"David," said President Morgan, "a grateful people is waiting for your convalescence so that we can show you our appreciation." "Yes," said Jane. "Get well. We all have plans for you!" Dave tried to shake his head. "No, Jane. Doc'll tell you. Six months--" "You can't escape me that easily," said Jane. "While you're all neatly immobilized in that plaster cast, we are using their machine to separate out the widespread specks of fission products that were killing you. Just a matter of tuning critically so that it will send certain isotopes into the half-world instead of the whole human being. So by the time you get off your back, we'll have you healthy again and then, Dave Crandall, just you think up another excuse!" "Pick on a guy when he's down," grumbled Dave. He was laughing, then, but the room blurred through the tears in his eyes.