Roadmarks by Roger Zelazny

understand that either, in your present condition. A different you — an earlier incarnation — would have. Have you never wondered about the man you once might have been?"
    "I have wondered."
    "We will restore these memories to you."
    "How were they taken away?"
    "By sophisticated chemical and neurological techniques you would not understand. You see, even to mention them, I have had to use words which are not in your present vocabulary."
    "You know what I was — before?"
    "Yes."
    "Tell me what I was like."
    "It is better for you to discover it for yourself. We will assist you."
    "How will you do this?"
    "We will give you a series of injections of — You would not know what RNA is, but we will treat you with your own RNA, from samples taken before you were changed."
    "This substance will return knowledge of my earlier life to me?"
    "We think so. Sundoc is a highly skilled physician. He will administer it."
    "I do not know . . .  "
    "What do you mean?"
    "I am not certain that I wish to become acquainted with the man I once was. What if I do not like him?"
    Sundoc, who had risen to his feet and stood rubbing his head, smiled.
    Toba said, "I can tell you this: You did not undergo the first change willingly."
    "Why would someone force me to become another man?"
    "There is only one way for you to learn this. What do you say?"
    Timyin Tin crossed the cell to the urn and poured himself a cup of tea. He seated himself upon a mat and stared into the cup. He took a sip. After a time, Sundoc and Toba also settled to the floor.
    "Yes, it is frightening," Toba said finally, groping for words and shaping them slowly. "It is the — uncertainty. You seem to have adjusted well to life here. Now we come along and offer to change it all, without really telling you what the alternative will be. This is not perversity on our part. In your present state of mind, you simply would not understand what we have to say. We are asking you to accept a strange gift — your own past — because we wish to talk with the man you used to be. It may be that, when you have remembered, you will not choose to deal with us. Then, of course, you would be free to go your own way, to return here if you wish. But the gift we will have given you is not a thing we can recall."
    "Self-knowledge is a thing I desire," Timyin Tin stated, "and the recollection of past lives is an important step along that road. For this reason, I should say yes immediately. But I have meditated upon just this in the past. Supposing I were to achieve recall of a previous existence — not just a few memories, but all of it? Supposing I not only did not like that individual, but discovered that he was stronger than I — and instead of assimilating him into my existence, he were to assimilate me? What then? Would it not be a turning backward of the Great Wheel? By accepting knowledge from a source I do not understand, may I not be laying myself open to such possession by an earlier self?"
    Neither man answered him, and he took another sip of tea.
    "But why should I ask you?" he said then. "No man can answer such a question for another."
    "Yet," said Toba, "it is a fair question. Of course, I cannot answer it for you. I can only suggest that, in terms of your beliefs, one of your future selves may one day be wondering that same thing about you. What would your feelings be about that?"
    Abruptly, Timyin Tin laughed.
    "Very good," he said. "The self always wants to be at the center of things, does it not?"
    "You've got me."
    Timyin Tin finished his tea, and when he looked up, there was a new expression on his face. It was difficult to understand how that slight squint with the small rising of the cheeks above a half-smile could convey the sense of recklessness, boldness and defiance that it did.
    "I am ready for this enlightenment," he announced. "Let it begin."
    "It will probably take many days," Toba said cautiously. "There must be a number of treatments."
    "Then there must be a first