After he had waited a careful few minutes, Barris walked to the door, opened it and peered out to be sure that Taubmann had gone. Then he returned to his desk. Clicking on the closed-circuit vidsender he got the local Unity monitor. "Give me the Atlanta Psychological Correction Labs," he said, and then instantly he struck out with his hand and cut the circuit.
He thought, It's this sort of reasoning that's made us into the thing we are. The paranoid suspicions of one another. Unity, he thought with irony. Some unity, with each of us eying the other, watching for any mistake, any sign. Naturally Taubmann had contact with a major Healer; it's his job to interview any of them that fall into our hands. He's in charge of the Atlanta staff. That's why I consulted him in the first place.
And yet-the man's motives. He's in this for himself, Barris thought grimly. But what about mine? What are my motives, that lead me to suspect him?
After all, Jason Dill is getting along in years, and it will be one of us who will replace him. And if I could pin something on Taubmann, even the suspicion of treason, with no real facts ...
So maybe my own skirts aren't so clean, Barris thought. I can't trust myself because I'm not disinterested-none of us are, in the whole Unity structure. Better not yield to my suspicions then, since I can't be sure of my motives.
Once more he contacted the local monitor. "Yes, sir," she said. "Your call to Atlanta-"
"I want that canceled," he said curtly. "Instead-" He took a deep breath. "Give me Unity Control at Geneva."
While the call was put through-it had to be cleared through an assortment of desks along the thousands of miles of channel-he sat absently stirring his coffee. A man who avoided psychotherapy for two months, in the face of our finest medical men. I wonder if I could do that. What skill that must have taken. What tenacity.