They went home in the crowded Inglewood tube. Sam was there, but Sam seemed to avoid them, for some reason. All the way home, Joe had the uncomfortable feeling that Burke didn't believe any part of this business, that Burke was making the trip only to substantiate his own misconceptions.
But when Alice came into the living room, smiling brightly, extending her hand to the Senior Assistant, Joe had a gratifying glimpse of Burke's face.
Burke was lost. Burke stared and swallowed and grinned like a green stage hand at a burlesque show. Burke's smile was perpetual and nauseating. Even in the face of Alice's cool reserve.
The dinner was fine, the liquor mellow.
Then Joe said, "Well, Alice, it's time for the volition. It's time for your birth as a person."
"Of course," she said, and smiled.
They went down into the basement, the three of them; she sat in the chair he'd prepared and he clamped on the wired helmet and adjusted the electrodes.
Burke said weakly, "It isn't—dangerous, is it?"
"Dangerous?" Joe stared at him. "Of course not. Remember how I explained it?"
"I—uh—my memory—" Burke subsided.