"I don't know," Rhodes admitted.
"Well, I doubt if it is Kedaki. The Kedaki language is not the galaxy's most imaginary. It has fewer idiomatic phrases than any. Could I have ... no! No, forget it."
"What were you going to say?"
"There's no sense confusing you further when Lord knows you're confused enough."
"But you've got to tell me if it's something which might help me learn my identity. Don't you see that, doctor?"
"I was thinking ... well, is it possible—just barely possible mind you—that you are not a Kedaki?"
"Not a Kedaki? But my skin! My skin is purple!"
"Because I made it purple. That's no answer. If you're determined to leave here, you ought to at least know that much. You know absolutely nothing about yourself. You could be mistaken in everything you think. For example, you probably are a Kedaki—but you consider yourself a highborn Kedaki when you might well be lowborn. It makes sense, doesn't it? All your life, as a lowborn Kedaki, you've been waiting for death and rebirth, hoping you'd get your chance at a higher station in life. Now, after near-death, your subconscious mind is unwilling to accept a return to your lowborn status, so you no longer believe in reincarnation and hence trick yourself into thinking you're highborn. It could explain the amnesia, too."
Rhodes shook his head. "That's a neat theory, except, if true, I wouldn't understand a word you're saying. In the first place, I probably wouldn't know any extra-Kedakian language. In the second, I wouldn't hear such irreverent talk without going berserk. In the third, I wouldn't understand terms like subconscious mind and even metempsychosis." Rhodes grinned. "But anyhow, you've given me an idea."
"What's that?"