Macklin was playing jacks.
He didn't have a head on his shoulders and he was squatting on a great
curving surface that was Spacetime, and his jacks were Earth and Pluto
and the rest of the planets. And for a ball he was using a head. Not
his head. Mitchell's. Both heads were initialed "M" so it was all the
same.
Mitchell forced himself to awaken, with some initial difficulty.
He lay there, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, listening to his
heart race, and then convulsively snatched the telephone receiver from
the nightstand. He stabbed out a number with a vicious index finger.
After a time there came a dull click and a sleepy answer.
"Hello?" Elliot Macklin said.
Mitchell smiled to himself. He was in luck; Macklin had answered the
phone instead of his wife.
"Can you speak freely, doctor?" Mitchell asked.
"Of course," the mathematician said. "I can talk fine."
"I mean, are you alone?"
"Oh, you want to know if my wife is around. No, she's asleep. That Army
doctor, Colonel Sidney, he gave her a sedative. I wouldn't let him give
me anything, though."
"Good boy," the biologist said. "Listen, doctor--Elliot--El, old son.
I'm not against you like all the others. I don't want to make you go
back to all that worrying and thinking and headaches. You believe me,
don't you?"
There was a slight hesitation.
"Sure," Macklin said, "if you say so. Why shouldn't I believe you?"
"But there was a hesitation there, El. You worried for just a second if
I could have some reason for not telling you the truth."
"I suppose so," Macklin said humbly.
"You've found yourself worrying--thinking--about a lot of other
problems since we left you, haven't you? Maybe not the same kind of
scientific problem. But more personal ones, ones you didn't used to
have time to think about."
"If you say so."
"Now, you know it's so. But how would you like to get rid of those
worries just as you got rid of the others?" Mitchell asked.
"I guess I'd like that," the mathematician replied.
"Then come on over to my laboratory. You remember where it's at, don't
you?"
"No, I--yes, I guess I do. But how do I know you won't try to put me
back where I was instead of helping me more?"
"I couldn't do that against your wishes. That would be illegal!"
"If you say so. But I don't guess I can come anyway. The Army is
watching me pretty close."
"That's alright," Mitchell said quickly. "You can bring along Colonel
Carson."
"But he won't like you fixing me up more."
"But he can't stop me! Not if you want me to do it. Now listen to me--I
want you to come right on over here, El."
"If you say so," Macklin said uncertainly.
* * * * *
Mitchell opened the door on the first knock.
Macklin stood in the doorway, looking uncertain and ill at ease. Carson
stood behind his left shoulder, looking actively belligerent.
"Come in," Mitchell said. "I have the injection ready for you, Doctor."
"Now you aren't going to 'cure' me?" Macklin said in concern. "This is
just going to help ease my mind?"
"Of course," the biologist said soothingly.
Colonel Carson lunged forward, mouth opening ominously.
Mitchell winked at him broadly.
Carson stopped in confusion and studied Mitchell's face. He essayed a
second wink. Carson relaxed.
Mitchell picked up the hypo of colorless carrier fluid from the
interestingly stained work table. "One thing first, Dr. Macklin. I'll
have to have your signed release for this treatment. It specifies that
your intelligence will probably be affected in this effort to keep your
head from troubling you. Carson can witness it."
"Sure," Macklin said. "I guess that's okay. If you say so."
The colonel grinned, his face hot and shiny. "I'm sure it will be fine,
Doctor."
Macklin looked at the officer with almost a trace of suspicion, then
accepted the sheet of typescript and the ballpoint pen from Mitchell.
Laboriously he affixed his signature.
Mitchell had the mathematician take a seat and pressed the needle
directly into the neck area.
"Ouch!" Macklin said.
Mitchell stood back and exhaled.
"It should take effect shortly," the biologist said.
"Good," Carson said....
The cylinders of the electric clock said 4:35:00 A.M.
Macklin was playing with his hands and their shadows in front of his
face.
"How long will this stage last, Dr. Mitchell?" Colonel Carson said in
concern.
"Indefinitely. This is the last stage. The circulatory system of his
brain has been relaxed to the point where he has about the I.Q. of a
turnip."