he recognized, but many others he did not remember. He tried to sound out 
some of the longer words, but it was hard, as if his memories were hidden behind 
gauze curtains. "Biology," he eventually said. It meant nothing to him, no more
than a group of sounds. He suddenly realized only too clearly what iconerate 
meant. If someone had said to him, "Peter, go get all the chips with the word
biology on them," he could have done so. He didn’t have to know what the word
meant; he didn’t have to know the word’s implications.