Croyd finished his beer, went back for another, stamping out a line of passing ants along the way.
"Is that where he crossed you up?" she asked.
"Nope, we tried it and it worked," he said. "He was right. So were the other people who'd made guesses along these lines. I told him I wanted to come out looking like Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca — I'd always liked that movie — and when I woke up I was a dead ringer for Bogie."
"Really? And what about a wild card ability? Was he able to do something with that, also?"
Croyd smiled.
"Yes," he said. "It was just a small ability, but for some reason it stuck. Maybe because it was so small it didn't take up much space wherever these things are managed. It followed me through any number of changes. Haven't used it in years, though. Wait a minute."
He raised his beer can, took a slow drink, stared off into the distance.
"Play it, Sam," he said in a strangely altered voice. Then, "Play it!"
The tape recorder clicked to a halt. Then the Play button was depressed. The sounds of a piano playing "As Time Goes By" emerged from the small speaker.
She stared for several moments at the machine, then reached over and turned it off. Immediately, she set it on Record again.
"How — How do you manage it if there's no tape recorder around?"
"Almost anything that can be induced to vibrate in the audible range will do," he said. "I don't know how. Maybe it's even a smaller ability than Hits Mack's."
"So you woke up looking like Rick, and you could provide your own soundtrack whenever you wanted."
"Yes."
"What happened next?"
"He gave me a couple of weeks to enjoy it. Wanted to observe me and be sure there were no undesirable side-effects. I went out and got stopped on the streets and approached in restaurants for autographs. Rudo wrote up his notes. He did send me to some friends for a full physical at that time, too. I still had an abnormally high metabolism and my usual insomnia."
"I wonder whether those notes still exist, somewhere?" she said.
Croyd shrugged.
"Don't know," he said. "Wouldn't matter anyway. I wouldn't want anyone to mess with the process that way again."
"What happened?"
"We saw each other regularly during the next couple of weeks. I went over ideas of what I wanted to look like and what I wanted to be able to do. I didn't want to stay the way I was. It was fun the first few days, but after a while it wears kind of thin, looking like someone famous. I wanted to be sort of average in height and build, sandy-haired, not bad-looking but not real handsome. And I decided on a kind of telepathic persuasive ability I once had. You get in less trouble if you can talk your way out of things. And it could come in handy if I ever wanted to be a salesman. Rudo in the meantime said that he was studying medical literature, looking for anything else that might be useful in my case, to help nail down the change good and tight, to make it permanent. Once, when we were having lunch together, I remember him saying, 'Croyd, for all of that you know you'll still be a caricature of humanity. I just wish it were within my power to wipe out everything that demon bug did to you — wipe out all of the others, too, for that matter — and leave the human race as clean as it was before.'
"'I appreciate everything you're doing, Doc,' I said. 'Seems like you've been devoting almost every waking minute to my case these past few weeks.'
"'I think it's the most important case I've ever had,' he replied.
"'Any new developments on the technical end of things?'
"'Yes, I think there might be a way to reinforce the change by using certain levels of radiation on your nervous system,' he said.
"'Radiation? I thought we were going the purely psychological route through dauerschlaf.'
"'This is some very new stuff,' he said. 'I'm still looking into it.'
"'You're the doctor,' I said. 'Keep me posted.'
"He picked up the tab again. Like always. And he wasn't even charging me for his therapy. Said he looked at it as a service to humanity. Gee, I liked the man."
Mr. Crenson," she said. "The tail."
"Call me Croyd," he said.
"Croyd, I mean it. I don't care if it is a unique experience. This is business."
"Sorry," he said, tail flicking out behind him. "What are you doing tonight? This is a kind of dull place and — "
"I want to hear the rest of the story, Croyd. All this psychological talk's got me thinking maybe this is your way of avoiding it."
"Maybe you're right," he said. "I hadn't thought of that, but you may have a point. Sure. Okay. On with it.
"The days passed and I was really feeling good. I knew I wouldn't be dropping any speed this time around because I wasn't afraid to sleep. I'd seen my life lie — with sleep, madness, and death all twisted together — and I saw that I could face it, that the problem would be gone once the condition was stabilized. And Rudo was going to fix that good, once he'd worked out how this radiation therapy would apply, on top of the dauershlaf.
"One day he asked me to lunch and we took a walk in Central Park afterwards. As we were strolling, with him looking at the landscape as if he wished he were settled somewhere painting it, he said to me, 'Croyd, how much longer have you got?'
"'What do you mean?' I asked.
"'It's time for you to sleep again,' he said.
"'It's hard to tell for sure till I start getting the feeling,' I said. 'But based on past experience I've got at least a week.'
"'I wonder about inducing it beforehand,' he mused, 'to swing it.'
"'Swing what?' I asked.
"'First, let me ask you another question,' he said. 'You told me that you'd studied with an old second-story man named Bentley, and that you were engaged in that sort of business yourself.'
"'That's right.'
"'Just how good are you at that sort of thing?'
"'Not bad,' I said.
"'You still know how to go about it?'
"'I'm not out of practice, if that's what you mean.'
"'What if it were a place particularly security-conscious, well-guarded?'
"I shrugged.
"'Couldn't really tell you till I cased it,' I said. 'Sometimes, you know, I'd come up with a wild card talent that really helped in these things.'
"'Now, that's a thought….'
"'What's the angle, Doc? What're you leading up to?'
"'I've worked out what you need, Croyd, for the radiation part of the therapy. Unfortunately, the necessary materials are not available to civilians.'
"'Who's got them?'
"'Los Alamos Laboratories.'
"'If they're medically useful you'd think they'd let some of the stuff loose, for humanitarian — '
"'They wouldn't be useful for anyone but yourself. I had to adjust all of the equations to take your wild metabolism into account.'
"'I see,' I said. 'And you're wondering whether I might be able to pry some of the stuff loose? Helping myself to help myself, so to speak?'
"'In a word, yes.'
"'That might be managed,' I said. 'How soon could I get a look at the premises?'
"'There's the rub,' he said. 'I don't know how it can be done.'
"'What do you mean?'
"'The whole city is closed. There are checkpoints. If you're not authorized personnel you can't get by. It's a government installation. Top secret atomic research.'
"'Oh. You mean it's not just the Lab, but the whole damn city's off-limits?'
"'That's right.'
"'This sounds a little trickier than breaking into an apartment or a store and cracking a safe, Doc. Are you sure we can't get this stuff someplace else?'