You lie awake, staring into the blackness. It gnaws.
My head throbbed. I should have felt a triumphant relief, but I could
not remember my axioms, and I felt a sick dull hate for the thing the
Guild spy Carmody had done to me. What happens when you strip a man of
everything he believes in?
He remembers other things.
Those memories came trooping back like ghosts and I fought them,
sweating, but they came. Once upon a time, there was a starry-eyed young
engineer who started out to set the galaxy on fire. But he got
squeamish, somewhere along the way. So Carmody operated on him. Carmody
did things to his brain, made a good production man out of him.