"You know very well." She got to her feet, went over to the television
screen and looked into it. It was blank.
He followed her over, removing the electrode from his forehead. He
tossed it on the bench and looked at the clock. "Twenty minutes," he
said.
"Twenty minutes what?" she asked.
"We were both out twenty minutes, and all the time the machine was
running. So, whatever was recorded, the only evidence we'll have is the
camera. Might as well run it back and see what you missed."
She stiffened. "Lord knows what's on it. If what you started out with
is any criterion."
He grinned at her. "It's _my_ thoughts, not yours, which are going to
be exposed to the public, in this case you," he said. "And while I
develop the film, I suggest you powder up a bit. You look a bit wan and
tired...."
"Before I do," she said, "I want to warn you."
"About what?"
"It wasn't just lines and patterns and lights on the screen. It was
actual pictures."