Doctor Pollard nodded in silent agreement. He faced the well-dressed man seated asprawl in the chair before him and asked, "You have never heard of James Forrest Carroll?"
"No," said the other man.
"But you are James Forrest Carroll."
"No."
The laboratory director shrugged. "This is no place for me," he said. "If I can do anything—?"
"You can do nothing, Majors. As with the others this case is almost complete amnesia. Memory completely shot. Even the trained-in mode of speech is limited to guttural monosyllables and grunts."
John Majors shook his head, partly in pity and partly in sheer withdrawal at such a calamity.
"He was a brilliant man."
"If he follows the usual pattern, he'll never be brilliant again," Doctor Pollard continued. "From I.Q. one hundred and eighty down to about seventy. That's tough to take—for his friends and associates, that is. He'll be alone in the world until we can bring his knowledge up to the low I.Q. he owns now. He'll have to make new friends for his old ones will find him dull and he'll not understand them. His family—"
"No family."