"But why?—why haven't you reported back to Hosanna? You are free. What keeps you here?"
"I do not wish to leave," the doctor said calmly.
"You're conditioned!"
"You could call it that," she agreed. "I prefer to think I have learned some sense, that I have forgotten the silly superstitions of my childhood when I came here to kill. Ten years ago I was like you, but now—"
"Now," I said bitterly, "you are a minion of Evil."
The doctor's laugh was merry and unforced. "Every year they get worse!" she chuckled. "I see what Wolverton means when he says there's no hope for this world." She floated quietly back to the floor.
I felt crushed and angry at the same time. Who was she to laugh at the Word? Once again I tried to rise. With all my strength I tried, but again I didn't move. There was something warm encircling my neck. I raised a hand to it and touched smooth metal—a close fitting ring about my throat.
"Yes," the doctor said, answering my unspoken question. "That is what restrains you. And it will stay on until he removes it. Nothing can cut that ring." She smiled ruefully. "I wore one once—for nearly five years—"
She kept on talking, something about taking time for the electronics section to develop a wave form that would cancel my powers—which was why I had lived under the field—and why I had a chance to try to escape, but I didn't really hear her. I hadn't figured on this development. It shocked me into utter numbness.
It was two days later before I could rise. The braces were gone from my leg and I was whole again. Whole, but helpless.