“Shit they are! You just want me for more appointments. You’ll probably pull every tooth in my head just to make a few extra bucks!”

George had almost forgotten what was bothering him, but the young man’s defiant, scornful glare brought it all back, because George instantly compared that hateful look with the forgiving, yet childlike clarity in the eyes of his earlier patient. The exuberance he’d felt when the nut first blessed him had vanished. Naturally, George thought, with irony. But his usual state of being—that had always been a-o.k.—now seemed drab and dull by contrast, as if his whole body were full of novocaine.

“Well?” demanded the young man arrogantly.

“Hell, I pull teeth just for the fun of it,” George said. “How come you’re here?”

“The dumb bastards want to find out if I’m crazy or not.”

“Are you?” George asked. “I think everybody is crazy. Can’t say I’d suggest gum surgery. Don’t think it would do any good.”

The young man said, “You mean, if I had money, you’d do it, don’t you?”

George had had it. He stepped back, hands planted on his hips.

“I’ll take every tooth out of your head right now if you want me to,” George said, with a forced laugh that was half joking menace and half real dismay. What the hell was wrong with guys like that? he wondered. Then, “The condition of your gums is so advanced that I don’t think you can save the teeth anyhow. I’m trying to save you some pain. Gum surgery is no picnic, and I doubt it will help in your case. The teeth are loosening. In about three months or so we can start taking them out, and I’ll give you a bridge for a while—”

“Shit, I’m not going to be here any damn three months,” Gregory Diggs shouted. “You’re a crazy man! In three months I’ll be long gone one way or the other.” He started to get out of the chair.

“Have it your way,” George said, and he shrugged his shoulders because he couldn’t get through to the kid at all. And, he told himself, he should have known better than to try.

“Yeah, well you done with me?” Gregory Diggs asked. “I got an appointment with my banker.” He grinned, got out of the chair, wiggled his backside defiantly, and headed for the door.

“Super. Enjoy yourself,” George said dourly.

George began cleaning up his equipment and packing up his instruments in his small bag. Still watching, Oversoul Seven said: “Even though he’s in an institution, that Gregory worries me. I don’t mean to make too much of this, but—well, he couldn’t hurt George in any way, could he?”