"Didn't who tell me you were coming?" "The Organization. I'm their head psychologist." "I should have known." "You sound annoyed." "I'm afraid I don't want to join the Organization. Ever." Dr. Cooper lit his pipe. "I think you should," he said. "It would relieve you of your insecurities. You obviously need to belong to something." "Why?" "It is a natural need in all human organisms. A man by himself is incomplete and unsatisfied. He has no outlet for his energies and his talents." "I have very little energy and no talent." "You're being modest. I understand you have a great deal of both." Cooper looked around the apartment. "Don't you _want_ to belong, Mr. Westing?" "No." "Don't you belong to anything?" "No." "You're sure? You were a political canvasser in the last election, weren't you?" "Yes, but that was different." "Didn't it give you a sense of belonging?" "Yes, but I didn't like it. I felt trapped." "Then why did you do it?" "I'm a citizen. I like to keep my accounts even." "Then you didn't really belong?" the doctor said. "Not the way you mean." "This is very interesting. You honestly think you can live without belonging to anything?" "Yes." "Don't you belong to the human race?" "Yes, and I try to keep my dues up, too. But it's more of a strain than a pleasure." Dr. Cooper puffed on his pipe. "I can see you're going to be a real challenge," he said. "Thank you. I intend to be." "I've got some literature outside. I think you should read it." "You can leave it if you like." "I will." A few more puffs. The psychologist looked extremely serene. "You know, you're a very sick man." "So I've been told." "Why don't you let me cure you?" "First you have to convince me I'm sick." "That's true." They talked aimlessly for another half-hour. Cooper left, and Westing looked over the literature. * * * * * He started to throw it away. Then his conscience twinged. If he was going to fight this thing, he was going to fight it honestly. He would meet their techniques of persuasion, not evade them. He sat down and read all the pamphlets. _The Need to Belong._ _The Sense of Unity._ Testimonials from members of the Organization who had found salvation in its ranks. It was all very well done and rather weakening to a man with a hangover. He sat for a long time in his apartment, brooding over it. Then he got up and threw all the literature in the trash. "They'll have to do better than that," he said. The next evening, when he got back from work, he found a package in his mail. It was a long-play, high-fidelity Calypso record. The notice said it was a Get-Acquainted Gift from the Jamaican Record Society. After supper he put the record on. When it had been playing for a while he got up and, as he often did, began to improvise dance steps to the music. It was great fun and the record was half over before he noticed the words had been subtly changing.