Inside, the aura of strain was even denser. If anything, the place
looked more normal than it had earlier; there were more people.
The huge waiting room was packed and a dozen sweating clerks were
interviewing long lines of persons. But here, as outside, the feeling
was wrong; the crowds weren't noisy enough; they lacked the nervous
boisterousness they should have had.
Dr. Lawton looked worried. He greeted me and showed me to a small room
near the elevators. There was a cocoon of milky plastic on a wheeled
table; I looked closer, and inside the cocoon, recognizable through the
clear plastic over the face, was the waxlike body of Luigi Zorchi. The
eyes were closed and he was completely still. I would have thought him
dead if I had not known he was under the influence of the drugs used in
the suspension of life in the vaults.