Cue for Quiet

clearing thebreakfast coffee. For that time of day he was disgustingly happy.

  "The customary greeting, I believe, is good morning, is it not?"

  I gulped the rest of my cup. "Yeah. What's on your mind?"

  He sat down and waved away Stein's wordless offer of a cup. "How wouldwe like to take a little trip?"

  We. The editorial we. "Why not?"

  "This little trip--how would you like to go back home for awhile?"

  "Home?" I couldn't believe my ears, and I stared at him.

  He'd made a slip, and he was sorry. "I meant, back Stateside."

  I slumped back in my chair. "Then you heard me the first time. What'sthe difference?"

  "Quite a bit of difference. No, Stein, you stay here. We're all inthis together."

  "Sure," I said. "Stick around. I'm the last one to find out what'sgoing on around here."

  He didn't appreciate my sarcasm. "I wouldn't say that, Peter."

  "Forget it. What's the story?"

  "We want you to go back where we can run some tests, this time ascomprehensive as we can arrange."

  I couldn't see why what we'd done wouldn't be enough. "Don't tell meyou have more than the Bomb up your sleeve."

  No, it wasn't like that. "There aren't more than four or six that knowanything but that the Bomb was set off prematurely because of motorfailure on the drone. The general knowledge is that it was justanother test in routine fashion. But, as I said, there are a few thatknow the truth. They think it desirable that you be examinedscientifically, and completely."

  "Why?" I felt ornery.

  He knew it, and showed a little impatience. "Use your head, Peter. Youknow better than that. We know you're unique. We want to know why, andperhaps how, perhaps, your ability can be duplicated."

  That appealed to me. "And if you can find out what makes me tick I cango back to living like myself again?" I took his silence for assent. Ihad to. "Good. What do I do, and when?"

  He shrugged. "Nothing, yet. You'll go to ... well, let's call itcollege. It shouldn't take too long. A week, maybe, maybe two, orfour, at the most."

  "Then what?"

  He didn't know. We'd talk about that later. Okay with me. If a doctorcould find out how I was whistling chords, all well and good. Ifnot--could I be any worse off?

  "Then it's settled. We'll leave today, if it can be arranged, and Ifeel sure it can. Robert--" to Stein--"if you'll come with me we'lltry to make the necessary arrangements." Stein left, and Smith left,and I got up and looked into the mirror. I needed a shave again.

  * * * * *

  My college didn't have a laboratory worth counting when I went toschool. We'd had a stadium, and a losing football team instead. Nowthe balding, bearded physicists sat in the front row when theappropriations were spooned out. I suppose that's all for the better.I really wouldn't know. The old fellow that met us at the front doorlooked like an airedale, and like an airedale he sniffed all around mebefore getting into combat range.

  "So you're Peter Miller!"

  "That's my name," I admitted. I wondered what all the dials and thegadgets were for. It looked to me like the front end of one of thesecomputers I used to see in the magazines.

  "I'm Kellner. You must be Stein, right? Never mind your coats. Justfollow me," and off he trotted, and we trailed him into a bare officewith what looked like the equipment of a spendthrift dentist.

  "You sit here," and he waved at a straightbacked chair. I sat down,Stein shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and in a momentKellner came back with a dozen others. He didn't bother to introduceany of them. They all stood off and gaped at who'd killed Cock Robin.

  Kellner broke the silence. "Physical first?" There was a general nod."Physical, psychological, then--we'll come to that later." To Stein:"Want to come along? Rather wait here? This is going to take sometime, you know."

  Stein knew that. He also wanted to come along. Those were his orders.

  I felt self-conscious taking off my clothes in front of that ghoulishcrew. The sheet they left me kept off no drafts, and I felt like acorpse ready for the embalmer, and likely appeared one. Stethoscope, ascale for my weight, a tape for my arm and the blood pressure, lightsthat blinked in my eyes and bells that rang in my ear ... when theywere finished with me I felt like a used Tinker-Toy.

  "Do I pass? Will I live?"

  Kellner didn't like juvenile humor. He turned me over to anothergroup who, so help me, brought out a box of children's blocks to puttogether, timing me with a stopwatch. They used the same stopwatch totime how long it took me to come up with answers to some of thesilliest questions I ever heard outside of a nursery. Now I know whythey label well the patients in an insane asylum. The man with thewatch galloped off and came back with Kellner and they all stoodaround muttering. The sheet and I were sticking to the chair.

  "Kellner. Doctor Kellner!" They didn't like me to break up thekaffeeklatch. "Can I go now? Are you all through?"

  "All through?" The airedale changed to a cackling Rhode Island Red."Joseph, you are just beginning."

  "My name isn't Joseph, Dr. Kellner. It's Miller. Peter AmbroseMiller."

  "Excuse me, Peter," and he cackled again. "Nevertheless, you're goingto be here quite awhile."

  Peter, hey? No more, Mr. Miller. Pete to my wife, Peter to my mother,and Peter to every school teacher I ever had.

  * * * * *

  They conferred awhile longer and the party broke up. Kellner and agawkish Great Dane led me sheet and all to what I thought would be theoperating room. It looked like one. I found a chair all by myself thistime, and watched them hook up an electric fan. They were hipped onfans, I thought.

  Kellner trotted over. "Stop that fan." Not, please stop that fan.Just, stop that fan.

  I shivered ostentatiously. "I'm cold."

  Kellner was annoyed. "Perfectly comfortable in here." Sure, you oldgoat, you got your pants on. "Come, let's not delay. Stop the fan."

  I told him I was still cold, and I looked at the fan. It threw sparks,and the long cord smoked. I was going to fix those boys.

  The other man yanked the cord from the wall, and from the way hesucked his fingers, it must have been hot. Kellner was pleased atthat. He ignored the man's sore fingers and snarled at him until hebrought out some dry cells and hooked them in series to a large bell,almost a gong. He pressed the button and it clanged.

  "All right," and Kellner motioned imperiously to me. "No point infooling. We know you can make it stop ringing. Now, go ahead and ringthe bell."

  I looked at him. "Make the bell ring what?"

  "What?" He was genuinely puzzled. "What's this?"

  "I said make the bell ring what?" He stared blankly at me. "And youheard me the first time!" He shot an astonished glance at Stein. "Oh,hell!" I got up and started out, trailing my sheet. I almost stumbledover Stein, who was right at my shoulder.

  "Here, what's this?" Kellner was bouncing with excitement.

  I turned on him. "Listen you; I said I was cold. Not once, but twice Isaid I was cold. Now, blast it, I want my clothes, and I want themnow. Right now!" The airedale became a fish out of water. "Do I looklike a ten-year-old in to get his tonsils out? I ask you a civilquestion and you smirk at me, you tell me to do this and you tell meto do that and never a please or a thank you or a kiss my foot. Don'tpull that Doctor write the prescription in Latin on me, because Idon't like it! Catch?" Stein was right on my heel when I headed forthe door.

  Poor Stein was wailing aloud. "Pete, you can't do this! Don't you knowwho Doctor Kellner is?"

  "One big healthy pain!" I snapped at him. "Does he know who I am? I'mPete Miller, Mister Miller to him or to anyone but my friends. I wantmy pants!"

  Stein wrung his hands and slowed me down as much as I would let him."You just can't get up and walk out like that!"

  "Oh, no?" I came to a full stop and leered at him. "Who's going tostop me?"

  That's the trouble with the doctors and lawyers and technica
l boys;they're so used to talking over people's heads they can't answer acivil question in less than forty syllables. Keep all the secrets inthe trade. Write it in Latin, keep the patient in the dark, pat hishead and tell him papa knows best.

  When Kellner caught up with us he had help. "Here, here, my man. Wheredo you think you are going?"

  I wished he was my age and forty pounds heavier. "Me?