“Not at all?”

“Not at all.”

“Don’t you become tired?”

“Of course. I rest when I’m tired. Or switch from a mental activity to a physical one, or vice versa.”

“But you can just go on and on without sleep?”

“Yes.”

“That is incredible.”

It isn’t, of course. Science still doesn’t know what makes men sleep, or how, or why. Men will die without it. If you keep a man forcibly awake, he will die sooner than if you starve him. And yet, no one knows what sleep does for the body or how it comes on a person.

“You are in good health, Mr. Tanner?”

“Yes.”

“Is it not a strain on your heart, this endless wakefulness?”

“It doesn’t seem to be.”

“And you’ll live as long as anyone else?”

“Not quite as long, according to the doctors. Their statistics indicate that I’ll live three-fourths of my natural life span, barring accidents, of course. But I don’t trust their figures. The condition just doesn’t occur often enough to afford any conclusions.”

“But they say you won’t live as long.”

“Yes. Though my insomnia probably won’t cut off as many years from my life as would smoking, for example.”

He frowned. He’d just lit a fresh cigarette and didn’t enjoy being reminded of its ill effects. So he changed the subject.

“How do you live?” he asked.

“From day to day.”

“You misunderstand me. How do you earn your living?”

“I receive a disability pension from the Army. For my loss of sleep.”

“They pay you one hundred twelve dollars per month. Is that correct?”

It was. I’ve no idea how the Defense Department had arrived at that sum. I’m certain there’s no precedent.

“You do not live on one hundred twelve dollars per month. What else do you do? You are not employed, are you?”

“Self-employed.”

“How?”

“I write doctoral dissertations and master’s theses.”

“I do not understand.”