Bedside Manner

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  BEDSIDE MANNER

  By WILLIAM MORRISON

  Illustrated by VIDMER

  [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science FictionMay 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]

  [Sidenote: Broken, helpless, she had to trust an alien doctor to giveher back her body and mind--a doctor who had never seen a human before!]

  She awoke, and didn't even wonder where she was.

  First there were feelings--a feeling of existence, a sense of stillbeing alive when she should be dead, an awareness of pain that made herbody its playground.

  After that, there came a thought. It was a simple thought, and her mindblurted it out before she could stop it: _Oh, God, now I won't even beplain any more. I'll be ugly._

  The thought sent a wave of panic coursing through her, but she was tootired to experience any emotion for long, and she soon drowsed off.

  Later, the second time she awoke, she wondered where she was.

  There was no way of telling. Around her all was black and quiet. Theblackness was solid, the quiet absolute. She was aware of painagain--not sharp pain this time, but dull, spread throughout her body.Her legs ached; so did her arms. She tried to lift them, and found toher surprise that they did not respond. She tried to flex her fingers,and failed.

  She was paralyzed. She could not move a muscle of her body.

  The silence was so complete that it was frightening. Not a whisper ofsound reached her. She had been on a spaceship, but none of a ship'snoises came to her now. Not the creak of an expanding joint, nor theoccasional slap of metal on metal. Not the sound of Fred's voice, noreven the slow rhythm of her own breathing.

  It took her a full minute to figure out why, and when she had done soshe did not believe it. But the thought persisted, and soon she knewthat it was true.

  The silence was complete because she was deaf.

  Another thought: The blackness was so deep because she was blind.

  And still another, this time a questioning one: Why, if she could feelpain in her arms and legs, could she not move them? What strange form ofparalysis was this?

  She fought against the answer, but slowly, inescapably, it formed in hermind. She was not paralyzed at all. She could not move her arms and legsbecause she had none. The pains she felt were phantom pains, conveyed bythe nerve endings without an external stimulus.

  When this thought penetrated, she fainted. Her mind sought inunconsciousness to get as close to death as it could.

  * * * * *

  When she awoke, it was against her will. She sought desperately to closeher mind against thought and feeling, just as her eyes and ears werealready closed.

  But thoughts crept in despite her. Why was she alive? Why hadn't shedied in the crash?

  Fred must certainly have been killed. The asteroid had come into viewsuddenly; there had been no chance of avoiding it. It had been a miraclethat she herself had escaped, if escape it could be called--a meresightless, armless and legless torso, with no means of communicationwith the outside world, she was more dead than alive. And she could notbelieve that the miracle had been repeated with Fred.

  It was better that way. Fred wouldn't have to look at her andshudder--and he wouldn't have to worry about himself, either. He hadalways been a handsome man, and it would have killed him a second timeto find himself maimed and horrible.

  She must find a way to join him, to kill herself. It would be difficult,no doubt, without arms or legs, without any way of knowing hersurroundings; but sooner or later she would think of a way. She hadheard somewhere of people strangling themselves by swallowing their owntongues, and the thought cheered her. She could at least try that rightnow. She could--

  No, she couldn't. She hadn't realized it before, but she had no tongue.

  She didn't black out at this sudden awareness of a new horror, althoughshe desperately wanted to. She thought: _I can make an effort of will, Ican force myself to die. Die, you fool, you helpless lump of flesh. Dieand end your torture, die, die, die...._

  But she didn't. And after a while, a new thought came to her: She andFred had been the only ones on their ship; there had been no other shipnear them. Who had kept her from dying? Who had taken her crushed bodyand stopped the flow of blood and tended her wounds and kept her alive?And for what purpose?

  The silence gave no answer. Nor did her own mind.

  After an age, she slept again.

  When she awoke, a voice said, "Do you feel better?"

  * * * * *

  I _can hear_! she shouted to herself. _It's a strange voice, a mostunusual accent. I couldn't possibly have imagined it. I'm not deaf!Maybe I'm not blind either! Maybe I just had a nightmare_--

  "I know that you cannot answer. But do not fear. You will soon be ableto speak again."

  Who was it? Not a man's voice, nor a woman's. It was curiously hoarse,and yet clear enough. Uninflected, and yet pleasant. A doctor? Wherecould a doctor have come from?

  "Your husband is also alive. Fortunately, we reached both of you atabout the time death had just begun."

  Fortunately? She felt a flash of rage. _You should have let us die. Itwould be bad enough to be alive by myself, a helpless cripple dependentupon others. But to know that Fred is alive too is worse. To know thathe has a picture of me like this, ugly and horrifying, is more than Ican stand. With any other man it would be bad enough, but with Fred it'sunendurable. Give me back the ability to talk, and the first thing I'llask of you is to kill me. I don't want to live._

  "It may reassure you to know that there will be no difficulty aboutrecovering the use of the limbs proper to you, and the organs ofsensation. It will take time, but there is no doubt about the finaloutcome."

  What nonsense, she asked herself, was this? Doctors had done wonders inthe creation and fitting of artificial arms and legs, but he seemed tobe promising her the use of _real_ limbs. And he had said, "organs ofsensation." That didn't sound as if he meant that she'd see and hearelectronically. It meant--

  Nonsense. He was making a promise he couldn't keep. He was just sayingthat to make her feel better, the way doctors did. He was saying it togive her courage, keep her morale up, make her feel that it was worthfighting. But it _wasn't_ worth fighting. She had no courage to keep up.She wanted only to die.

  "Perhaps you have already realized that I am not what you would callhuman. However, I suggest that you do not worry too much about that. Ishall have no difficulty in reconstructing you properly according toyour own standards."

  * * * * *

  Then the voice ceased, and she was left alone. It was just as well, shethought. He had said too much. And she couldn't answer, nor askquestions of her own ... and she had so many.

  He wasn't human? Then what was he? And how did he come to speak a humanlanguage? And what did he mean to do with her after he had reconstructedher? And what would she look like after she was reconstructed?

  There were races, she knew, that had no sense of beauty. Or if they hadone, it wasn't like a human sense of beauty. Would he consider herproperly reconstructed if he gave her the right number of arms and legs,and artificial organs of sight that acted like eyes--and made her looklike some creature out of Hell? Would he be proud of his handiwork, ashuman doctors had been known to be, when their patients ended up aliveand helpless, their bodies scarred, their organs functioning feebly andimperfectly? Would he turn her into something that Fred would look atwith abhorrence and disgust?

  Fred h
ad always been a little too sensitive to beauty in women. He hadbeen able to pick and choose at his will, and until he had met her hehad always chosen on the basis of looks alone. She had never understoodwhy he had married her. Perhaps the fact that she was the one woman heknew who _wasn't_ beautiful had made her stand out. Perhaps, too, shetold herself, there was a touch of cruelty in his choice. He might havewanted someone who wasn't too sure of herself, someone he could count onunder all circumstances. She remembered how people had used to stare atthem--the handsome man and the plain woman--and then whisper amongthemselves, wondering openly how he had ever come to marry her. Fred hadliked that; she was sure he had liked that.

  He had obviously _wanted_ a plain wife. Now he would have an ugly one.Would he want _that_?

  She slept on her questions, and waked and slept repeatedly. And then,one day, she heard the voice again. And to her surprise, she found thatshe could answer back--slowly, uncertainly, at times painfully. But shecould