Vulcan returned to his own chair and climbed onto it. "Now let us get to business." "Business?" Forrester said. "Oh, yes," Vulcan said. "I imagine you were pretty well bewildered for a while. No more than natural. But I think you've figured it out by now. You know you are going to be given the powers of a demi-God, don't you?" "Yes. But--" "Do not worry about it," Vulcan said. "The powers are--simply powers. They are not burdens. At any rate, they will not be burdensome to you. We know that--we have researched you to a fine point, as you may have gathered from the fol-de-rol back there." He gestured toward his right, evidently indicating the Court of the Gods. "But," Forrester said, "suppose I'm not what your tests say. I mean, suppose I--" "There is no need for supposition. Beyond any shadow of doubt, we know how you, as a mortal, will react to any conceivable set of circumstances." "Oh," Forrester said. "But--" "Precisely. You have realized what yet needs to be done. We know what your abilities and limitations are--_as a mortal_. The tests you have yet to pass are concerned with your actions and reactions as a demi-God." Forrester swallowed hard. He felt as if he were on a moving roller-coaster. No matter how badly he wanted to get off, it was impossible to do so. He had to remain while the car hurtled on. And where was he going? The Gods, he told himself with more than ordinary meaning, knew. "The power which is to be infused into you," Vulcan said, "if you don't mind the loose terminology--" "I don't mind in the least," Forrester assured him earnestly. "Not in the least." "The power infused into you will make some changes. These will not only be physical changes. Mental changes must be expected." "Oh," Forrester said. "Mental changes." "Correct. Physically, you see, you will become what no mortal can ever quite be: a perfectly functioning biological engine. Every sinew, nerve and muscle, every organ and gland, every tissue in your body will be in perfect harmonic balance with every other. Metabolically speaking, your catabolism and anabolism will be in such perfect balance that aging will not be possible." Forrester thought that over. "I'll be immortal," he said. "In that sense of the word," Vulcan said, "you will. You will be, as a matter of fact, quite a good deal tougher, stronger and harder than any animal now existing on the face of the Earth. I must except, of course, a few of the really big ones, like the elephant and the killer whale." "Oh," Forrester said. "Sure." "But make no mistake. You can still be killed. A bullet through the heart will not do the job; it will merely incapacitate you for a few hours. But if you were to have your head blown off by a grenade, you would be quite dead. Remember that." "I don't see how I could forget it."