First step was to get hold of Zan Blekeke again and have him tell me his life history. I shuddered at the prospect, but it had to be done. "We're going to East Emerson beach," I told John Maxwell. On the way, aboard a third-level bus, I asked him, "SRI ever been investigated by you people?" "Damn if I know. Why?" "Never mind. Save me a lot of trouble, maybe, if it had. Just a thought." We found the SRI cultists at their usual place on the beach. It was a stretch on the far south end, a rough, gravelly portion quite a bit beyond the army of regular bathers. As we approached, threading our way through the maze of umbrellas, tablecloths and people, people, people in practically all stages of nudity, I noticed that a makeshift rope fence enclosed the little group of SRIs where they were sprawled out doing their relaxing exercises. That was something new--the fence, I mean. I started to crawl through the ropes, and one of the nearby recliners jumped to his feet, stood in front of me and made pushing motions with his hands. "I'm sorry, sirs, but this is a meeting of The Suns-Rays Incorporated religious group. You are requested not to enter." Now, he knew better than to say a silly thing like that to me. His name was Monte Bingham, and he knew damn well who I was, and I told him so. "I'm practically an ex-officio member in good standing myself," I said. "Wake up, you goof." Monte Bingham turned slowly around and looked toward the big Martian, Zan Blekeke, who was sitting up with his spindly legs outstretched near the center of the enclosure. Blekeke got to his feet and waddled toward us, waving Bingham aside. He was not smiling. He stood glaring at us. "Whose?" he said with a swift, half-gesture toward Maxwell. "Whose?" I repeated. "He's mine. I mean, he's my brother-in-law, John Maxwell, come to visit me from Sacramento. He's okay. What's going on? I just wanted to make an appointment to talk with you." Blekeke heaved his big round bare chest. "Trying still disciple in," he replied. "How's that? Discipline, you mean?" "Yups. Laters out. Strangers out. No excepting. Can't." "Yeah, but you know me, and John here--" "Brother law oaks, but both laters. See hall hour halfish. Talk then. Treatment, yups?" I said, "Well, I guess that'll be okay. Hour and a half, at the hall, huh?" Blekeke said, "Yups," and turned away. * * * * * He took two steps and stopped. I saw his spine stiffen. His head turned slowly toward the water's edge where two dogs were running circles around each other, not far from the enclosure. As the dogs moved, Blekeke's head moved with them, back and forth and back again....