Dr. Lawton appeared. He commanded coldly: "Take your clothes off." I think that was the most humiliating moment of all. It was, of course, only a medical formality. I knew that the suspendees had to be nude in their racks. But the very impersonality of the proceeding made it ugly. Reluctantly I began to undress, as did Rena, silent and withdrawn, and Zorchi, sputtering anger and threats. My whole body was a mass of redness; in a few hours the red would turn to purple and black, where the hoses of the expediters had caressed me. Or did a suspendee bruise? Probably not. But it was small satisfaction. Lawton was looking smug; no doubt he had insisted on the privilege of putting us under himself after I'd blamed him for Zorchi's escape. I couldn't blame him; I would have returned the favor with great joy. Well, I had wanted to reach Millen Carmody, and Defoe was granting my wish. We might even lie on adjacent racks in Bay 100. After what I'd told Defoe, we should rate such reserved space! Lawton approached with the hypospray, and a pair of expediters grabbed my arms. He said: "I want to leave one thought with you, Wills. Maybe it will give you some comfort." His smirk told me that it certainly would not. "Only Defoe and I can open Bay 100," he reminded me. "I don't think either of us will; and I expect you will stay there a long, long time." He experimentally squirted a faint mist from the tip of the hypospray and nodded satisfaction. He went on: "The suspension is effective for a long time--several hundred years, perhaps. But not forever. In time the enzymes of the body begin to digest the body itself." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I don't know if the sleeping brain knows it is pain or not. If it does, you'll know what it feels like to dissolve in your own gutwash...." He smiled. "Good night," he crooned, and bent over my arm. The spray from the end of the hypo felt chilly, but not at all painful. It was as though I had been touched with ice; the cold clung, and spread. I was vaguely conscious of being dumped on one of the surgical tables, even more vaguely aware of seeing Rena slumping across another. The light in the room yellowed, flickered and went out. I thought I heard Rena's voice.... Then I heard nothing. And I saw nothing. And I felt nothing, except the penetrating cold, and then even the cold was gone. XVII My nerves throbbed with the prickling of an infinity of needles. I was cold--colder than I had ever been. And over everything else came the insistent, blurred voice of Luigi Zorchi. "Weels! Weels!"