Suddenly Crabbe grinned. “I wish I were a peeper,” he said. “I’d like to get the real image in your mind.”

“You’ve got it already, sir.” Powell grinned back. A rapport had been established between them for the first time.

“It was necessary,” Powell continued, “to confront Reich with The Man With No Face. We had to make him see the truth before we could get the truth. Using the pool of latent energy, I built a common neurotic concept for Reich… the illusion that he alone in the world was real.”

“Why, I’ve — Is that common?”

“Oh yes, sir. It’s one of the run-of-the-mill escape patterns. When life gets tough, you tend to take refuge in the idea that it’s all make-believe… a giant hoax. Reich had the seeds of that weakness in him already. I simply forced them and let Reich defeat himself. Life was getting tough for him. I persuaded him to believe that the universe was a hoax… a puzzle-box. Then I tore it down, layer by layer. I made him believe that the test was ended. The puzzle was being dismantled. And I left Reich alone with The Man With No Face. He looked into the face and saw himself and his father… and we had everything.”

Powell picked up his parcel and arose. Crabbe jumped up and escorted him to the door with a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve done a phenomenal job, Powell. Really phenomenal. I can’t tell you… It must be a wonderful thing to be an Esper.”

“Wonderful and terrible, sir.”

“You must all be very happy.”

“Happy?” Powell paused at the door and looked at Crabbe. “Would you be happy to live your life in a hospital, Commissioner?”

“A hospital?”

“That’s where we live… All of us. In the psychiatric ward. Without escape… without refuge. Be grateful you’re not a peeper, sir. Be grateful that you only see the outward man. Be grateful that you never see the passions, the hatreds, the jealousies, the malice, the sicknesses… Be grateful you rarely see the frightening truth in people. The world will be a wonderful place when everyone’s a peeper and everyone’s adjusted… But until then, be greatful you’re blind.”

He left headquarters, hired a Jumper and was jetted North toward Kingston Hospital. He satin the cabin with the parcel on his knees, gazing down at the magnificent Hudson Valley, whistling a crooked tune. Once he grinned and muttered: “Wow! That was some line I handed Crabbe. But I had to cement our relations. Now he’ll feel sorry for peepers… and friendly.”

Kingston Hospital came into view… acre upon rolling acre of magnificent landscaping. Solariums, pools, lawns, athletic fields, dormitories, clinics… all in exquisite neo-classic design. As the Jumper descended, Powell could make out the figures of patients and attendants… all bronzed, active, laughing, playmg. He thought of the vigilant measures the Board of Governors was forced to take to prevent Kingston Hospital from becoming another Spaceland. Too many fashionable malingerers were already attempting to obtain admission.