"Yes sir," Tensor replied, using similar sound patterns. "Ruut ordered me to." "What in Oxy for?" "He did not like my attitude." The physician considered the information, and while he did so, Ruut popped into existence beside him, a most uncivilized look of worry on his face. "How is he, Curl? What have you found out?" "No need for excitement, my dear administrator," the physician replied evenly, politely avoiding comment on Ruut's crude, low caste self control. "I just got here. Thanks to your order to the young man to fill himself up with nego, he was unable to let me project a hyperimage." "But the situation was dangerous. Did you examine him? Did he tell you what he said to me?" Curl glanced at him, and then quickly sent probing thoughts at Tensor's mind and body. After a moment, he gave it up, shaking his head. "The nego won't let him communicate at all. I'll have to order him to administer an antidote to himself." "No!" Ruut almost shouted. "It's dangerous." He rapidly gave an oral and somewhat horrified account of his earlier communication with Tensor. "All right," the physician grudgingly admitted. "I'll try to do it superficially. But it's difficult. It's awfully hard to know what's going on in his body from just looking at it and listening to him talk." He turned to Tensor. "How long have you been having these--er, spurious moods?" "About six months." "Are you having any other troubles?" "No sir. It's just the simple things, like the weather, that seem to be affected." "I see. Melancholia." Curl frowned thoughtfully. "These moods come unwillingly, is that it? And they don't go away entirely when you shift your endocrine balance?" "I'm not so sure about that endocrine shift, sir," Tensor stated emotionlessly. "You mean--" Curl stopped incredulously. He shook his head as he comprehended. "Great Iso Oxys!" "What is it?" Ruut asked in a hushed voice. "This is deeper than I thought, Ruut. You did very well to put him under nego. The man can't control his endocrine system properly." "Well do something," Ruut demanded. "Don't just float there." "All I can do," Curl said, raising his voice exactly one decibel to show his irritation, "is give advice. Obviously, in his condition, the man can't follow it." Ruut gazed unhappily at his friend. He was in authority over Tensor, and therefore far inferior in native gifts. Now it seemed that Tensor was regressing in some obscure way to his own level, a tragic and uncivilized situation. "This has happened before," Curl admitted. "But I can't quite remember when." He sighed resignedly. "I guess I'll have to teleport again. Somebody probably remembers." He disappeared for a few minutes and returned again, face beaming despite the fatigue. "Oh yes," he said cheerfully. "Now I know." Tensor stared at him with uninterested eyes. "The man is dying," Curl explained with satisfaction.