I poured Franklin another cup of coffee and he looked at me, his big eyes pleading. The deadheads always look like that when we reach this point. The… - Robert Sheckley

A tremor ran through him. He had chosen, he reminded himself. He alone was responsible. The psychological test had proved that.
And yet, how responsible were the psychologists who had given him the test? How responsible was Mike Terry for offering a poor man so much money? Society had woven the noose and put it around his neck, and he was hanging himself with it, and calling it free will.

Could he be an imposter?" the venerable priest mused. "No, I suppose not. So he must be from some other universe. That's the usual explanation for the inexplicable.

“For information concerning the afterlife,” Miss Ophelia said, “kindly contact your nearest priest, minister, rabbi, mullah or anyone else on the accredited list of God’s representatives. Thank you for calling.”
There was a sweet tinkle of chimes. Then the line went dead.
“What did the Big Fellow say?” asked General Muller.
“All I got was double-talk from his secretary.”
“Personally, I don’t believe in superstitions like God,” General Muller said. “Even if it happens to be true, I find it healthier not to believe. Shall we get on with it?”
They got on with it.