The two guards came back a couple hours later and, to Lett’s full surprise, announced that Selfer himself had authorized his release. They escorted him out, taking him along more corridors like his and through connecting hatches, then finally to a narrow metal stairwell painted the same gray as the concrete walls. The stairwell shaft rose straight up. At the top landing waited a large hatch with an oversize handle. Lett stepped outside and saw that the hatch was built into a rectangular steel housing inside the forest, its olive drab paint blending in with the thick greenery. He could see from the sun that it was late afternoon. A short trail delivered him to a clearing that neighbored the one where he’d lost his marbles.

There a clerk gave him a small bungalow of his own. Lett noticed, meanwhile, that he was feeling none of the effects he’d felt the first time out here. The clerk advised him to remain at his quarters until called for. He shouldn’t have visitors just yet, and he shouldn’t try visiting others, any offices, or even the mess hall just yet—these were Selfer’s strict instructions. They brought him his meals, good chow and lots of it, too, with fresh coconut on the side and the best coffee he’d ever tasted. Yet another day passed. He was growing jumpy again, and itchy, so much so that he kept unbuttoning his shirt and trousers to check for ants. He started walking laps around his bungalow and pounded out a little path. While he was circling the bungalow, the man who brought him food offered to put up a hammock for him.

“I don’t care about a hammock!” Lett shouted back.