And dropped it.

The record lay on the thick carpet, apparently unbroken. But how to pick it up once more? How to drag it loose from the nape, the backdrop, surrounding it? Because the record no longer seemed separate; it had fused. With the carpet, the floor, the walls, and now everything in the office, it presented a single indivisible, unchangeable surface, without rupture. No one could come or go within this cubelike spaciality; every place was already filled, complete – nothing could change because everything was present already.

My God, Kathy thought as she stood gazing down at the record by her feet. I can't free myself; I'm going to remain here, and they'll find me like this and know something's terribly wrong. This is catalepsy!

She was still standing there when the office door opened and Jonas Ackerman, briskly, with a jovial expression on his smooth, youthful face, entered, strode up to her, saw the record, bent unhinderedly down and gently lifted it up and placed it in her outstretched hands.

'Jonas,' she said in a slow, thickened voice, 'I – need medical help. I'm sick.'

'Sick how?' He stared at her with concern, his face twisted up, wriggling, she thought, like nests of snakes. His emotion overpowered her; it was a sickening, fetid force. 'My God,' Jonas said, 'what a time you picked – Eric's not here today, he's in Cheyenne, and we haven't got the new man that's replacing him yet. But I could drive you to the Tijuana Government Clinic. What is it?' He gripped her arm, pinching her flesh. 'I think you're just blue because Eric's gone.'

Take me upstairs,' she managed to say. 'To Virgil.'

'Boy, you do sound awful,' Jonas said. 'Yes, I'll be glad to get you upstairs to the old man; maybe he'll know what to do.' He guided her toward the office door. 'Maybe I better take that record; you look like you're about to drop it again.'

It could not have taken more than two minutes to reach Virgil Ackerman's office and yet to her the ordeal consumed a vast interval. When she found herself facing Virgil at last she was exhausted; she panted for breath, unable to speak. It was just too goddam much for her.

Eyeing her curiously, and then with alarm, Virgil said in his thin, penetrating voice, 'Kathy, you better go home today; fix yourself up with an armful of woman type magazines and a drink, propped up in bed—'

'Leave me alone,' she heard herself say. 'Christ,' she said, then, in despair, 'don't leave me alone, Mr Ackerman; please!'

'Well, make up your mind,' Virgil said, still scrutinizing her. 'I can see that Eric's leaving here and going to Cheyenne to—'

'No,' she said. 'I'm okay.' Now it had worn off a little; she felt as if she had imbibed some strength from him, perhaps because he had so much. 'Here's a fine item for Wash-35.' She turned to Jonas for the record. 'It was one of the most popular tunes of the times. This and "The Music Goes Round and Round."' Taking the record, she placed it before him on his big desk. I'm not going to die, she thought; I'm going to get through this and recover my health. 'I'll tell you what else I have a line on, Mr Ackerman.' She seated herself in a chair by the desk, wanting to conserve what energy she had. 'A private recording which someone made, at the time, of Alexander Woollcott on his program, "The Town Crier." So the next time we're up at Wash-35 we'll be able to listen to Woollcott's actual voice. And not an imitation. As we're doing.'

'"The Town Crier"!' Virgil exclaimed in childish joy. 'My favorite program!'

'I'm reasonably sure I can get it,' Kathy said. 'Of course, until I actually pay over the money there could still be a hitch. I have to fly out to Boston to make the final arrangements; the recording is there, in the possession of a rather shrewd spinster-lady named Edith B. Scruggs. It was made on a Packard-Bell Phon-o-cord, she tells me in her correspondence.'

'Kathy,' Virgil Ackerman said, 'if you can actually turn up an authentic recording of the voice of Alexander Woollcott – I'm going to raise your salary, so help me God. Mrs Sweet-scent, sweetheart, I'm in love with you because of what you do for me. Was Woollcott's radio program over WMAL or WJSV? Research that for me, will you? Go through those '35 copies of the Washington Post – and by the way, that reminds me. That American Weekly with the article on the Sargasso Sea. I think we'll finally decide to exclude that from Wash-35 because when I was a boy my parents didn't take the Hearst papers; I only saw it when I—'

'Just a moment, Mr Ackerman,' Kathy said, raising her hand.

He cocked his head expectantly. 'Yes, Kathy?'

'What if I went to Cheyenne and joined Eric?'

'But—' Virgil bleated, gesturing. 'I need you!'

For a while,' she said. Maybe that will be enough, she thought. They might not demand any more. 'You let him go,' she said, 'and he keeps you alive; he's a lot more vital than I am.'

'But Molinari needs him. And he doesn't need you; he has no babyland he's building; he's not a bit interested in the past – he's full of gas about the future, like an adolescent.' Virgil looked stricken. 'I can't spare you, Kathy; losing Eric was bad enough but the deal in his case is that I can send for him any time I get into difficulty. I had to let him go; in fact I'm scared as hell without him. But not you.' His tone became plaintive. 'No, that's too much. Eric swore to me when we were at Wash-35 that you wouldn't want to go with him.' He shot a mute, appealing glance at Jonas. 'Make her stay, Jonas.'

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Jonas said to her, 'You don't love Eric, Kathy. I've talked to you and to him; you both tell me your domestic woes. You're as far apart from each other as it's possible to be and not commit an outright crime ... I don't get this.'

'I believed that,' she said, 'while he was here. But I kidded myself. Now I know better, and I'm sure he feels the same way.'

'Are you sure?' Jonas said acutely. 'Call him.' He indicated the vidphone on Virgil's desk. 'See what he says. Frankly I think you're better off separated, and I have no doubt Eric knows it.'

Kathy said, 'May I be excused to go? I want to get back down to my office.' She felt sick at her stomach and achingly frightened. Her damaged, drug-addicted body yearned for relief and in its thrashings it directed her actions; it was compelling her to follow Eric to Cheyenne. Despite what the Ackermans said. She could not stop, and even now in her confusion she could read the future; she could not escape the drug JJ-180 – the 'Starmen had been correct. She would have to go back to them, follow up on the card that Corning had given her. God, she thought, if only I could tell Virgil. I have to tell someone.

And then she thought, I'll tell Eric. He's a doctor; he'll be able to help me. I'll go to Cheyenne for that, not for them.

'Will you do me one favor?' Jonas Ackerman was saying to her. 'For heaven's sake, Kathy; listen.' Again he squeezed her arm.

'I'm listening,' she said with irritation. 'And let go.' She tugged her arm away, stepped back from him, feeling rage. 'Don't treat me like this; I can't stand it.' She glared at him.

Carefully, in a deliberately calm voice, Jonas said to her, 'We'll let you follow your husband to Cheyenne, Kathy, if you promise to wait twenty-four hours before you go.'

'Why?' She could not understand.

'So that this initial period of shock at the separation has a chance to wear off,' Jonas said. 'I'm hoping that in twenty-four hours you'll see your way clear to changing your mind. And meanwhile—' He glanced at Virgil; the old man nodded in agreement. 'I'll stay with you,' Jonas said to her. 'All day and night, if necessary.'

Appalled, she said, 'Like hell you will. I won't—'

'I know there's something wrong with you,' Jonas said quietly. 'It's obvious. I don't think you should be left alone. I'm making it my responsibility to see that nothing happens to you.' He added in a low voice, 'You're too valuable to us to do something terminal.' Again, and this time with harsh firmness, he took hold of her arm. 'Come on; let's go downstairs to your office – it'll do you good to get wrapped up in your work, and I'll just sit quietly, not interfering. After work tonight, I'll fly you up to L.A. to Spingler's for dinner; I know you like sea food.' He guided her toward the door of the office.