The first waking didn’t count for much. It was a blurry, mush-minded few minutes of staring at an unfocused white ceiling, wondering who I was, where I was, and why I was aching all over. I didn’t even try to move, which I later found out was just as well.

The second time up from the pit was better and worse. I found myself in a firm bed that was raised at the head end ten or fifteen degrees. I was in no danger of falling out, though — not with the tubes and wires that hung all over me like spaghetti. I was the central meatball. And I hurt even more than the first time.

I lay there, blinking. My right eye was providing me with a set of strange and uncoordinated images, and I spent the first few minutes trying to get things into focus. It was hard work until I learned the trick, which was to concentrate only on the object and not on the way my eye did the focusing. When the image in front of me finally became sharp it was debatable if the result was worth the effort. I was looking at a fat, bald-headed man with bulging eyes. He was sitting on a chair at the end of the bed, holding an apple in one thick-fingered paw and stolidly munching on it.

He nodded at me cheerfully when he saw that I was awake and finally focusing on him.

“With us for a while, eh? Good. I can stop guarding you for a little bit. D’ye know who you are?”

I made a miserable croaking noise, and he looked sympathetic.

“Try again.”

“Ah — ah — Li’el Sa’ki’.”

“Terrific.” He threw the apple core somewhere out of sight, wiped his hands on the pants of his crumpled blue suit, and stood up. “That’s the first question answered. I think you’d do well now to have another little nap. Don’t go away now, and I’ll bring the nurse.”