"Bah!" said the prophet. "That was the idea with which I began business when this world was young. But they have spoiled that also and taught the people that dreams were merely neurotic emanations of a bad bellyful of beef and beans. I tell you, my friend, they have left me nothing, nothing of mystery and magic to sell the people; and here I am, a prophet, wise in all the ways of prophecy, and sitting in an empty shop full of musty bones!"
Taking leave of this disgruntled prophet, Gud strolled through the Market of Knowledge to see for himself how it was that these scientists had ruined the honorable business of prophecy. And Gud saw many wonders and much business going on. In one stall he saw a chemist with tubes and retorts brewing pretty smells to scent ill-favored women. In another he saw a doctor with a microscope studying the germs of disease and making poisons to kill them. And in another was a chemist analyzing foods to see how much fatness or leanness they contained, so that he could sell recipes that would make the waists of his customers of a girth suited to the length of their lovers' arms.
And in all the shops of the scientists, Gud discovered that young men were busy analyzing things and dissecting and dismembering them and finding out of what they were made, so that they could prepare some recipe or medicine or knowledge and sell it and get gain. And Gud wondered what was left that his old friend, the prophet, could dissect and analyze and sell as a scientific product and so get gain.
As Gud pondered this he chanced to stroll into the shop of a psychologist whose secretary had the nose bleed so that she fainted, and Gud asked: "What is the matter with her?"
"She is unconscious," replied the psychologist, "her mind has lost its awareness."
"Is her mind dead?"
"No, no," retorted the psychologist.
"Then why does she not talk?"
"Because her mind is unconscious and she cannot use it to talk with."
"But, what is she doing with it?"