"But it's therapy. Dr. Manschoff said—"
"Look, Collins. Millions of people flip every year. Millions more attempt suicide. How many of them end up in a place like this?"
"They don't, though. That's just Naturalist propaganda. Dr. Manschoff said—"
"Dr. Manschoff said! I know what he said, all right. And you believed him, because you wanted to believe him. You wanted the reassurance he could offer you—the feeling of being unique and important. So you didn't ask him any questions, you didn't ask any questions of yourself. Such as why anybody would consider an insignificant little agency man, without friends, family or connections, worth the trouble of rehabilitating at all, let alone amidst such elaborate and expensive surroundings. Why, men like you are a dime a dozen these days—Vocational Apt can push a few buttons and come up with half a million replacements to take over your job. You aren't important to society, Collins. You aren't important to anyone at all, besides yourself. And yet you got the red-carpet treatment. It's about time somebody yanked that carpet out from under you. What's it all about?"
Harry blinked. "Look here, I don't see why this is any of your business. Besides, to tell the truth, I'm expecting—"
"I know who you're expecting, but I've already told you she won't be here. Because she's expecting."
"What—?"
"It's high time you learned the facts of life, Collins. Yes, the well-known facts of life—the ones about the birds and the bees, and barefoot boys and blondes, too. Your little friend Sue is going to have a souvenir."
"I don't believe it! I'm going to ask Dr. Manschoff."
"Sure you are. You'll ask Manschoff and he'll deny it. And so you'll tell him about me. You'll say you met somebody in the woods today—either a lunatic or a Naturalist spy who infiltrated here under false pretenses. And Manschoff will reassure you. He'll reassure you just long enough to get his hands on me. Then he'll take care of both of us."