Transcription

[[The ring of Physarics gathered around Fred, Socrates, and Plato is abuzz with murmured questions.]]
Voice: Is it really him?
Voice: Can he do what they say?
Voice: What if it's an enemy trick?
Voice: Can it be?
Fred: [whispered, to Socrates] They're not expecting a speech, are they?

[[A single Physaric approaches the three in the middle of the ring.]]
Physaric: This is marvelous! Can he truly do what the Syncytium claimed? Can he cure the "tainted"?
Socrates: Perhaps. I believe he "cured" me.

Physaric: This is the answer to our needs! We must inform the Colonel at once!
Plato: NO!
Fred: [thinking to himself] "The Colonel"?

Plato: This is an internal affair. It is non of the Colonel's concern. For now, keep this to the lower levels. We will bring him to the Syncytium.