Moldenke remembered the radio voice, the weather reports.
"You're Shelp? The weatherman?"
"Didn't I say that? I remember saying that."
"Yes. Glad to know you. Call me Moldenke."
"Shall I send the lift chair up, Moldenke?"
"Shelp?"
"Yes?"
"You said to fill my lung. You used the singular. You know me fairly well, don't you?"
"Not at all, Moldenke. I only know a few of your anomalies. I'll bring you up now. Have you got the crotch buckle tightened?"
"Yes, I'm ready."
"Breathe in."
Circuits opened and closed in a box on the arm of the lift chair and he went up. At the deck he unstrapped himself, cricket and prune knotting in his stomach. The ride up had loosened his shoes. He knelt and re-buttoned them.
Shelp took his elbow and showed him into the weather room. A wood fire burned in a floor pit. Moldenke sat in a chair. Shelp threw genuine oak on the fire.
Shelp pointed at the floor pit: "This is where I cook my cat weenies, and sometimes I'll put a naked toe in the coals to clean out my head. You know the old expression?"
"Yes," Moldenke said. "Out of mind, out of sight. . Oh, pain, the soap of thought. . and so on. I've heard them."
Shelp said, "How do you feel, Moldenke?"
Moldenke said, "Odd and a little rattled, but comfortable, exactly the way I should feel. Shouldn't I?"
Shelp said, "You should. Why shouldn't you?"
Moldenke said, "I shouldn't. I don't know you."
"You may be dizzy, Moldenke. I may have brought you up too fast. Hold out your tongue."
Moldenke held out his tongue. Shelp placed a green spansule on it. "There, that will bring you down." He poured a cup of cherry water. Moldenke washed down the spansule.
The fire whistled.
Shelp said, "Concentrate on the fire, Moldenke. Regard the flame as a reflection of itself. Think of it as hot and cold as well. Play the game. You must have noticed that certain flames do not reflect in certain mirrors. Have you? Moldenke? Are you down yet?"
The teaboil whistled.
"Are you down, Dink?"
"I think so."
"I'll prod the teaboil. We'll have some tea."
Shelp opened a cabinet. "Your choice, Dink: mothwing, ginger root, banana flower — what?"
"Banana flower." Moldenke crossed his legs and loosened his backpack. "I used to be a banana man at the Trop Garden."
"I know," Shelp said.
"Of course," Moldenke said. "Mind if I smoke?" He lit a cigar.
Shelp said, "No," that he didn't mind. "I'll have one myself." He lit a brown cigar.
Moldenke said he hadn't seen a brown cigar since before the mock War. Shelp agreed they were rare.
They drank tea and smoked.
Shelp said, "I work for Bunce." Moldenke threw his tea in the fire and stood up.
"You work for Bunce?"
"Be easy, Moldenke. Sit down. You're safe here."
"You said you worked for Bunce."
"I didn't mean to excite you. I know it's hard on the hearts. In fact, the tower belongs to Bunce. In that sense I work for him. Frankly, I've never seen the man. I just live here and do my job. He calls me sometimes and we talk about the weather."
On one wall weather gauges gave readings. They watched the needles move.
"They aren't accurate," Shelp said. "Bunce prefers it that way."
A strong wind blew against the tower. The wind gauge read calm.
Shelp said, "You'll have to pardon me now. I have to do the weather." He sat at a table under the weather gauges, spoke into a microphone:
Roving chuff clouds, floxiness hovering above L.A., unpredictable, nothing verified, minimum forecast, probable extensive sunsout, birdfall index high per hundredcount, earlier reports not reliable, premature, lofty hopes for a sunsy weekout, otherwise rain and sleet.
Moldenke slept intermittently. Shelp stood over the teaboil. The wind whirled The fire in the floor pit died.
"Do you recognize time, Moldenke?"
Moldenke sat up, eye wide. "Where is it?" He blinked away a forming daydream, although outside the night was early.
"Consider the future, Moldenke. Do you imagine we'll ever get there? Some folks see it as a k-bus trip. You get there, you get off, set down the packages, and talk about the chuckholes. I wonder about the quality of that. Moldenke?"
38
When the government moons went up, Eagleman's moon came down.
39
Moldenke had postponed the matter of booster hearts until one of his lungs had collapsed.
Burnheart had written a letter:
My Dear Declining Dink,
It's not an altogether cheering prospect, you moon-child. I sat back and let you be overtaken by a flotilla of polyps. The physician's ethical silence, in deference to your feelings. I couldn't sleep. Never again, son. Where it pertains to you, nature drives in rearward gear. I've watched the teeth rot out, the eye close, and now the heart is down to a slug's crawl. In this case I will not sit back and let the long Moldenke line run out of ink.
May I suggest a set of booster hearts?
The surgery is child's work. You swallow the pill and dream about a necklace of planets, or whatever. I'll install the hearts myself. I admit, I wouldn't mind putting on the rubbers again. It's been a number of seasons. And when it's all over, when you've got four little pumpers helping the big one along, we'll each take home two sheep for the barbecue. Look at it that way.
Your Doctor,
Burnheart
40
"Another cup of tea, Moldenke?"
Moldenke slept.
Shelp spooned banana flowers into the teaboil. The wind died. The wind gauge needle lurched to ninety klicks per.
Moldenke sat up empty.
"More tea, Moldenke?"
"Thank you. I'm down now."
"Not below the normal level I hope?"
"No, not much below. Yes, I'd like tea. What time is it, Shelp?"
"You do recognize it, then?"
"Yes, I remember the question. You asked it earlier."
"And now you've come full circle and answered it for me. You're indirect, Moldenke. You sniff about too cautiously, like the cat and the recent turd. You parry at the body of something like a timid boxer. Let me see your nose instead of your ass. I don't know what time it is. If I had a clockpiece here it wouldn't keep the standard time, so what's the good of one? Are you in a hurry?"
"They expect me in three days."
"You mean they expect you to arrive on the third day?"
"I can't say. I'm not the one to judge."
"You talk like a cottonhead, Dink. Drink your tea. I'll skewer a few cat cranks. We'll eat. No sense in hurrying off. If they're expecting you on the third day, you don't want to get there before that and find the doors locked, do you?"
Moldenke agreed that he didn't.
41
Dear Moldenke,
If you place a cup over the ear you can hear the boosters working. As your physican, in the narrow sense, I advise you to do it frequently. Monitor yourself. And, as your friend in the fullest sense, I would say avoid any avoidable excitement.
Your friend,
Doctor Burnheart
42
Dear Doctor,
I woke up to the sirens this morning with a chestful of nellies. I couldn't avoid it. I behaved accordingly.
It was good to get your letter.
Your patient,
Moldenke
43
Dear Moldenke,