Somewhere he had blundered; but he didn't know how. Experimentally he his fingers. They moved a fraction of an inch, but no more. He was helpless and couldn't say anything. He wasn't quite sure at the moment that he wanted to.  
"You were right, I didn't recognize you ," continued the man. "Nevertheless, you gave yourself away. The name you used this afternoon, Chals Putsyn, is my name. Do you remember now?"
 
Of course. He'd chosen Chals Putsyn at , because he'd had to say something, and everything would have been all right—except it actually hadn't been a random choice. The associations had triggered the wrong words into existence.
 
His mind flashed back to the time he'd discussed names with Borgenese. What had he said?
 
Putsy. But it wasn't Putsy—it was Putsyn.
 
"You're very much improved," said the real Chals Putsyn, staring at him. "Let me recommend the retro treatment to you. In fact I'd take it myself, but there are a few inconveniences."
 
Yeah, there were inconveniences—like starting over again and not knowing who you were.
 
But Putsyn was right: he was physically improved. A freezer knocked a man............