_What sort of world was it, he puzzled, that wouldn't help
victims find out whether they had been murdered or had
committed suicide?_
* * * * *
The police counselor leaned forward and tapped the small nameplate on
his desk, which said: _Val Borgenese._ "That's my name," he said. "Who
are you?"
[Illustration]
The man across the desk shook his head. "I don't know," he said
indistinctly.
"Sometimes a simple approach works," said the counselor, shoving aside
the nameplate. "But not often. We haven't found anything that's
effective in more than a small percentage of cases." He blinked
thoughtfully. "Names are difficult. A name is like clothing, put on or
taken off, recognizable but not part of the person--the first thing
forgotten and the last remembered."
The man with no name said nothing.
"Try pet names," suggested Borgenese. "You don't have to be sure--just
say the first thing you think of. It may be something your parents
called you when you were a child."
The man stared vacantly, closed his eyes for a moment and then opened
them and mumbled something.
"What?" asked Borgenese.
"Putsy," said the man more distinctly. "The only thing I can think of
is Putsy."
The counselor smiled. "That's a pet name, of course, but it doesn't
help much. We can't trace it, and I don't think you'd want it as a
permanent name." He saw the expression on the man's face and added
hastily: "We haven't given up, if that's what you're thinking. But
it's not easy to determine your identity. The most important source of
information is your mind, and that was at the two year level when we
found you. The fact that you recalled the word Putsy is an
indication."
"Fingerprints," said the man vaguely. "Can't you trace me through
fingerprints?"
"That's another clue," said the counselor. "Not fingerprints, but the
fact that you thought of them." He jotted something down. "I'll have
to check those re-education tapes. They may be defective by now, we've
run them so many times. Again, it may be merely that your mind refused
to accept the proper information."
The man started to protest, but Borgenese cut him off. "Fingerprints
were a fair means of identification in the Twentieth Century, but this
is the Twenty-second Century."
* * * * *
The counselor then sat back. "You're confused now. You have a lot of
information you don't know how to use yet. It was given to you fast,
and your mind hasn't fully absorbed it and put it in order. Sometimes
it helps if you talk out your problems."
"I don't know if I have a problem." The man brushed his hand slowly
across his eyes. "Where do I start?"
"Let me do it for you," suggested Borgenese. "You ask questions when
you feel like it. It may help you."
He paused, "You were found two weeks ago in the Shelters. You know
what those are?"
The man nodded, and Borgenese went on: "Shelter and food for anyone
who wants or needs it. Nothing fancy, of course, but no one has to ask
or apply; he just walks in and there's a place to sleep and
periodically food is provided. It's a favorite place to put people
who've been retroed."