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"Aw, look," Caswell complained, "I don't even know what a goricae is." "Of course you do. You just won't let yourself know." "I don't know. Tell me." "It would be better if you told me." "How can I?" Caswell raged. "I don't know!" "What do you imagine a goricae would be?" "A forest fire," Caswell said. "A salt tablet. A jar of denatured alcohol. A small screwdriver. Am I getting warm? A notebook.
He had to form his plans now. There was no time to lose. Magnessen! That inhuman monster who cut down the Caswell goricae! Magnessen! The man who, even now, was secretly planning to infect New York with the abhorrent feem desire! Oh, Magnessen, I wish you a long, long life, filled with the torture I can inflict on you. And to start with....
Inadvertently, the goricae stifled your necessary rejection of the feem desire. This in turn gave rise to your present urge to dwark someone in a vlendish manner." "No tree nourished me." "You cannot recall the experience?" "Of course not. It never happened." "You are sure of that?" "Positive." "Not even the tiniest bit of doubt?" "No! No goricae ever nourished me.
"Tell me, then, about your juvenile experiences with the thorastrian fleep." "Never had any." "Hmm. Blockage," muttered the machine. "Resentment. Repression. Are you sure you don't remember your goricae and what it meant to you? The experience is universal." "Not for me," Caswell said, swallowing a yawn. He had been undergoing mechanotherapy for close to four hours and it struck him as futile.
He returned to the living room, sat down on the couch and slipped on the headband. The Regenerator said, "Yes?" "It's the damnedest thing," Caswell said, "but do you know, I think I do remember my goricae!" John Rath contacted the New York Rapid Transit Corporation by televideo and was put into immediate contact with Mr. Bemis, a plump, tanned man with watchful eyes. "Alcoholism?" Mr.
For a while, he had talked voluntarily about his childhood, his mother and father, his older brother. But the Regenerator had asked him to put aside those fantasies. The patient's relationships to an imaginary parent or sibling, it explained, were unworkable and of minor importance psychologically. The important thing was the patient's feelings both revealed and repressed toward his goricae.
"Alcoholism will be on his records. It narrows the search considerably." As he dialed the NYRT Corporation, the expression on his craglike face was almost pleasant. It was good, for a change, to find that a human could retain some significant facts. "But surely you remember your goricae?" the Regenerator was saying. "No," Caswell answered wearily.
A revolver " "These associations are meaningful," the Regenerator assured him. "Your attempt at randomness shows a clearly underlying pattern. Do you begin to recognize it?" "What in hell is a goricae?" Caswell roared. "The tree that nourished you during infancy, and well into puberty, if my theory about you is correct.
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