"Is this a part of the Earth life process?" he asked incredulously. Gingerly, he touched the swollen and lacerated leg.
Cassal nodded wearily. "A matter of life and death," he croaked.
"If it is, then it is," said the doctor, shaking his head. "I, for one, am glad to be a Godolphian."
"To each his own habitat," Cassal quoted the motto of the hotel.
Godolphians were clumsy, good-natured caricatures of seals. There was nothing wrong with their medicine, however. In a matter of minutes he was feeling better. By the time the doctor left, the swelling had subsided and the open wounds were fast closing.
Eagerly, he examined the identification tab. As far as he could tell, it was perfect. What the scanner would reveal was, of course, another matter. He had to check that as best he could without exposing himself.
Services came up to the suite right after he laid the intercom down. A machine was placed over his head and the identification slipped into the slot. The code on the tab was noted; the machine hunted and found the corresponding brain area. Structure was mapped, impulses recorded, scrambled, converted into a ray of light which danced over a film.