Charles V. De Vet

“ Nearly two hundred years ago, when Earth established a colony on St. Martin’s, the land surface of the planet had been barren. Only its seas thrived with animal and vegetable life. The necessary machinery and technicians had been supplied by Earth, and the long struggle began to fit the world for human needs. When Zarwell arrived, six months before, the vitalized area already extended three hundred miles along the coast, and sixty miles inland. And every day the progress continued. A large percentage of the energy and resources of the world were devoted to that essential expansion. ”

“ Zarwell’s tone appealed to Bergstrom for understanding. “I have only a normal man’s indignation at injustice. And now I’ve done my share. Yet, wherever I go, the word eventually gets out, and I’m right back in a fight again. ”

“ He achieved no understanding, but the strangeness did not leave as he sat up.
He gazed about him. The room did not seem to be his own. The furnishings, and the clothing he observed in a closet, might have belonged to a stranger. ”

“ Bergstrom continued talking, with practiced urbanity. “When psychiatry was a less exact science,” his voice went on, seeming to come from a great distance, “a doctor had to spend weeks, sometimes months or years interviewing a patient. If he was skilled enough, he could sort the relevancies from the vast amount of chaff. We are able now, with the help of the serum, to confine our discourses to matters cogent to the patient’s trouble.”
The floor continued its transmutation, and Zarwell sank deep into viscous depths. “Lie back and relax. Don’t ...” ”

“ But why would you deliberately give yourself amnesia?”
“What better disguise than to believe the part you’re playing?”
“A good man must have done that job on your mind,” Bergstrom commented. “I’d have hesitated to try it myself. It must have taken a lot of trust on your part.”
[p146]
“Trust and money,” Zarwell said drily.
“Your memory’s back then?”
Zarwell nodded.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Bergstrom assured him. “Now that you’re well again I’d like to introduce you to a man named Vernon Johnson. This world ...” ”

“ He rose. “That disguise and memory planting were supposed to get me out of it. I should have known it wouldn’t work. But this time I’m not going to be drawn back in! You and your Vernon Johnson can do your own revolting. I’m through!”
Bergstrom did not argue as he left.
RESTLESSNESS drove Zarwell from his flat the next day—a legal holiday on St. Martin’s. At a railed-off lot he stopped and loitered in the shadow of an adjacent building watching workmen drilling an excavation for a new structure.
When a man strolled to his side and stood watching the workmen, he was not surprised. ”

“ Bergstrom shrugged, dismissing his strayed thoughts. “I expected as much. A quite normal first phase of treatment.” He straightened a paper on his desk. “I think that will be enough for today. Twice in one sitting is about all we ever try. Otherwise some particular episode might cause undue mental stress, and set up a block.” He glanced down at his appointment pad. “Tomorrow at two, then?”
Zarwell grunted acknowledgment and pushed himself to his feet, apparently unaware that his shirt clung damply to his body.
THE sun was still high when Zarwell left the analyst’s office. ”

“ We haven’t had an election now in the last twenty-three years. St. Martin’s is beginning to prosper. Yet the only ones receiving the benefits are the rulers. The citizens work twelve hours a day. They are poorly housed, poorly fed, poorly clothed. They ...”
Zarwell found himself not listening as Johnson’s voice went on. The story was always the same. But why did they always try to drag him into their troubles?
Why hadn’t he chosen some other world on which to hide? ”

“ That’s true. The recall episodes are always purely random, with no chronological sequence. Our problem will be to reassemble them in proper order later. Or some particular scene may trigger a complete memory return.
“It is my considered opinion,” Bergstrom went on, “that your lost memory will turn out to be no ordinary amnesia. I believe we will find that your mind has been tampered with.” ”

“ Back at the locker he replaced the briefcase and, with a wad of gum, glued the key to the bottom of the locker frame.
One step more. Taking the syringe from his pocket, he plunged the needle into his forearm and tossed the instrument down a waste chute. He took three more steps and paused uncertainly.
When he looked about him it was with the expression of a man waking from a vivid dream.
“QUITE ingenious,” Graves murmured admiringly. “You had your mind already preconditioned for the shot. ”