Forgotten.
Go home.
Of course.
Alan rose and passed out of the range of the lights, and the tall man nodded with approval and began to switch off his terrible lamps.
Alan woke in the grayness of dawn, cramped and half-chilled from sleeping in a chair. He stretched and groaned, and got up to brew some coffee. Brave woke at the clinking of china and came padding out to the kitchen.
"Up so early, commodore? You look as if you hadn't slept."
"I slept, all right, but it didn't do much good. My head's splitting."
Brave took over the coffee pot. "Any more ideas on the mutant theory?"
"Oh, hell. I guess I was wrong."