“Calling Commander Bjaal, all quacks in the Neuropsychiatorium in Neo Yorkus!” I snap. “I will sue when I get back to Earth for false incarceration in the violent ward. It is I, Septimus Spink who controls Earth in the palm of my hand. One word from me and New Mu knocks you loose from the solar system. Give all the school kids a three day holiday! Over and out!” “We are nearin’ New Mu,” Quantum says, and reduces speed. I look out the little port over the instrument panel and am the first Earthman to see the remote planet. It is shaped like a fifteen cent baseball that kids have used in three straight ball games and has a greenish-yellow nimbus around it. Quantum gives his crew orders in his native gabble and the saucer comes in and sits down on a saucer drome as if it weighed half as much as an ounce of goose feathers. “First,” Quantum says, “you will have to enter the chlorophlization chamber, Sep. You wouldn’t live two minutes with red blood as you are not part plant like we Muans. It won’t hurt a bit. We mix up the sun’s rays with extract from the vital plant, zyxotheum. Just follow me.” I am taken in a hurry to the place that is shaped like the dome on the capitol building in Washington, and medicos of New Mu grab me, peel off my Earthman’s Brooker Brothers suit, and sit me in a little metal bucketseat. They move things that look like sunlamps up close, then pull a master switch. Everything turns greenish-yellow and I tingle all over like an old maid finding a burglar in a closet. The little chamber hums like ten million bees at work. Quantum says that more than rays come out of the tricky lamps. Moisture comes also which is from the zyxotheum plant mixture, and is absorbed by my pores. “In other words, Sep,” he divulges, “you sweat in reverse.” “Is that good?” I choke out. “Your blood stream will absorb the chlorophyl,” my cousin many times removed says. At this moment I wished he had been removed before saucers were invented on New Mu. * * * * * A half hour later I am taken out of the chamber into another room where a New Muan interne pricks my finger with a needle. My hair stands on end and lepidoptera gambol in my alimentary canal. I bleed green. The little medical citizen nods approvingly at Quantum. “You are ready to set forth into the city of Yzocspink,” cousin says. “You will most likely get decorated along with me. New Mu’s highest military award is the Crow De Spink. Are you beginning to see, cousin?” “Yeah. A Spink got here all right back in 1918. Name of Cyril. Nicknamed Muley,” I gulped and see a big sign over a building shaped like a wedding cake and as easy to see through as a politician’s mullarkey or a Jovian nightie. It says: SPINK VAXOZTZ.