Kane tried to explain it, calmly at first, then more emotionally. Either way, he knew that whatever he said was only additional grist to their syndrome recording mill. Being alone in order to do certain kinds of work demanding isolation seemed to be beside the point. The point was that being on the Moon deprived a man of Groups. It was a kind of psychological suicide. Now that he was back home they would straighten him out. The question of returning to the Moon was ignored. To them, this was an absurdity. What did Kane want? Kane was in no position to know what he really wanted--yet. They were going to help him decide what he really wanted. But they already knew that. It only remained for Kane to agree with them. The majority was always right. He explained his values to them. They listened. He told them that as far as he was concerned the social setup was now deadly, a kind of self-garrisoned mental concentration camp in which free thought was impossible. A stagnate, in fact a regressive state of affairs. Proficiency in skills would go, science would die. A herd state. Individuality lost. Depersonalized. Tyranny of the Majority. Integration mania. Collective thinking. Mass media. Lilliput against Leviathan.... But Kane wasn't happy, that was the important thing wasn't it? Could a knowledge of how rapidly the Universe was expanding contribute to the happiness of a human being living on Madison Avenue in Manhattan? Obviously the answer to that was no. Kane was going to be happy. He wouldn't concern himself with the stars any more. He wouldn't practice a self-imposed barren isolation of himself any more. Kane was going to be happy. He was going to be one of the Group. Time went by. He was given sedatives. He slept at last. He awoke and was tested and went to sleep again, many times. He was fed too, given injections with needles of energy and vitamins and proteins and glucose and carbohydrates, because he refused to eat any other way. Vaguely he remembered episodes of babbling under the influence of hypnotic drugs. He kept remembering the briefcase. In a dream the Group had it, throwing it around among them like a basketball. The clasp broke. The papers, thousands of papers spilled out and drifted away over New York and Kane was running through a maze looking up at them and then he was lost. Now he knew what had happened to the other Moon ships, and to the rest of the Captain's crew, where they had gone to and never come back from. Space was lonely and dark. Space was empty. Space was frightening. They had gone back to the closeness and warmth and security of their Group. How many were there left such as the Captain, and Kane--Kane for a while yet perhaps? How many were there? Could he escape? At some unrelated point on the Testing chart, the Staff closed up their briefcases, politely said good-bye, and left. The data would be run through more machines. Kane would be happy. All he had to do was wait.