 What is normal about the Incompletes?
The people we treat are on one side of the line and we're on the other. We are treating the symptoms and not the disease. One cannibal walking another with sleeping sickness doesn't cure anything. But now I know we're semi-mechanics, semi-engineers, semi-inventors, semi lots of other things, but certainly not even semi-psychiatrists. "You know, Henry, not all of our Cures are so—so—not all are like that. If anybody does see that button in a patient's ear, it looks like a hearing aid. Yet for a nominal sum, the patient is equipped to hear the soothing recorded voice of his mother saying, 'It's all right, everything's all right, Mommy loves you, it's all right....'" 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." But what about the severe case where we have to burn a three-dimensional smiling mother-image on the eyes of the patient with radiation? 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? Why, he'll turn violently schizophrenic sooner or later—and you know it. 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. 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. People take one look at your Cure and don't ask you to go walking in the rain. The Cures were supposed to save lives, not endanger them. It can't be removed without causing my death and it's indestructible. Men hide in the comforts of insanity, but when faced with death, they are often forced back to reality. Every time he blinks, the amount of polarization changes and a new page appears. A man could cut his wrists with the edge of a sheet of paper if he tried long enough, so of course the Bible would be imaginary.
 They still live with a specific fear
 They are only partially cured  They still live with a specific fear  They do not possess any phobias  They are easily manipulated