_Karen._
"What?"
_You said something the other day that made me wonder. You said,
"Please get well." What did you mean by that?_
She hesitated for perhaps a fraction of a second. "Professional pride,
I guess. And maybe it was just the thing to say."
_Oh._ He was silent for a while. _Then these experiments haven't worked
out too well in the past._ It was more of a statement than a question.
He thought he detected a tightness in her voice. "George, you might
as well know. You're the first man to have ever progressed this far
without going hopelessly insane."
_It's nice to know I'm not hopeless._
Silence.
_I'm sorry, Karen. Maybe I talk too much._
"Would you like to hear some music?" Her voice was normal again,
soothing.
_That would be nice. As long as it's relaxing. Something by Debussy, or
Beethoven, maybe. And please, Karen, accept my apologies for mouthing
off like that._
She laughed, softly. "We seem to be forgetting. _You're_ supposed to
be the patient. Will you settle for Gershwin while I go hunt up some
classical stuff?"
_Gladly, sweetheart. Play it softly, huh?_
* * * * *
_Karen._
"Yes, George."
_You know more than I do what it's best for a patient to learn. Can you
tell me all about the setup here?_
"Just what is it you want to know?"
_My body--I mean my new body. How do they build a human body?_
She laughed softly. "They don't," she said. "Medical science can do
many things, George, but they can't really _build_ a body."
_But you said_--
"They can grow one to order, almost. You know what cancer is, don't
you?"
_Yes._
"Well, the doctors here use what they sometimes call 'controlled
cancer'--to grow the human body. That way, they can do in months what
it takes Nature years to accomplish."
George puzzled over this for a moment. If he had had eyebrows, there
would have been a frown on his face. If he had a face.
_You mean--some other human being gives up his brain to make room for
me?_
"No, George. It doesn't have a brain. It's just a body, with a small
lump at the top of the spinal cord that controls the muscles." Her
voice was patient, yet urgent. He had to understand. "You see," she
continued, "because of the enormous rate of growth of the rest of the
body, the brain--or the mind--doesn't have a chance to develop. The
body has no personality--no _being_ of its own. It's your body, George.
Yours alone."
He was silent for a long time, thinking. Considering the possibilities
of a new body. It'll be mine, he told himself, all mine. To taste and
hear and feel and smell. To get cold, or warm--to sweat! To walk, to
swim, to touch her hand--to see her--to see Karen! To see Karen, who is
just a voice; to take her dancing! _How soon can I be in this body?_
"It'll be six months, anyway, George." Her voice seemed to be saying,
"Please be patient," just by the tone of it.
_Six months! Cooped up in this--this fishbowl!--for six months more?_
"I'm sorry, George. You won't be alone, though--I'll stay with you.
That is, if you want me."
He began to laugh. He laughed uproariously. He didn't care that the
translator made his laugh into a horrible thing that grated in her
ears. Part of the time his laugh was a sob, but it was all the same to
the translator.
_Do you mind if I call you Mom?_ There was a catch in his voice. _When
I was a kid I used to rely on my mother like this! I've never been so
dependent upon another woman in all my life! If I want you! I need you,
Karen. Don't leave me!_
"I won't leave you, George--" He had the feeling there was something
else she wanted to say, but she didn't.
* * * * *
He could hear her voice faintly now. She wasn't talking to him, and he
had to strain to catch her words.
"He's all right, doctor. For the past few days all he's wanted to talk
about is his body. I've been telling him anything he wants to know."
George could barely make out a mumbled answer. It was too far away to
hear the words.
"Play the tape, doctor. You'll see what I mean."
He mustn't let her know he had overheard. He had forgotten all about
this being put on tape. He'd have to watch his words from now on. She
must have thought she had turned the microphone off when the doctor
came in. Mentally, George smiled.
* * * * *
_Karen._
No answer.
_Karen!_
Silence.
_Karen, can you hear me?_
Where in the name of heaven did that woman go? Has she left me? Maybe
they gave me up for dead.
_Karen._ I've been sleeping--or day-dreaming. Or maybe it's the middle
of the night. Maybe she's asleep. Maybe she's gone.
_Karen!_ She must be asleep. Or maybe she's dead. Or maybe there's a
loose connection in the wiring.
_Karen!_ No answer. Nothing but that deep, dead silence. _Karen!
Testing. Testing. One, two, three--Testing. Karen. Where are you? Can
you hear me, Karen? Karen!_
It seemed like several eternities before she answered.
"George?"
He would have breathed a sigh of relief, if he could.
_I thought you'd deserted me. Were you asleep?_