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girl leaned closer. "You were really—inside?"
Bailey thought about it. "I remember going into the cubicle. The attendant gave me a hypo and strapped me down. Then I passed out . . ." His eyes searched the girl's face. "Am I dreaming this?"
She shook her head without impatience. "I found you in the serviceway behind the center. I brought you here."
"But—" Bailey croaked, "I'm supposed to be dead!"
"How did you get outside?" the girl asked.
For an instant, a ghostly memory brushed Bailey's mind: cold, and darkness, and a bodiless voice that spoke from emptiness . . . "I don't know. I was there . . . and now I'm here."
"Are you sorry?"
Bailey started to answer quickly, then paused. "No," he said, wonderingly. "I'm not."
"Then sleep," B