Evidently Dr. Letzmiller had been expecting him, for very shortly Lee found himself sitting at the doctor's desk, comfortably seated in a brown leather armchair. He was facing a rather pudgy man, who was leafing through the manila folder Lee had given him. Finally Dr. Letzmiller looked up.
"Well. Well now, Mr. Lee, suppose you first tell me about yourself, and then I'll tell you about me."
"Tell you about me?" Lee asked.
Dr. Letzmiller smiled. It was another tolerant smile, but it seemed more sincere than Gorss'. "I suppose the best way would be for me to review these facts on your medical history. You are Vincent Bonard Lee?"
"Yes, sir."
"Date of birth?"
"August 11, 1934."
"That would make you four hundred nine years old."
Lee hesitated. He never really thought of his age. It had long ago ceased to be of any importance to him. Of course he remembered his birth date. It was one of those facts that always appears on your records, like your social security number. He did some calculation in his head, as rapidly as the constantly shifting blank spots in his thinking would allow him.