It was some hours later that he realized he couldn’t answer that one for himself--because it wasn’t really his idea to start with. It was something Doug had said, in that bad month, the last month, before he went.... Okay, he thought grimly, _let’s see how long it takes for them to dig_ that _out_.... By that time, it was a game with him, a bitter game, to see how much he could throw the psychers off without actually telling a lie they could spot. _Mexcity--March, 1976_ Phil Kutler would never have gotten a crack at the Wendt case, except that none of the big men in the field had gotten anywhere, and that Johnny and Phil happened to have gone to school together. And when they examined the tapes that carried a record of every word Johnny Wendt had spoken in his luxury-prison, they realized that the most revealing thing anybody had gotten out of him--if only they knew what it revealed--was his bitter little speech to Pete Christensen. So they asked Kutler to come from New York, and sent him up, not quite sure himself whether he was there as friend or doctor. Johnny greeted him suspiciously. They ordered some beer, and yakked for a while about things they’d done and places they’d been since they saw each other five-six years before. Mostly Phil’s places and people and things; Johnny found he could damn near enjoy himself when someone else did the talking. Finally Phil said, “Look, I’m a doctor. You know why I’m here. I got a big pep talk downstairs about all the stuff I’m supposed to find out for the sake of Progress and the Human Race, and a pile of high-minded stuff like that.... “Don’t get me wrong, man. I’ve got nothing against noble abstractions. I’m all for the human race, and I guess progress is real peachy too. But like I said, I’m a doctor. We all get our kicks different ways, and I get mine curing sick people. And man, you’re sick. Maybe I’m not supposed to come out and tell you like that, but it’s sticking out all over....” “Sure, sure,” Johnny said quickly. “How do you want to do it? Sometimes they want me to lie down. Sometimes I’m supposed to shut my eyes. One guy brought up a little tank of CO₂, and there was one with some vitamin guk, and they tried scop, or something like it, a couple of times and--” “Okay, chum.” Phil stood up and stuck out his hand. “I’ll tell ’em it looks promising and maybe they’ll let me come and see you again some time.” “Not on your life,” Johnny said. “They’ve got every word of this down on their magic spy rays.” “Oh?” Kutler looked around the room curiously, then with visible irritation, and finally with explosive fury: “The stupid brassbound idiots! What in God’s name are they trying to do to you? Take a guy with the most obvious case of exposure fears any half-assed medic ever diagnosed, and sit him in a great big glass house with the whole world looking in....” He broke off abruptly. “Well, they got _me_ on record now, too,” he said quietly.