"Well, it's over now. As of--" he peered at his wrist watch for an
instant, then jotted the time down on the top sheet of paper--"3:15
P.M., 17 July, 2173, I can no longer call you Dan Griffin. You're a
Free Agent now. Or you will be." He picked up the paper, glanced at it,
and handed it across the desk to Griffin. "Don't let it throw you," he
said.
Griffin glanced down at the paper, with a terrifying feeling of
unreality, as if this were all part of a very bad dream. They had told
him, of course. They had explained it all very carefully. But then,
they had told him so many things. At the top of the paper he saw
the Hoffman Medical Center seal, and just below it, in heavy Gothic
letters, he read: