Total Recall by Piers Anthony

than he allowed the records to show. Every client was an individual, with different synapses and reactions; there were bound to be some mismatches.
    “What the fuck is going on here?” McClane demanded, aggravated. “You can’t install a simple goddamn double implant?!” Politeness was for prospective clients, not for errant employees.
    “It’s not my fault,” Dr. Lull protested. “We hit a memory cap.”
    “Untie me, you assholes!” Quaid roared. “They’ll be here any minute! They’ll kill you all!”
    Huh? “What’s he talking about?” McClane snapped.
    “Stop this operation now! ” Quaid yelled.
    How could the guy be talking so clearly? A reaction-induced berserker might scream and froth at the mouth, but his words would be mostly blasphemy and gibberish. Quaid sounded alarmingly coherent. “Mr. Quaid, please calm down,” McClane said, trying to be soothing. Maybe they could change the mix, get him sedated all the way down, then explore the problem. A memory cap? Who would have expected that!
    “I’m not Quaid!”
    Multiple personality? That just might account for this, and react like a memory cap, because of the memory taken by the alternate personalities. But Lull should have caught that! McClane nervously walked closer to examine Quaid’s eyes.
    “You’re having a reaction to the implant,” he said, though he was by no means sure of that. Anything to get this thing muscled down so they could work their way out of it! “But in a few minutes—”
    Quaid strained again at his bonds. Suddenly the strap holding his right arm snapped. That arm shot up and grabbed McClane by the throat. What devastating power the man had!
    “Untie me.” Quaid’s words were softly spoken now, but the quiet menace was all too apparent.
    McClane, choking, tried to pry Quaid’s hand from his neck. But even his two hands couldn’t loosen the iron grip. Construction workers had strong arms; he had known that. Why hadn’t he told them to double the straps? He was going to faint before he could even talk!
    Ernie came out of his stasis. He rushed over and tried to wrestle Quaid’s arm down, using his full body weight. He might as well have pushed against the branch of an oak tree. McClane felt his consciousness wavering as he struggled unsuccessfully to breathe.
    Dr. Lull hastily readied a syringe gun and frantically jabbed it into Quaid’s thigh. She fired dose after dose of narkidrine, until the man finally released his grip and passed out.
    McClane fell to the floor, gagging, the studio and the world reeling. Ernie clung to him, managing to slow his fall.
    Dr. Lull came over to help. “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously, putting a hand down to check his forehead.
    McClane shoved her hand away and gasped for breath. What a mess this was!
    “Listen to me!” Dr. Lull said urgently. “He’s been going on and on about Mars.” Now it was evident that she was genuinely frightened. “He’s really been there!”
    The world slowly ground down and fell into its proper place, but McClane still felt the pressure of those terrible fingers against his throat. He was bruised, for sure, but lucky it was no worse. What a monster! “Use your fucking head, you dumb bitch!” he rasped. “He’s acting out the secret agent role from his Ego Trip! You should have strapped him securely enough to hold him, so that when he thought—”
    “That’s not possible,” Lull said coolly. She didn’t like strong language, but this time her carelessness had invited disaster.
    “Why not?” he inquired condescendingly. She wasn’t going to get away with any pseudo-medical jargon to talk her way out of this foul-up!
    “We haven’t implanted it yet.”
    McClane stared at her, his oncoming retort abruptly stifled. “Oh, shit . . .” Suddenly he was terrified. No implant? And the man had been talking about an actual Mars experience? This was no longer weird, it was dangerous!
    “I’ve been trying to tell you,” Dr. Lull