“These are recent cases,” said Toothpick. The light stabbed about. “Probably all four-toed. Let’s check deeper in the caves. The older cases should be back that way—to your right.”
Moses moved on—teeth chattering. Finding an Attendant’s cubicle unoccupied, he turned up the heat and changed clothes. The dispenser delivered a liter of hot brew under Toothpick’s orders. Feeling stronger, he moved on again.
“This looks like a likely area to start in,” said Toothpick. Moses had searched for hours, examining cubicles, index numbers and casings. At last they stood before what must have been the most ancient cubicle in the cave. The door handle was worn ovoid and smooth by countless hands seeking the warmth inside.
“The control boards will be close by. Check that far wall.”
Moses walked up to the crusted stony wall. Under a layer of grit he found the flat indicator discs. They glowed a dull green.
“Must be a million of these,” exclaimed Moses glancing up and down the cave wall. “What do they mean?”
“A million patients,” said Toothpick. “Green means the metabolism is stable—yellow means trouble—red, death.”
Moses settled down in the warm comfortable quarters while Toothpick checked the memory banks of the Life Support center. This section’s census showed just under a million patients—tumor cases. Old ones. The most recent were from 1220 AO—over a thousand years past.
“High incidence of five-toeds here,” said Toothpick.
“How do we proceed?”
“Insert me into one of those sockets over there. Then get out of here. The Big ES isn’t going to like what I have to do. Security will be all over this rock in a few days.”
“You want me to leave you?”
“I’m a kamikaze Toothpick—expendable. I have to stay until it is over. You must escape—travel south to the river—”
“What’s over? What river?”
“Oh-oh. Company.”
A hooded figure entered, suspecting nothing. The protective suit was thick and relatively soundproof. It carried its own entertainment channels to combat the deathly silence of some caves and the hypnotizing drum of the surf in others. The Attendant for millions of suspended had no need to be alert.
While Toothpick worked quietly in the socket, Moses crept up on the new arrival. He grappled with the loose-suited form.
“Tie her into that chair with that segment of tubing. Tell her to be still or I’ll zap her,” ordered Toothpick.
Moses raised an eyebrow.
“Zap?”
The Attendant relaxed. “Never mind. I heard him—or it. I don’t know why you’re here—but if you’ve brought your own rations you’re welcome. It gets pretty lonely around— Say! What’s going on? Look at all those amber lights on my panel. There must be a dozen of them—”
“Tie her up!” repeated Toothpick, twitching in his socket.
She sat open-mouthed while yellow lights sprang up all over the panel. Several times she wrenched on her bonds, but Toothpick immediately made threatening sounds in her direction. Moses quietly warned her that Toothpick was no ordinary meck—he had killed many of the four-toeds.
The frost melted from the cubicle’s outer walls. Distant crashes of falling icicles echoed against the damp stone walls. The first red light appeared… a death.
The Attendant struggled against the knotted tubing, spitting hatred at Moses Eppendorff.
“Murderer! Why in the name of Olga are you doing this? What right have you to come here—killing my patients?”
Moses was puzzled. He watched the red lights glow. Death. These patients were mostly five-toeds. True, they all had tumors—fatal malignancies. But they were alive and safe in their suspension coffins. Why was Toothpick interfering with the LS controls? He was killing them.
Toothpick recorded the peculiar set of Moses’ features, but he was too occupied to explain. All his circuits were busy altering incoming sensor readings. He was deceiving the LS meck brain with Ice-Age temperature readings. The cave’s homeostatic mechanism released heat to combat the factitious cold. Slowly the waters warmed. With each seven-Fahrenheit-degree rise the metabolic rate of the suspended doubled. Perfusion pumps strained to supply oxygen and nutrients for the more active enzyme systems. Robot Resuscitators splashed awkwardly about in response to the multiple yellow signals. Thousands were sickening with the accumulations of their own metabolic wastes. Moses detected the odors of ammonia, indole and skatole.
More red lights appeared. Protein Harvesters moved through the tidal caves picking up the deceased and carrying them to the synthesizers.
The Attendant continued to vilify Moses with passionate asperity.
“What are you—some kind of crazy crusader come to take vengeance? There can’t be any political enemies here—this is a cancer ward, not a psych ward.”
More red lights.
She took a strained deep breath and tried reasoning with him.
“If you are an assassin—why kill them all? Tell me who you want. I’ll help you find him.”
Moses frowned at her. Expediency. She would finger one to save the rest. He glanced expectantly at Toothpick, who seemed more relaxed now that the red lights were coming on.
The cyber spoke from his socket.
“We are not assassins in search of a single target victim. We do not intend the death of anyone—but unfortunately many will die. Moses, you had better leave now. If you are caught here it will be the Mass Murder charge. Take her with you. I’ll need about three days to complete my work here. I won’t be able to come with you.”
Moses hesitated.
“Couldn’t I wait? Together we might be able to—”
“No. Run. I have this LS robot fooled. But I must sit right in his sensory unit to do it. There are nine other LS mecks on the island. They are probably picking up the increased heat already. Their sensors are free. Warm water and air from this section will alert them. Crews from the mainland can get here in two or three days. After that Security will seal the place. If you are linked with me the Big ES will find you eventually—it is very efficient that way. Remember what I told you—travel south to the river.”
Moses carried the bound Attendant lightly on his shoulder as he trotted back to the dock. The boat—a mere class ten—accepted his verbal orders without question. He set her on her feet in the cargo section as they pulled out to sea. She struggled and sobbed.
“Thousands of red lights—”
The boat trembled with her words. Moses motioned for her to be silent. He didn’t want the craft’s meck brain confused. Her eyes brightened and she spat at him. Scowling, he grabbed the front of her suit, twisting and pressing his knuckles into her sternum.
“Go ahead,” she dared. “You were real handy back there in the Dundas Caves—killing sleeping patients. You aren’t man enough to handle someone awake and kicking.”
Her cries pulled the boat off course. He grabbed her with both hands and jerked her off her feet. Through the cloth he felt her heart racing. He lifted her over his head and stepped to the railing. Elbows still bound behind her, she watched the gray, ice-flecked sea rush by. She struggled and screamed more insults. Her heart rate increased. He looked up into her face and saw wild bright eyes and a wet mouth. She was enjoying this!
Moses dunked her into the icy brine of the craft’s wake and held her up to the cold blast of the wind. She stiffened and fell silent. He carried her below deck. This put the ship on a steady course south. In the warm cabin—bundled and dry—she quietly held a hot cup of broth with both hands. She seemed relaxed, almost satiated by the pains of his rough handling. He stood before her, shaking his fist.
“You’re crazy—you know that? Repeat all that hysteria and you’re going to get hurt again. Now just sit tight. I’ll give Toothpick the two days he needs, then I’ll let you go. Meanwhile, we’re stuck on this boat together. It’s up to you whether you take a regular bath in that ocean out there.”