that Daedalus had succeeded with his wings, we honored him by naming our process after him."
"You're a fiend," she sobbed. "A devil. You go around trying to make people go out of their minds! Let me go!"
"I shall not restrain you," he said quietly. "But, Sara, your life can never be resumed as it was before you entered this room. If you leave and do not speak of what I have told you, you will slowly go mad. Not knowing everything about us, you will never find rest or peace or sleep."
She dropped her hands and met his gaze. There was no demon in his eyes, no cruelty.
"Tell me," she pleaded.
"I shall begin with the Daedalus processing since that is our mode of transportation. By free choice we are measured and fitted with magnetic plates in our shoulders and heels to which our wings attach when needed. These fold so minutely that we may carry them easily in our pockets."
"You can't!" she cried suddenly, her mind a turmoil of facts hazily recalled, garnered from some volume she once searched or possibly simply a fact picked up. "If you come from a far off planet, out where the sun is . . . there isn't any air and wings won't carry you!"
"Remember Sara, I said we use wings when needed. When we take off we use only our characteristic of controlled gravitational pull. Later, when we have reached the atmosphere, we attach our wings for a smooth landing."
"But . . ." she could only whisper, "you came to us recommended. With credentials. How . . ."
"Our laboratories are equipped for every contingency," he said calmly. "I served my apprenticeship here on Earth at a small hospital in Idaho. A rugged part of Idaho . . . they don't ask questions in such places where the need of a doctor is great. It was simple of course to obtain written credentials from them . . . Sara, we have little time. I am expected downstairs."
He took a step toward her and she pressed back against the chair.
"Are there . . ." she could barely form the words, "other surgeons here in this hospital . . . like you?"
"No one else in this particular hospital," he shook his head. "But we have doctors placed all through your country. Two in each major city."
In her throat the screams of hysteria were beginning to form. None of this could be happening to her. She was Sara Beals, Assistant in Surgery, forty-one years old, spinster. And everybody knows nothing ever happens to spinsters! She was on her feet with the thought. If she began to Walk out he would not stop her. She took a tentative step and his voice followed her.
"At home, we walk on grass everywhere. Your cement hurts our
