"You mustn't interrupt me, either," said the old man irritably. "I mean what I say. I will tell you how you began and how you are related to me and many other trivial things like how you will leave here when you have decided to go."
"We were on our way to Jupiter," said Myra, "when we got kidnaped. Steve was going to teach at college there."
"It is a good thing to teach," the old man said. "Of course, you know very little, but it is admirable to teach those who know less. I have always been a teacher...." He trailed off into silence.
"Just what do you mean by 'always,'" asked Steve, "as long as we're being rude to each other. Just how old are you?"
"Who knows?" the old man answered slowly. "Hundreds of thousands of years."
Myra gave a little yip.
"Steve," she gasped. "His lips aren't moving!"
The oldster took this with equanimity.
"True," he said. "Because they aren't mine. At least not any more. You see, the real me is up here, in this vat. I'm just a brain. That thing you've been talking to is just a corpse. I hope you don't mind."
Myra shuddered.