"I ... I'm not sure." The voices from nowhere continued. "You have a family. You hate that family." A faint, drifting haze of memories. Of a woman who had cooked his meals and tucked him into bed at night when he was very young. Of somebody named Larry who had once bailed him out of a street fight by making like Bob Feller with some good-sized rocks.... But what was bed? What was street-fights? What was Bob Feller? "I ... guess so." The room exploded in blinding light that seared his eyes and lanced his brain. "Are you sure?" "_Oh yes! Oh God, yes!_" The agony was over and once again the room was mercifully black. "You hate the cities." The cities. The decaying houses and the rotting tenements. The stinking alleys and the littered parks and the filthy buildings. And the lawns and the happy kids and the beaches.... He didn't answer. Somewhere within his mind a wheel started to spin. Slow. Then faster and faster until he was sweating and shaking with nausea and then it felt like he was flying apart into small fragments that tore and buffeted each other and pained.... _Of course he hated the cities._ For a moment, peace. "The apes. You hate the apes. You hate the human race." The human race. _His_ race. The pieces that were Stanley Martin started to flow together, to coalesce once more into a single individual.... And then his nerve endings and ganglions felt sharp, searing pain. Pain that threaded along his nerves and burned into every segment of his body, pain that threatened to fry his cortical centers. Pain that scattered the particles of personality that were Stanley Martin and shriveled them to nothingness. Pain that obliterated the last traces of conscience and memory. "You hate the human race," a voice repeated smoothly. "Yes," Stan said, not hesitating. "I hate the human race." And then he started to sweat and shake with an unreasoning anger that flooded him as suddenly as if somebody had turned on a hose. The pain.... The pain for which the apes were responsible. "_I hate the apes! I hate their goddamned guts!_" A silent wave of exultation swept the compartment. They had fashioned the mold and had made their monster.... Five minutes later, the space ship departed for its home system. "I hate the human race." And.... CHAPTER V He was 24 years old. A tall, unsmiling, handsome man dressed in a blue serge suit and a hat that he liked to pull down over his eyes so he could look at the world as if it were in a frame. He wasn't the type who made friends and there was a subtle air of menace about him that frightened the people with whom he came in contact. He was a stranger who looked at the world with cold and calculating eyes, like a scientist might look at a piece of lab apparatus. Women were intrigued by him, made their approaches, and hastily left--a little insulted and far more frightened. Apes.