He turned in the nonmagnetic identity disk at the desk on the other side
of the search room, receiving the metal one he wore inside the
reservation, and with it the key to his inside locker. He put on the
clothes he had left behind when he had passed out, and filled his
pockets with the miscellany of small articles he had not been allowed to
carry off the reservation. He knotted the garish necktie affected by the
civilian workers and in particular by members of the MacLeod Research
Team to advertise their nonmilitary status, lit his pipe, and walked out
into the open gallery beyond.
* * * * *
Karen Hilquist was waiting for him there, reclining in one of the metal
chairs. She looked cool in the belted white coveralls, with the white
turban bound around her yellow hair, and very beautiful, and when he saw
her, his heart gave a little bump, like a geiger responding to an
ionizing particle. It always did that, although they had been together
for twelve years, and married for ten.
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