"Who wouldn't? After all, I had this body first. He's an interloper."
"Seems that way."
"It is—and it's annoying."
"We may be able to do something about it," said the psychiatrist. "Permit me to think about this for a few days. We'll have another consultation in a week. We may require another one before I make a decision. But it seems to me that you are both intelligent, useful citizens. Neither of you is irresponsible or dangerous. You have enough money to afford schizophrenia for a while. Especially if the personality B dreams up things that personality A makes practical, financially advantageous use of. Ergo you need fear nothing for a few weeks."
"Ugh. Means I'll have to go out and buy another high-frequency heater. O.K., doctor. I'll lay low."
Thomas Lionel, Ph.D., M.M., awoke with a shake of his head. At once, he was out of bed. He consulted first the calendar and then the clock. The thought struck him funny. He hadn't been drinking, but the idea of looking at a calendar upon awakening might be construed as an admission that he didn't know what time of what day it was.
Or mayhap what month.
"I've been away again," he grunted.
He dressed by stages. At the trousers department, Thomas wandered out into the living room and stood over the chessboard, studying the set-up.