And for one year, Clifford Maculay, physicist, would be as different from his former self as was possible without breaking the law to bits.
"At the end of this year, you will return to your apartment in Washington, take a good night's sleep, and awaken as Doctor Clifford Maculay. Then, and only then will you remember; and you will realize furthermore that this job of relaxation has been forced upon you for your own good. You will then be able to solve the error in your calculations."
Hanson paused for a moment, pondering as to the advisability of giving the hypnotized physicist a key-word to bring him out of the post-hypnotic suggestion. But Doctor Hanson was seventy years old; he knew all too well that a year from this moment he might be dead and gone. He viewed it calmly, but not disinterestedly, and decided against a key-word; it only introduced a conflicting factor.
Let the man awaken of his own accord.
Then he awakened Maculay, who sat back in his chair with a chuckle, reached for a cigarette from the box on Hanson's desk, and puffed at it with relish.
"How do you feel?" asked the doctor.
"Like a million," said Maculay.
"Good. Come back in one year. I'll have my girl make an appointment. For now, we're all finished."
Doctor Hanson stood and watched Maculay head for the door; the physicist's step had a certain bounce, curtailed by the fact that the unused muscles of his body were not used to the catlike stride of the completely balanced, healthy man. A few days of that sort of bounce and Maculay would have it. The door closed exuberantly and Cliff was on his way to a one-year binge.