"No, sir!" the mathematician said. "I shall not go back to my original state. I can remember what it was like. Always worrying, worrying, worrying."
"You mean wondering," Mitchell said.
Macklin nodded. "Troubled, anyway. Disturbed by every little thing. How high was up, which infinity was bigger than what infinity—say, what was an infinity anyway? All that sort of schoolboy things. It's peaceful this way. My head doesn't hurt. I've got a good-looking wife and all the money I need. I've got it made. Why worry?"
Colonel Carson opened his mouth, then closed it.
"That's right, Colonel. There's no use in arguing with him," Mitchell said.
"It's not his decision to make," the colonel said. "He's an idiot now."
"No, Colonel. As you said, he's a moron. He seems an idiot compared to his former level of intelligence but he's legally responsible. There are millions of morons running around loose in the United States. They can get married, own property, vote, even hold office. Many of them do. You can't force him into being cured.... At least, I don't think you can."
"No, I can't. This is hardly a totalitarian state." The colonel looked momentarily glum that it wasn't.
Mitchell looked back at Macklin. "Where did his wife get to, Colonel? I don't think that even previously he made too many personal decisions for himself. Perhaps she could influence him."
"Maybe," the colonel said. "Let's find her."