Nodding, Harker said quietly, "Look here, Mart: I'm going to pull a Mitchison."
"Huh?"
"I mean, I'm going to jump the gun and announce that you've already straightened things up, and that from now on reanimation will work every time, provided no vital organs are damaged and that decay hasn't begun."
"What's the point of doing that? It isn't so."
"It will be so, sooner or later. Sooner, I hope. But I have an idea for a sort of publicity stunt, a grandstand play that should clinch the idea of reanimation's safety. Or else finish us altogether."
Harker walked to the window and stared out. Raymond said, "Jim, what the dickens are you talking about?"
Harker turned sharply. "Very simple. We're going to give a public demonstration of reanimation, sometime in the next couple of days. In order to prove the absolute safety of the process, I'm going to allow you to kill me under laboratory conditions and bring me back to life."
"Are you crazy?"
"Desperate. It's not quite the same thing."
"But suppose it doesn't work? What if—you remember how Thurman looked?"