Uncle Steve was right about the folks giving in; Pat left for the training course three weeks later.

I still don't know just how it was that Pat got to be the one. We never matched for it, we never had a knock-down argument, and I never agreed. But Pat went.

I tried to settle it with him several times but he always put me off, telling me not to worry and to wait and see how things worked out. Presently I found it taken for granted that Pat was going and I was staying. Maybe I should have made a stand the day we signed the contract, when Pat hung back and let me sign first, thereby getting me down on paper as the party of the second part who stayed home, instead of party of the third part who went. But it had not seemed worth making a row about, as the two were interchangeable by agreement among the three parties to the contact. Pat pointed this out to me just before we signed; the important thing was to get the contract signed while our parents were holding still—get their signatures.

Was Pat trying to put one over on me right then? If so, I didn't catch him wording his thoughts. Contrariwise, would I have tried the same thing on him if I had thought of it? 1 don't know, I just don't know. In any case, I gradually became aware that the matter was settled; the family took it for' granted and so did the LRF people. So I told Pat it was not settled. He just shrugged and reminded me that it had not been his doing. Maybe I could get them to change their minds... if I didn't care whether or not I upset the applecart.

I didn't want to do that. We did not know that the LRF would have got down on its knees and wept rather than let any young and healthy telepath pair get away from them; we thought they had plenty to choose from. I thought that if I made a fuss they might tear up the contract, which they could do up till D-Day by paying a small penalty.

Instead I got Dad alone and talked to him. This shows how desperate I was; neither Pat nor I ever went alone to our parents about the other one. I didn't feel easy about it, but stammered and stuttered and had trouble making Dad understand why I felt swindled.

Dad looked troubled and said, "Tom, I thought you and your brother had settled this between you?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you! We didn't."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Why, I want you to make him be fair about it. We ought to match for it, or something. Or you could do it for us and keep it fair and square. Would you?"

Dad gave attention to his pipe the way he does when he is stalling. At last he said, "Tom, I don't see how you can back out now, after everything is settled. Unless you want me to break the contract? It wouldn't be easy but I can."

"But I don't have to break the contract. I just want an even chance. If I lose, I'll shut up. If I win, it won't change anything—except that I would go and Pat would stay."

"Mmm..." Dad puffed on his pipe and looked thoughtful. "Tom, have you looked at your mother lately?"

I had, but I hadn't talked with her much. She was moving around like a zombie, looking grief-stricken and hurt. "Why?"

"I can't do this to her. She's already going through the agony of losing your brother; I can't put her through it on your account, too. She couldn't stand it."

I knew she was feeling bad, but I could not see what difference it would make if we swapped. "You're not suggesting that Mum wants it this way? That she would rather have Pat go than me?"

"I am not. Your mother loves you both, equally,"

"Then it would be just the same to her."

"It would not. She's undergoing the grief of losing one of her sons. If you swapped now, she would have to go through it afresh for her other son. That wouldn't be fair." He knocked his pipe against an ash tray, which was the same as gaveling that the meeting was adjourned. "No, son, I'm afraid that you will just have to stand by your agreement."

It was hopeless so I shut up. With Dad, bringing Mum's welfare into it was the same as trumping an ace.

Pat left for the training center four days later. I didn't see much of him except the hours we spent down at the TransLunar Building for he was dating Maudie every night and I was not included. He pointed out that this was the last he would see of her whereas I would have plenty of time—so get lost, please. I did not argue; it was not only fair, taken by itself, but I did not want to go along on their dates under the circumstances. Pat and I were farther apart those last few days than we had ever been.

It did not affect our telepathic ability, however, whatever this "tuning" was that some minds could do went right on and we could do it as easily as we could talk... and turn it off as easily, too. We didn't have to "concentrate" or "clear our minds" or any of that Eastern mysticism nonsense. When we wanted to "talk," we talked.

When Pat left I felt lost. Sure, I was in touch with him four hours a day and any other time I cared to call him, but you can't live your whole life doing things by two's without getting out of joint when you have to do things by one's. I didn't have new habits yet. I'd get ready to go someplace, then I would stop at the door and wonder what I had forgotten. Just Pat. It is mighty lonesome to start off somewhere by yourself when you've always done it with someone.

Besides that, Mum was being brightly cheerful and tender and downright unbearable, and my sleep was all broken up. The training center worked on Switzerland's time zone which meant that I, and all other twins who were staying behind no matter where on. Earth they were, worked our practice messages on Swiss time, too. Pat would whistle in my ears and wake me at two in the morning each night and then I would work until dawn and try to catch up on sleep in the daytime.

It was inconvenient but necessary and I was well paid. For the first time in my life I had plenty of money. So did all of our family, for I started paying a fat board bill despite Dad's objections. I even bought myself a watch (Pat had taken ours with him) without worrying about the price, and we were talking about moving into a bigger place.

But the LRF was crowding more and more into my life and I began to realize that the contract covered more than just recording messages from my twin. The geriatrics program started at once. "Geriatrics" is a funny term to use about a person not old enough to vote but it had the special meaning here of making me live as long as possible by starting on me at once. What I ate was no longer my business; I had to follow the diet they ordered, no more sandwiches picked up casually. There was a long list of "special hazard" things I must not do. They gave me shots for everything from housemaid's knee to parrot fever and I had a physical examination so thorough as to make every other one seem like a mere laying on of hands.

The only consolation was that Pat told me they were doing. the same to him. We might be common as mud most ways but we were irreplaceable communication equipment to LRF, so we got the treatment a prize race horse or a prime minister gets and which common people hardly ever get. It was a nuisance.

I did not call Maudie the first week or ten days after Pat left; I didn't feel easy about her. Finally she called me and asked if I were angry with her or was she in quarantine? So we made a date for that night. It was not festive. She called me "Pat" a couple of times, which she used to do every now and then and it had never mattered, since Pat and I were used to people mixing up our names. But now it was awkward, because Pat's ghost was a skeleton at the feast.

The second time she did it I said angrily, "If you want to talk to Pat, I can get in touch with him in half a second!"