Colonel Carson lunged forward, mouth opening ominously.
Mitchell winked at him broadly.
Carson stopped in confusion and studied Mitchell's face. He essayed a second wink. Carson relaxed.
Mitchell picked up the hypo of colorless carrier fluid from the interestingly stained work table. "One thing first, Dr. Macklin. I'll have to have your signed release for this treatment. It specifies that your intelligence will probably be affected in this effort to keep your head from troubling you. Carson can witness it."
"Sure," Macklin said. "I guess that's okay. If you say so."
The colonel grinned, his face hot and shiny. "I'm sure it will be fine, Doctor."
Macklin looked at the officer with almost a trace of suspicion, then accepted the sheet of typescript and the ballpoint pen from Mitchell. Laboriously he affixed his signature.
Mitchell had the mathematician take a seat and pressed the needle directly into the neck area.
"Ouch!" Macklin said.
Mitchell stood back and exhaled.