"I'm Kellner. You must be Stein, right? Never mind your coats. Just follow me," and off he trotted, and we trailed him into a bare office with what looked like the equipment of a spendthrift dentist. "You sit here," and he waved at a straightbacked chair. I sat down, Stein shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and in a moment Kellner came back with a dozen others. He didn't bother to introduce any of them. They all stood off and gaped at who'd killed Cock Robin. Kellner broke the silence. "Physical first?" There was a general nod. "Physical, psychological, then--we'll come to that later." To Stein: "Want to come along? Rather wait here? This is going to take some time, you know." Stein knew that. He also wanted to come along. Those were his orders. I felt self-conscious taking off my clothes in front of that ghoulish crew. The sheet they left me kept off no drafts, and I felt like a corpse ready for the embalmer, and likely appeared one. Stethoscope, a scale for my weight, a tape for my arm and the blood pressure, lights that blinked in my eyes and bells that rang in my ear ... when they were finished with me I felt like a used Tinker-Toy. "Do I pass? Will I live?" Kellner didn't like juvenile humor. He turned me over to another group who, so help me, brought out a box of children's blocks to put together, timing me with a stopwatch. They used the same stopwatch to time how long it took me to come up with answers to some of the silliest questions I ever heard outside of a nursery. Now I know why they label well the patients in an insane asylum. The man with the watch galloped off and came back with Kellner and they all stood around muttering. The sheet and I were sticking to the chair. "Kellner. Doctor Kellner!" They didn't like me to break up the kaffeeklatch. "Can I go now? Are you all through?" "All through?" The airedale changed to a cackling Rhode Island Red. "Joseph, you are just beginning." "My name isn't Joseph, Dr. Kellner. It's Miller. Peter Ambrose Miller." "Excuse me, Peter," and he cackled again. "Nevertheless, you're going to be here quite awhile." Peter, hey? No more, Mr. Miller. Pete to my wife, Peter to my mother, and Peter to every school teacher I ever had. * * * * * They conferred awhile longer and the party broke up. Kellner and a gawkish Great Dane led me sheet and all to what I thought would be the operating room. It looked like one. I found a chair all by myself this time, and watched them hook up an electric fan. They were hipped on fans, I thought. Kellner trotted over. "Stop that fan." Not, please stop that fan. Just, stop that fan. I shivered ostentatiously. "I'm cold." Kellner was annoyed. "Perfectly comfortable in here." Sure, you old goat, you got your pants on. "Come, let's not delay. Stop the fan." I told him I was still cold, and I looked at the fan. It threw sparks, and the long cord smoked. I was going to fix those boys.