Charles E. Fritch

“ But it was women like Miss Austin that made him want a chicken farm, among other things. Miss Austin and a little tract of land far out in the country would be just perfect. In such a paradise he wouldn't even have to worry about the pecking order of hens. In fact, he might even get engrossed in raising things other than chickens.
Sighing again, he studied the folder before him, which did not take very long. The patient was still quite young even though he had already made a mark of sorts on the world. ”

“ The psychiatrist breathed a sigh of relief. One of these days that chicken farm was going to be a reality. If this kept up....
He pressed a button on the intercom. "When's the next patient, Miss Austin?"
"Not until tomorrow, Dr. Rawlings," she cooed. "You have plenty of time for Mr. Moore yet."
"Plenty of time for—What are you talking about? He went through that door about a minute ago."
The receptionist was silent for a minute, then she said, "He couldn't have. No one's come out of your office. I've been here all the time." ”

“ The bottle was half filled with an amber fluid which jiggled pleasantly as he held it in an unsteady hand, observing with a practiced eye how gaily it sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. Then from the cavity he also extracted a small whiskey glass. ”

“ Well, this was certainly a new one. "You say the baby turned into a full-grown woman. Er—ah—clothed?"
Moore reddened and stared at the floor. "No," he said. "I was scared. And embarrassed. Here I am a bachelor, and there was a nude woman in my apartment. How could I explain that to the landlady? Anyway, I threw open the door again, but this time the hall was different. It was like it was before—on Earth, I mean, instead of on Mars."
"Very interesting," the psychiatrist said, mentally picturing the situation and temporarily forgetting chicken farms. ”

“ A theoretical mathematician, apparently. Probably thought himself a square circle on an adding machine. The psychiatrist browsed through the folder's contents again, then jabbed the buzzer.
"You can send Mr. Moore in now," he said and snapped the intercom off before Miss Austin could answer. The present moment was no time to be distracted. ”