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Updated: May 14, 2025
By Martian standards, the customer is a very sick man, a psychotic no matter what is wrong with him." Follansby removed his pince-nez and polished them rapidly. "What will the machine do, then?" "It will treat him for the Martian illness most analogous to his case. Feem desire, I should imagine, with various complications. As for what will happen once treatment begins, I don't know.
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....
"You have," the machine informed him, "a classic case of feem desire, complicated by strong dwarkish intentions." "I do? I thought I was homicidal." "That term has no referent," the machine said severely. "Therefore I must reject it as nonsense syllabification. Now consider these points: The feem desire is perfectly normal. Never forget that.
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.
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