I'm getting outof here. And I'm not your man and I never will be. When you can admitthat, and not act like I'm a set of chalkmarks on a blackboard, sendme a letter and tell me about it. One side, dogface!"
One big fellow, just the right size, puffed out his cheeks. "Just whomdo you think you are addressing?"
Whom. I looked him over. I never did like people who wore van Dykegoatees. I put whom and van Dyke on the floor. It was a goodDonnybrook while it lasted. The last thing I remember was the gong inthe next room clanging steadily while Stein, good old Stein, right inthere beside me was swinging and yelling, "Don't hurt him! Don't hurthim!"
I woke up with another headache. When I sat up with a grunt and lookedaround I saw Stein and his nose four inches from a mirror, gingerlytrying his tongue against his front teeth. I snickered. He didn't likethat, and turned around.
"You don't look so hot yourself."
He was right. I couldn't see much out of my left eye. We grinned ateach other. "Right in there pitching, weren't you?"
He shrugged. "What did you expect me to do?"
"Run for help," I told him. "Or stand there and watch me get a goingover."
"Sure." He looked uncomfortable. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on you."
"So you did." I thought back. "What happened to Whom when I addressedhim properly?"
It must have hurt his cheek when he tried to smile. "Still out, atlast report. You know, Pete, you have a fairly good left--and a lousytemper."
I knew that. "I just got tired of getting pushed around. Besides, withno pants I was stuck to that chair."
"Probably." His tongue pushed gently against his sore lip. "You thinkthat was the right way to go about making things better?"
Maybe not. But did he have any better ideas?
He wasn't sure, but he didn't think a laboratory was just the rightplace for a brawl.
"Just why I started it. Now what?"
He didn't know that either. "Kellner is having hysterics, and I justmade some phone calls."
If the Old Man showed up I had some nice words ready to use. "Now wemight get some action."
Stein gave me a sour look. "Not necessarily the kind you'll like. I'llbe back after I try to talk some sense into Kellner."
"Hey!" I yelled after him. "Where's my pants?"
"Back in a few minutes," he tossed over his shoulder; "make yourselfcomfortable," and he left.
* * * * *
Comfortable with a cot and a mirror and a washbowl. I washed my faceand lay on the cot with a washrag soaked in cold water on my throbbingeye. I must have dozed off. When I woke the Old Man was standing overme. I sat up and the rag fell off my eye.
"What's cooking, Bossman?"
I don't think his frown was completely genuine. "You, apparently."
I swung my legs over the edge of the cot and stretched. "Have a seatand a cigarette."
He sat down beside me and reached for his lighter. "Peter, I wish--"
I cut in on him. "Item one, I want my pants."
He gestured impatiently. "You'll get them. Now--"
"I said, I want my pants."
He began to get annoyed. "I told you--"
"And I told you I want my pants. I don't want them later or in awhile; I want my pants and I want them now."
He sat back and looked at me. "What's all this?"
I let fly. "For the record, I want my pants. I'm certainly no patientin this morgue, and I'm not going to be treated like one, so whateveryou or anyone else has got to say to me is not going to be while I'mas bare as a baby. My mind's made up," and I scrunched togetherungracefully on the little space that remained on my end of the cotand pulled the sheet over my head. Kid stuff, and we both knew it.
He didn't say anything, although I could feel his eyes boring throughthe flimsy sheet, and I lay there until I felt the springs creak as hegot up and I could hear his footsteps retreating. When he came backwith my clothes over his arm I was sitting up. While I was dressing hetried to talk to me, but I would have none of it.
When I was dressed I said, "Now, you were saying--?"
I drew a long speculative stare. "Peter, what's eating you?"
I told him. "I just got tired of being shoved around. With thephysical exam over with you give me one reason why I should sit aroundin my bare hide. Am I a machine? My name's Miller, not the Patient inCell Two."
He thought he was being reasonable. "And you think you get results byknocking around people that are trying to help you?"
"With some people, you do. I tried talking, and that didn't work. Igot action my way, didn't I?"
He sighed. "Action, yes. Do you know what Kellner said?"
"Not interested. Whatever he's got to say to me is going to have aplease in front and a thank you after."
Wearily, "Peter, must you always act like a child?"
"No, I don't," I blazed at him. "But I'm damn well going to. I'm free,white and a citizen, and I'm going to be treated like one, and not aside-show freak!"
"Now, now," he soothed. "Doctor Kellner is a very famous and a verybusy man. He might not have realized--"
"Realize your hat! He's so used to living in the clouds he thinks theworld is one big moron. Well, I may be one, but no one is going totell me I am!"
"I see your point," and he stood up. "But you try to be a little morecooperative. I'll see Kellner now," and he started out.
"Cooperative?" I bellowed at his back. "What do you think I've beendoing? What do you--"
* * * * *
He must have read the riot act. When they took me in to Kellner andhis crew it was "please, Mr. Miller" and "thank you, Mr. Miller." Theplace didn't seem so cold and bare so long as I had my pants. I didn'tsee Whom and his van Dyke, but I hoped it was the tile floor and notme that gave him the concussion.
The rest of the tests, you can imagine, were almost anticlimactic. Istopped motors, blew tubes, turned lights off and on, rang bells andcooked the insulation on yards and yards of wire. My head they keptconnected with taped terminals and every time I blew a fuse or a motorthey would see the dials spin crazily. Then they would stand aroundclucking and chattering desperately. They took X-rays by the score, hopingto find something wrong with the shape of my head, and for all the resultsthey got, might have been using a Brownie on a cue ball. Then they'd backoff to the corner and sulk. One little bearded rascal, in particular, tothis day is certain that Kellner was risking his life in getting withinten feet. He never turned his back on me that I recall; he sidled around,afraid I would set his watch to running backwards. You know, one of thefunniest and yet one of the most pathetic things in the world is thespectacle of someone who has spent his life in mastering a subject, onlyto find that he has built a sled without runners. Long before we werefinished I thought Kellner, for one, was going to eat his tie, stripes andall. Running around in ever-widening circles they were, like coon dogsafter a scent. They didn't get a smell. The medico who ran theelectro-cardiograph refused to make sense, after the fifth trials, out ofthe wiggly marks on his graphs.
"Kellner," he stated flatly, "I don't know just what your game is, butthese readings are not true."
Kellner didn't like that. Nor did he like the man who wanted to shavemy head. I wouldn't let them do that. I look bad enough now. Icompromised by letting them soak my head in what smelled like water,and then tying or pasting strands of tape all over my scalp. A prettymess I was, as bad as a woman getting a permanent wave. Worse. Onewhole day I stood for that. This specialist, whatever he did, hadKellner get me to run through my repertoire of bells and fans andbuzzers while he peered nearsightedly at his elaborate tool shop. Whenthe fuse would blow or the bell would ring, the specialist would winceas though he were pinched. Kellner stood over his shoulder saying atintervals, "What do you get? What do you get?" Kellner finally got it.The specialist stood up, swore in Platt-deutsch, some at Kellner andsome at me and some at his machine, and left in all directions. Thegist of it was that he was too important
and too busy to have jokesplayed on him. Kellner just wagged his head and walked out.
The Old Man said, "You're not one bit different from anyone else."
"Sure," I said. "I could have told you that long ago. It shouldn'ttake a doctor."
"Miller, what in blazes are we going to do with you?"
I didn't know. I'd done my share. "Where do we go from here?"
The Old Man looked out the window.