurried past her to the tanks, looking at forty-six identical blond faces, beginning to call in frightened voices: "Jerry!" "Harry!" "Lee, where are you, sweetheart--" June shut the door on the voices that were growing hysterical, the women terrified and helpless, the men shouting to let the women know who they were. "It isn't easy," said Max, looking down at his own thick muscles. "But you aren't changed and the other girls aren't. That helps." Through the muffled noise and hysteria, a bell was ringing. "It's the airlock," June said.