[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction
June 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Sidenote: Jadiver objected to being the greatest influence for good on
Venus ... because what was good for Venus was bad for Jadiver!]
Somebody was wrapping him in a sheet of ice and spice. Somebody was
pulling it tight so that his toes ached and his fingers tingled. He
still had fingers, and eyes too. He opened his eyes and they turned in
opposite directions and couldn't focus on what they saw. He made an
effort, but couldn't keep it up and had to let his eyes flutter shut
again.
"Rest. You're all right." That's where he got the idea of ice and
spice--from that voice.
"Mmmm," said Jadiver. He tried to raise his hand, but it wouldn't move.
It was good advice--to rest; he couldn't do otherwise. "What happened?"
he whispered.
"You had an accident. Remember?"
He didn't. It was his mind playing tricks, of course. It couldn't have
been pleasant if his memory didn't have access to it.
"Mmmm," he evaded.
"Go to sleep. We'll talk later."
He thought he felt something shoved deep in his flesh, but he may have
been wrong. In any event, the light that filtered through his closed
eyelids faded away and the external world, of which there wasn't much in
the first place, vanished completely.
* * * * *
Later, he awakened. How much later, he didn't know, but it may have been
days. The oppressive languor had left him and he felt capable of
movement. To prove it to himself, he turned his head. He was alone, and
he thought he recognized where he was. He didn't like it.
There was an odor in the room, but this time it was the kind that
lingers in all hospitals. He tried to sit up, but that was more than he
could manage. He lay there a long time, looking through the heavily
reinforced window; then someone came in.
"You'll live," said the voice behind him--the same voice.
"Think so?" He hadn't intended to turn around, but the spice was back
and he wanted to see. It was only the fragrance she wore--there was none
in her voice or demeanor. That was still ice.
When she sat down, he could see that her hair was a shade of copper and
the uniform she wore a dark green. She was not a robot and therefore not
a nurse or a guard. It was logical to assume she was a doctor, police
variety--definitely the police.