He said coldly, "You mentioned this over the phone, did you not? If you
would merely walk on instead of bickering, you would find the doctor
already here."
* * * * *
Plasma and antibiotics: They flowed into Benedetto from half a dozen
plastic tubes like oil into the hold of a tanker. And I could see, in
the moments when I watched, the color come back into his face, and the
sunken eyes seem to come back to life.
The doctor gave him a sedative that made him sleep, and explained to
us that Benedetto was an old man for such goings-on. But if he could be
kept still for three or four weeks, the doctor said, counting the lire
Zorchi's secretary paid him, there was no great danger.
If he could be kept still for three or four weeks. In scarcely ten
days, the atmosphere of the planet would be death to breathe! Many
things might happen to Benedetto in that time, but remaining still was
not one of them.
Zorchi retired to his own quarters, once the doctor was gone, and Rena
and I left Benedetto to sleep.
We found a television set and turned it on, listening for word of
the cobalt-bomb. We got recorded _canzoni_ sung by a reedy tenor. We
dialed, and found the Neapolitan equivalent of a soap opera, complete
with the wise, fat old mother and the sobbing new daughter-in-law. It
was like that on all the stations, while Rena and I stared at each
other in disbelief.
Finally, at the regular hourly newscast, we got a flicker: "An
unidentified explosion," the announcer was saying, "far out at sea,
caused alarm to many persons last night. Although the origins are not
known, it is thought that there is no danger. However, there has been
temporary disturbance to all long-lines communications, and air travel
is grounded while the explosion is being investigated."
We switched to the radio: it was true. Only the UHF television bands
were on the air.
I said, "I can't figure that. If there's enough disturbance to ruin
long-distance transmission, it ought to show up on the television."
Rena said doubtfully, "I do not remember for sure, Tom, but is there
not something about television which limits its distance?"
"Well--I suppose so, yes. It's a line of sight transmission, on these
frequencies at any rate. I don't suppose it has to be, except that all
the television bands fall in VHF or UHF channels."
"Yes. And then, is it not possible that only the distance transmission
is interrupted? On purpose, I mean?"
I slammed my hand on the arm of the chair. "On purpose! The
Company--they are trying to keep this thing localized. But the idiots,
don't they know that's impossible? Does Defoe think he can let the
world burn up without doing anything to stop it--just by keeping the
people from knowing what happened?"