"We're both going. Turn it to high." Her eyes mocked him. The pistol menaced.
Horning threw the switch.
"Now, reintegrate...."
A wave of utter helplessness, utter hopelessness, engulfed Horning. He pressed the button.
A room materialized about him—a room almost the twin of his own basement laboratory. There was the workbench, there the desk. A frame close akin to that of the light-loop rose against one wall.
A man sprawled on his back near the control panel. His face was Horning's face.
Horning bent over him and felt for some trace of pulse, then straightened, to find Myrtle once more standing beside him.
"He's dead," Horning said.
She nodded. Her lips twitched. "Take off your unit."
"My unit—?"