That's the wrong question, said the other.

What's right?

Have you had any prior experience with drugs? that one asked me.

Yes.

What ones?

I've had aspirin, nicotine, caffeine, alcohol ...

Truth serums, he said. Things like this, things that make you talk. Have you had them before?

Yes.

Where?

At Northwestern University.

Why?

I volunteered for a series of experiments.

What did they involve?

The effects of drugs on consciousness.

Mental reservations, he said to the other. It could take days. I think he has primed himself.

Can you beat a truth drug? the other one asked me.

I do not understand.

Can you lie to us, now?

No.

Wrong question, again, said the shorter. He is not lying. Anything he says is literally true.

So how do we get an answer out of him?

I'm not sure.

So they continued to hit me with questions. After a time, things began to wane.

He's got us, said the shorter one. It would take days to beat him down.

Should we ... ?

No. We've got the tape. We've got his answers. Let's let a computer worry about it.

But by then it was near morning, and I had the funny feeling, accompanied by cold flashes on the back of my neck, that I might be able to manage a fib or three once again. There was some light on the other side of my portholes. They had been going at me for what seemed to be many hours. I decided to try.

I think this place is bugged, I said.

What? What do you mean?