Hope leaped within him. Maybe the Cyberene would make some mistake that would arouse suspicions in her. The hope died as the door to the hall opened again and Nadine came in. "You promised to take me to lunch, Earl," she said. "Ready," Earl heard himself say. It was evident that the Cyberene didn't intend him to be alone with any of the others long enough for the possibility of something suspicious to arise. They went to a small cafe several blocks from the lab building. For the benefit of anyone happening to be looking at them, they carried on small talk while they ate. Earl found himself hanging onto every word Nadine uttered, watching her every expression. He was so close to her, yet so far away. It was like standing outside a window and watching her while she seemed unaware of him. He kept watching for the faintest flicker of expression that would show the real Nadine. Slowly, without quite realizing it, he began to pretend it _was_ Nadine. He listened to her small talk. He listened to his, and at times forgot it wasn't actually his and that he couldn't control one word of what he said. He became happy. He let himself be aware of the flavor of the food. He laughed within himself when his vocal cords laughed. He reached out and touched Nadine's hand, thrilling to the feel of her soft skin. She drew her hand back, a startled light in her eyes. It was gone the next instant. Once more she was impersonal, _controlled_. The dull, throbbing pain flared to torturing intensity within him, blurring thought, _punishing_ him, forcing him behind his prison walls of gray mental fog. But through the pain, apart from it, he experienced a surge of hope. It had been _he_ who had reached out to Nadine. Not the Cyberene controlling him! Was there still hope? At two o'clock Nadine would pick up his lab report sheets and turn them over to Glassman. Then the identity of the ideal nerve fluid would be known. It would be out of his hands even if he were in full control of his faculties. He and Nadine rose. They were going back to the lab building. He raged against the hidden mental barriers that contained him. He fought frenziedly to influence some slight movement of his body. He might as well have been a passenger on an ocean liner trying to change the course of the thousands of tons of steel by thought alone while standing at the rail. His sphere of awareness grew clouded. He was raging against a mental wall that became almost tangible. He stopped fighting from sheer impotence--and the barrier retreated. _The more I fight the more helpless I am._ That thought at once created its corollary. _The less I struggle the closer I am to control!_ That was it! He had so identified his desires with the actions of his body that for one instant he _meshed_ with it!