 What separate Infield and Morgan from the Normals?
The gleaming rod extended above his head about a foot, the wires from it leading down into his collar, along his spine and finally out his pants leg to a short metallic strap that dragged on the floor. Infield turned his soft blue eyes to the black and tan oxfords with the very thick rubber soles. The people we treat are on one side of the line and we're on the other. "I dunno, Henry, but staying on our side is a pretty good way to keep sane But now I know we're semi-mechanics, semi-engineers, semi-inventors, semi lots of other things, but certainly not even semi-psychiatrists. Floating before him in memory was the vertical hoop and the horizontal hoop, both of shining steel-impervium alloy. The gyro actually passed over a man's shoulder, through his legs, under his arms. Any time he felt the walls creeping in to crush him, he could withdraw his head and limbs into the circle and feel safe. Or suppose he's walking down a railroad track and hears a train whistle—if he can hear anything over that verbal pablum gushing in his ear." With that image over everything he sees and with that insidious voice drumming in his head night and day, do you mean to say that man's senses will only be impaired 23 per cent? Infield stepped into the main stream of human traffic and tried to adjust to the second change in the air. Many "Cures" were not readily apparent. A young man with black glasses and a radar headset (a photophobe) was unable to keep from being pushed against Infield. It was the first time in years that anyone had apologized to Infield for anything. A clean-cut young man with mouse-colored hair was moving toward the stubble-chinned, heavy-shouldered man quivering in the center of a web of impervium cables stuck secure to the walls and windows of buildings facing the street, the sidewalk, a mailbox, the lamp post and Infield. The magnetic suction dart dropped away from Infield like a thing that had been alive and now was killed. "Not—not long," Infield evaded. Infield's pulse raced, trying to get ahead of his thoughts, and losing out. Infield shifted around, trying to see that side of his benefactor, but couldn't manage it in good grace. People take one look at your Cure and don't ask you to go walking in the rain.
 The Normals are uncured
 The Normals are cannibalistic  The Normals are uncured  The Normals are socially repulsive  The Normals are delusional