“Sure. You can’t understand it while alive. So now you know how to get answers that I can’t give you.”

Rod looked up to the hospital director, but she could not judge his expression. Vernon was not to be seen, and Hauser had left the premises.

“Mr. Hill, did you feel that you were gone for some twenty-four hours?”

“That’s the first good question I heard. Let’s hope it’s the last, because I don’t like it. I seemed to be away either forever, or never. On and on and on, or just a blink. If I ever figure that out, I’ll probably kill myself.”

“Mr. Hill—”

“Oops, I’m feeling bad again. I may be dying. Talk to you later. Next time, bring admission.”

Holding up his hand, Rod stood, and was escorted away.

The audience could not help but applaud.

“He’ll make a bundle,” one reporter predicted.

“Yeah,” another agreed. “Good-looking, not shy, gets you thinking about everything he says. Geez. I’m starting to sound like Rod Hill.”

“You don’t look dead.”

“Neither did he.”