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returning to Washington, D.C. and Rybys for some time if ever. A new life, he thought as he guided
his car through the vividly marked transcontinental traffic lanes. It's like a dream, he thought. A
dream fulfilled.
He realized, suddenly, that soupy string music filled his car. Shocked, he ceased thinking and
listened. South Pacific, he realized. The song "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair."
Eight hundred and nine strings, and not even divided strings. Was his car stereo on? He glanced at its
indicator light and dial. No, it was not.
I am in cryonic suspension! he thought. It's that huge FM transmitter next door. Fifty thousand
watts of audio drizzle messing up everyone at Cry-Labs, Incorporated. Son of a bitch!
He slowed his car, stunned and afraid. I don't get it, he thought in panic. I remember being released
from suspension; I was ten years frozen and then they found the organs for me and brought me back to
life. Didn't they? Or was that a cryonic fantasy of my dead mind? Which this is, too & oh, my God.
No wonder it has seemed like a dream; it is a dream.
The Fox, he thought, is a dream. My dream. I invented her as I lay in suspension; I am inventing
her now. And my only clue is this dull music seeping in everywhere. Without the music I would never
have known.
It is diabolic, he thought, to play such games with a human being, with his hopes. With his
expectations.
A red light on his dashboard lit up, and simultaneously a bleep-bleep-bleep sounded. He had, in
addition to everything else, become the target of a cop car.
The cop car came up beside him and grappled onto his car. Their mutual doors slid back and the
cop confronted him. "Hand me your license," the cop said. His face, behind its plastic mask, could not
be seen; he looked like some kind of World War I fortification, something that had been built at
Verdun.
"Here it is." Herb Asher passed his license to the cop as their two cars, now joined, moved slowly
forward as one.
"Are there any warrants out on you, Mr. Asher?" the cop said as he punched information into his
console.
"No," Herb Asher said.
"You're mistaken." Lines of illuminated letters appeared on the cop's display. "According to our
records, you're here on Earth illegally. Did you know that?"
"It's not true," he said.
"This is an old warrant. They've been trying to find you for some time. I am going to take you into
custody."
Herb Asher said, "You can't. I'm in cryonic suspension. Watch and I'll put my hand through you."
He reached out and touched the cop. His hand met solid armored flesh. "That's strange," Herb Asher
said. He pressed harder, and then realized, all at once, that the cop held a gun pointed at him.
"You want to bet?" the cop said. "About the cryonic suspension?"
"No," Herb Asher said.
"Because if you fool around anymore I will kill you. You are a wanted felon. I can kill you any
time I wish. Take your hand off me. Get it away.
Herb Asher withdrew his hand. And yet he could still hear South Pacific. The soupy sound still
oozed at him from every side.
"If you could put your hand through me," the cop said, "you'd fall through the floor of your car.
Think the logic through. It isn't a question of my being real; it's a question of everything being real.
For you, I mean. It's your problem. Or you think it's your problem. Were you in cryonic suspension at
one time?"
"Yes."
"You're having a flashback. It's common. Under pressure your brain abreacts. Cryonic suspension
provides a womblike sense of security that your brain tapes and later on retrieves. Is this the first time
it's happened to you, this flashback? I've come across people who've been in cryonic suspension who
never could be convinced by any evidence, by what anyone said or whatsoever happened, that they
were finally out of it."
"You're talking to one of them now," Herb Asher said.
"Why do you think you're in cryonic suspension?"
"The soupy music."
"I don't "
"Of course you don't. That's the point."
"You're hallucinating."
"Right." Herb Asher nodded. "That's my point." He reached out for the cop's gun. "Go ahead and
shoot," he said. "It won't hurt me. The beam will go right through me.
"I think you belong in a mental hospital, not a jail."
"Maybe so."
The cop said, "Where were you going?"
"To California. To visit the Fox."
"As in the Fox and the Cat?"
"The greatest living singer."
"I never heard of him."
"Her," Herb Asher said. "She's not well known in this world. In this world she's just beginning her
career. I'm going to help make her famous throughout the galaxy. I promised her."
"What's the other world compared to this?"
"The real world," Herb Asher said. "God caused me to remember it. I'm one of the few people who
remembers it. He appeared to me in the bamboo bushes and there were words in red fire telling me the
truth and restoring my memories."
"You are a very sick man. You think you're in cryonic suspension and you remember another
universe. I wonder what would have happened to you if I hadn't grappled onto you.
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