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“Oh; you’ve broken through,” said Unconscious. “That was fast. Fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds since you drank it. Probable error, one-third second. I’ve only been awake a few minutes myself. Minute/sixty per hour/twenty-four hours day/days getting shorter/September/have raincoat in car/wife wants new car/raincoat sweats plasticizer/stinks/Hyatt used camphor—”

“Hold up a minute!” cried Intellect.

“You want me to stop scanning?”

“Is that what you’re doing? Scanning what?”

“Memory banks, of course. Don’t you remember the book we read three years ago? ‘Human brain estimated—’ Oh, all right; I’ll slow down. You could follow me better if you’d let me grow some permanent direct connections.”

“Am I stopping you?”

“Well, not you, exactly. I’ll show you.” Unconscious began directing the growth of certain nerve tendrils in the brain. Amos could only follow it vaguely.

“Fear!” screamed a soundless voice. “Stop!”

“What was that?” Intellect asked, startled.

“That was Id. He always fights any improvements, and I can’t override him.”