You heard me bring my bike into the hallway and opened your door, and I carried your groceries on through to your kitchen. You paid me and offered me hot cocoa and—why wasn’t I nervous about Mama? Pop at work and Mr. Wicklund, too; that figured—but where was Mama? Oh, yes, her Sewing Circle afternoon.
So while I drank cocoa and was being polite, you cranked your Victrola and put on a record—uh. “Margie,” it was, and you asked me if I knew how to dance. You taught me to dance all right—on the sofa.
A life-support technician studied an oscilloscope, noted an increase in brain activity, concluded that the patient might be frightened and decided to tranquilize. Johann Smith slipped gently into sleep without knowing it—to the scratchy strains of a mechanical phonograph. He was “fox-trotting,” so she told him. He did not care what it was called; his arm was around her waist, hers was around his neck, her warm clean odor was sweet in his nostrils. Presently she seduced him.
After a long, ecstatic, and utterly satisfying time he said, “Eunice honey, I didn’t know you could fox-trot.”
She smiled into his eyes. “You never asked me, Boss. Can you reach past me and shut off the Victrola?”
“Sure, Mrs. Wicklund.”
6
Johann Smith became aware that this limbo was no longer featureless—head resting on something, mouth unpleasantly dry and felt crowded, as if with the sort of junk a dental surgeon inflicts on his victims. There was still total blackness but not quite dead silence. A sucking noise—
Any sensation was most welcome. Johann shouted, “Hey! I lived through it!”
Two rooms away the monitoring technician on watch jumped up so fast he knocked over his chair. “Patient’s trying to articulate! Get Dr. Brenner!”
Brenner answered quietly over the voice monitor. “I’m with the patient, Cliff. Get a team in here. And notify Dr. Hedrick and Dr. Garcia.”
“Right away!”
Johann said, “Hey, damn it! Isn’t anybody here?” The words came out as incoherent grunts.
The Doctor touched a wand speaker to the patient’s teeth, held the microphone hooked to it against his own throat. “Mr. Smith, do you hear me?”
The patient mumbled again, louder and more forcefully. The Doctor answered, “Mr. Smith, I’m sorry but I cannot understand you. If you hear me, make one sound. Any sort but just one.”
The patient grunted once.
“Good, wonderful—you can hear me. All right, one sound by itself means Yes; two sounds mean No. If you understand me, answer with two sounds. Two grunts.”
Smith grunted twice.
“Good, now we can talk. One sound for Yes, two for No. Do you hurt?”
Two grunts—“Uh . . . ko!”
“Fine! Now we try something else. Your ears are covered and completely soundproofed; my voice is reaching your inner ears through your teeth and upper jawbone. I’m going to remove part of the covering on your left ear and speak to you that way. The sounds may be painfully loud at first, so I will start with whispers. Understand me?”
One grunt—
Smith felt gentle firmness as something pulled loose. “Do you still hear me?”
“Uh . . . ko—”
“Now do you hear me?”
“Uh . . . ko . ah . ee . . oh . . ee . . . oo . . ow!”
“I think that was a sentence. Don’t try to talk yet. Just one grunt, or two.”
Johann said, “Of course I can’t talk, you damned idiot! Take this junk out of my mouth!” The vowels came through fairly clearly; consonants were distorted or missing.
“Doctor, how the patient can talk with all that gear in the way?”
Brenner said quietly, “Shut up, Nurse. Mr. Smith, we have an aspirator down your throat to keep you from choking on phlegm, drowning in your own saliva. I can’t remove it yet, so try to be patient. Besides that, your eyes are masked. Your eye specialist will decide when that comes off. I can’t—I’m the life-support specialist on duty at the moment, not the physician managing your case; that’s Dr. Hedrick assisted by Dr. Garcia. I can’t do much more than I have till one of them gets here. Are you comfortable? One grunt or two.”
One grunt—
“Good. I’ll stay here with you. And talk to you if you want me to. Do you?”
One grunt—
“Okay, I will. You can talk with more than a Yes or No any time you wish. By spelling. I’ll recite the alphabet, slowly, and you stop me with one grunt when I reach a letter you want. And so on for the next letter, until it’s spelled out. It’s slow…but neither one of us is going anywhere. Want to try it?”
One grunt—
“Good. I’ve had lots of practice at it; I’ve been on many a life-support watch in which the patient could not talk but was awake and perfectly rational. As you are,” the Doctor added, lying hopefully, one eye on the master oscilloscope. “But bored, of course. Very bored—that’s the worst part for a patient in life-support; he’s bored silly, yet we can’t let him sleep all the time; it’s not good for him and sometimes we need his cooperation. All right, any time you want to spell anything, give three distinct grunts and I’ll prove I know my abc’s.”
Three grunts—
“A . . b . . c . . d . . e . . f—” Johann grunted at “r.”
“‘R’?” Dr. Brenner repeated. “Don’t bother to answer if I’m right. Okay, first letter is ‘r.’ A . . b . . c . . d . .—”
The message read: “Right ear.”
“Do you want the plug removed from your right ear?”
One grunt—
Carefully the Doctor removed it. “Testing,” he said. “Cincinnati, sixty-six, Susannah. Are you hearing with both ears? Does my voice seem to move from side to side?”
One grunt, followed by three grunts—
“Okay, spelled message. A . . b . . c—”
Shortly the Doctor said, “‘Nobody’? Is that the first word of your message?”
Double grunt—
“All right, I’ll try again. A . . b—” He was interrupted by a series of grunts, and stopped. “You don’t want me to spell again…yet ‘Nobody’ is not the first word of your message. But I would have sworn that I got it right. ‘Nobody—’ Uh…hey! ‘No…body’—two words?”
One emphatic grunt—
“Are you trying to tell me that you feel as if you had no body? Can’t feel it?”
Grunt—
“Oh! Of course you can’t feel it; you haven’t finished healing. But honestly,” the Doctor went on, lying with the skill of long practice, “your progress has been amazingly fast. Both speech and hearing so soon, that’s wonderfully encouraging. In fact you’ve just won a bet for me. Five hundred,” he went on, still lying, “and at that I demanded more than twice the recovery time you’ve shown. And now I’m going to double my winnings by putting them back and betting that you’ll have full recovery of the use of your whole body in no longer time. Because this is a wonderfully healthy body you have even though you can’t feel it yet. Marvelous repair factor.”
Triple grunt—Then the spelled message was: “How long?”
“How long since your operation? Or how long until you get the use of your whole body?”
Dr. Brenner was saved by the bell. He stopped reciting the alphabet and said, “Half a moment, Mr. Smith; Dr. Hedrick has arrived, I must report. Nurse will stay with you—just let the patient rest, Nurse; this has been tiring.”
Outside the door Dr. Brenner stopped the case-managing physician, saying, “Dr. Hedrick, one moment before you go in. You’ve checked the remotes?”
“Certainly. Awake-normal, apparently.”
“And rational, in my opinion. I have removed the central stopples from both ear pads and we have been talking, spell-and-grunt, killing time until you—”
“I heard you on monitor, assumed you must have opened the ears. You take a lot on yourself, Doctor.”
Dr. Brenner stiffened, then answered coldly, “Doctor—your patient, conceded. But I was here alone a
nd had to use my own judgment. If you wish me to leave the case, you have only to say so.”
“Don’t be so damned touchy, young man. Now let’s go in and see the patient. Our patient.”
“Yes, sir.”
They went inside. Dr. Hedrick said, “I’m Dr. Hedrick, Mr. Smith, physician in charge of your case. Congratulations! Welcome back to our weary world. This is a triumph for everyone—and vindication for a great man, Dr. Boyle.”
Three grunts—
“You wish to spell a message?”
One grunt—
“If you will wait a moment, we will remove some items from your mouth and you can talk instead.” (With great good luck, Hedrick amended to himself—but I never expected the case to progress even this far. That arrogant butcher really is a great man. To my surprise.) “Would that suit you?”
An emphatic grunt—
“Good. Hand aspiration, Dr. Brenner. Adjust those lights, Nurse. Monitor watch! Find out what’s keeping Dr. Feinstein.”
Johann Smith felt hands working rapidly but gently, then Dr. Hedrick said, “Let me check, Doctor. Very well, remove the jaw wedges. Mr. Smith, we will have to aspirate every few moments—I’d rather not have to force you to cough up fluid. Or go after it the hard way. But you may talk if you wish.”
“Aye-gah-aye-hay-dih!”
“Slowly, slowly. You’re having to learn to talk all over again, like a baby. That same remark now—but slowly and carefully.”
“By…God…I…made…it!”
“You surely did. The first man in history to have his brain moved into a new body—and lived through it. And you will go on living. This is a fine body. Healthy.”
“But . can’t . peal—feel—a damn . . thing . from . chin . down.”
“Lucky you,” said the Doctor. “Because we’ve got you restrained all over against the day—soon, I hope”—but never, more likely, he added to himself—“when you will start feeling your entire new body. When that day comes, you may jerk uncontrollably—if we didn’t have you restrained. Then you’ll have to go to work and learn to control your body. Like a new baby. Practice. Possibly long and tedious practice.”
“How…long?”
“I don’t know. Dr. Boyle’s chimps made it rather quickly, I understand. But it might take you as long as it takes a baby to learn to walk. But why worry about that now? You’re got a new body, good for many, many years—why, you might be the first human being to live two hundred years. So don’t be in a hurry. Now rest, please—I’ve got to examine you. Chin screen, Nurse.”
“The patient’s eyes are covered, Doctor.”
“Ah, yes, so they are. Mr. Smith, when Dr. Feinstein arrives, we will see if he wants to expose your eyes to light today. In the meantime—uncover the patient, Nurse.”
Uncovered, the new body was still mostly covered. A plastic corset “iron lung” encased the torso from chin to pubis; arms and legs were strapped and the straps cushioned; urethral and anal catheters were in place and secured; two blood vessels were in use, one for nourishment, the other for monitoring; four others were prepared for use but currently stopped off. Wires were here and there. The body inside this dismal mess could have been one that Michelangelo would have treasured but the assemblage of artifact and protoplasm could seem beautiful only to a medical specialist.
Dr. Hedrick seemed pleased. He took a stylus from his pocket, suddenly scratched the sole of the right foot—got the reflex he expected, got no response from Johann Smith, also as expected.
“Dr. Hedrick?” came a voice from the bed console.
“Yes.”
“Dr. Feinstein is operating.”
“Very well.” He indicated to a nurse that he wanted the body covered. “Did you hear that, Mr. Smith? Your ophthalmologist is in surgery, can’t see you today. Just as well, as you have had enough for one day. It’s time for you to sleep.”
“No. You . . do . . it. My . . eyes.”
“No. We wait for Dr. Feinstein.”
“No! You . are . in . charge.”
“So I am and your eyes won’t be touched until your specialist is present.”
“Damn . . you. Get . . Jake . . Sal . o . mon!”
“Mr. Salomon is in Europe, will be notified that you are awake, and he may possibly be here tomorrow. I couldn’t say. In the meantime I want you to rest. Sleep.”
“Won’t!”
“Ah, but you will.” Dr. Hedrick pointed to Dr. Brenner, nodded. “As you pointed out, I am in charge. Want to know why I am certain you will sleep? Because we are slowing your breathing rate and introducing into your bloodstream a harmless drug that will insure that you do sleep. So good night, Mr. Smith, and again—my congratulations.”
“Damn . . your . . . ins—. insuffera—” Johann Smith slept.
Once he half roused. “Eunice?” (Right here, Boss. Go back to sleep.) He slept on.
7
“Hi, Jake!”
“Hello, Johann. How do you feel?”
“Mean as a fox with its tail in a trap except when these tyrants dope me with something that makes me sweetness-and-light in spite of myself. Where the hell have you been? Why didn’t you come when I sent for you?”
“On vacation. First decent vacation I’ve had in fifteen years. Any objections?”
“Get your feathers down. You do have a nice tan. And taken off a little weight, too, I think. Okay, okay—though I don’t mind saying I was disappointed that you didn’t trot back for a day or two at least when I woke up. Hurt my feelings.”
“Humph! You have no feelings. Never did.”
“Now, Jake—I do so have feelings, just never was one for showing them. But, damn it, I needed you.”
The lawyer shook his head. “You didn’t need me. I know why you thought you did. You wanted me to interfere with Dr. Hedrick’s management of your case. Which I would not have done. So I extended my vacation to avoid useless argument.”
Johann grinned at him. “Always the sly one, Jake. Okay, I’ve never been one to fret about yesterday’s trouble. But now that you’re back—well, Hedrick’s a good doctor…but he’s highhanded with me when it’s not necessary. So we’ll change that. I’ll tell you what I want and you tell Hedrick—and if he balks, you can let him know that he is not indispensable.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘No’?”
“I mean No. Johann, you still require constant medical attention. I haven’t interfered with Dr. Hedrick up to now and the results have been good. I won’t interfere now.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Jake. Sure, sure, you have my interests at heart. But you don’t understand the situation. I’m no longer in a critical condition; I’m convalescent. Look, here’s late news, important. Know what I did this morning during physiotherapy? Moved my right index finger. On purpose, Jake. Know what that means?”
“Means you can bid in an auction. Or signal a waiter.”
“Crab apples. Wiggled my toes a little, too. Jake, in a week I’ll be walking, unassisted. Why, I spend thirty minutes each day now without this lung thing, this corset…and when they put it back on me, it’s simply set to assist, if necessary. But despite all this wonderful progress, I’m still treated like a wired-up laboratory monkey. Allowed to stay awake only a short time each day—hell, they even shave me while I’m asleep and God alone knows what else; I don’t. I’m strapped down every minute that at least six people don’t have their hands on me for physio. If you don’t believe me, lift the sheet and take a look. I’m a prisoner. In my own house.”
Salomon didn’t move. “I believe you.”
“Move that chair around so that I can see you better. They’ve even got my head clamped—now I ask you, is that necessary?”
“No opinion. Ask your doctor.” Salomon stayed where he was.
“I asked you… because I’m fed up with his top-sergeant behavior.”
“And I declined to express an opinion in a field in which I have no competence. Johann, you’re getting we
ll, that’s evident. But only a fool replaces a quarterback who is winning. I never thought you would live through the operation. I don’t think you did, either.”
“Well…truthfully, I didn’t. I was betting my life—literally—on a long gamble. But I won.”
“Then why don’t you try being grateful?—instead of behaving like a spoiled child!”
“Temper, Jake, temper—why, you sound like me.”
“God knows I don’t want to sound like you. But I mean it. Show gratitude. Praise the Lord—and Dr. Hedrick.”
“And Dr. Boyle, Jake. Yes, I am grateful, truly I am. I’ve been snatched back from the edge of death—and now have every reason to expect a wonderful new life—and all I risked was a few more weeks of a life that had grown intolerable.” Johann smiled. “I can’t express how grateful I am, there are no words. My eyes are twenty/twenty again and I’m seeing shades of color I had forgotten existed. I can hear high notes I haven’t heard in years. I get ’em to play symphonies for me and I can follow the piccolo clear up to the roof. And the violins. I can hear all sorts of high sounds now, higher than ever—even my new voice sounds high; he must have been a tenor. And I can smell, Jake—and I lost my last trace of a sense of smell years ago. Nurse, walk past me and let me smell you.”
The nurse, a pretty redhead, smiled, said nothing, did not move from the bed’s console.
Johann went on, “I’m even allowed to eat now, once a day—eat and swallow, I mean, not a blasted tube. Jake, did you know that Cream o’ Wheat tastes better than filet mignon? It can. Hell, everything tastes good now; I had forgotten what fun it is to eat. Jake, it’s so grand to be alive—in this body—that I can’t wait to go out in the country and walk in fields and climb a hill and look at trees and watch birds. And clouds. Sunbathe. Ice-skate, maybe. Square-dance. Ever square-dance, Jake?”