When he awoke in the morning, he felt feverish and touched only the fruit and coffee on his breakfast tray. He lay on the bed for much of the morning, his thoughts obsessed with the black volumes on the wall. He knew that he must try to foil the predictions, but he feared failure. I am too upset and weak, he thought. I must ignore the books until I am better. I must turn my mind to other things. But as he tried to divert himself, he became aware of an agonizing echo in his head. He would turn in bed and think: “Q turns onto left side.” Or scratch: “Q scratches left thigh.” Or mutter “damn them”: “Q mutters, ‘damn them.’” Finally, he could stand it no longer and stumbled to one of the bookshelves. He pulled two volumes from the shelves, juggled them in his hands, dropped one, then flipped the pages several times before picking a page. “3/08/26. 11:43. At 15:29 on 3/07/26, Q opened Volume I to page 1 and read explanation of experiment.” *****He slammed down the book. “Damn you,” he said aloud. “I’m a man, not a machine. I’ll show you. I’ll show you.”***** He took another volume and held it in his hand. “Two and two are five,” he thought. “When I was six, I lived in China with the Duke of Savoy. The earth is flat.” He opened the book. “Q wants to confuse prediction. Thinks: Two and two are five …” He looked around the room as he tried to devise some other line of attack. He noticed the clock and the calendar. Each page of the book gave the date and time at which each page opened, the date and time of each event. He rushed to the desk, flipped the pages of the calendar, and turned the knob that adjusted the hands on the clock. He opened another book and read: “3/08/26. 12:03.” He yelled out: “See? You’re wrong. The calendar says June, and the time is 8:04. That’s my date and my time. Predict what you think if you want. This is what I think. And I think you’re wrong.” He had another idea. The first page he had looked at had been page 494, Volume LXIV. He would open that volume to the same page. Either it must say the same thing or it must be new. Either way they would have failed, for a new entry would show them to be tricksters. He grabbed the volume and found the page. “3/07/06. 14:03. Q entered room on 3/06/06 at 4:52.” Once again, he spoke aloud: “Of course, but that’s old news. I don’t see anything here about my turning to the page a second time. My, we do seem to be having our problems, don’t we?” He laughed in triumph and was about to shut the book when he saw the fine print at the bottom. He licked his lips and stared at the print for a long time before he pulled down another volume and turned to the page that had been indicated in the footnote: “… then Q reopened Volume LXIV, page 494, hoping …” He ripped out the page, then another, and another. His determination gave way to a fury, and he tore apart one book, then another, until twelve of them lay in tatters on the floor. He had to stop because of dizziness and exhaustion. “I’m a man,” he muttered, “not a machine.” He started for his bed, ignoring the buzzer announcing the tray of food. He made it only as far as the easy chair. He sank into it, and his eyelids seemed to close of their own weight. “I’m a …”