Oh, yes, I had married Gwen Novak! Most unexpectedly but what a delightful idea! And then we- Hey! that wasn't yesterday. Yesterday you-
Boy, yesterday you had a busy day! Started in Luna City, bounced to Grinnell- How? Never mind "How" for the nonce. Accept it. Then you bounced to- What had Gwen called it? Hey, wait!-Gwen's real name is Hazel. Or is it? Worry about that later. Hazel called it "Third Earth," Tellus Tertius. Tammy called it something else. Tammy? Oh, sure, "Tamara." Everybody knows Tamara.
Tammy would not let them work on my wounded leg while I was awake- How in hell did I pick up that wound? Am I getting clumsy in my old age? Or was it spotting Bill's face among those fake Shriners? It's not professional to let any surprise slow you down. If your own grandmother shows up in the scrum, shoot her and move on.
How did you know they were not Shriners? That's easy;
Shriners are middle-aged and paunchy; these studs were young
and tough. Combat ready.
Yes, but that's a rationalization, one you just now thought of. So? Nevertheless it's true. But you didn't reason it out yesterday. Hell, no, of course not; at the moment of truth you don't have time to think. You look at a bloke, something about him shouts "Enemy!" and you jump to do unto him before he does unto you. If you use scrum time routing impressions around inside your skull, sorting by type and weighing by logic-you're dead! Instead, you move.
Yesterday you didn't move fast enough.
But we picked the right partner for a fight, didn't we?-a quick little coral snake named Hazel. And any scrum we come out of still with a body temperature of thirty-seven can't be
counted an utter defeat.
Quit trying to kid yourself. You got how many? Two? And she got the rest. And she had to make pick up on you... or you would be stone cold dead this minute.
Maybe I am. Let's check. I opened my eyes.
This room certainly looks like Heaven! But that proves you are not dead, because Heaven is not your destination. Besides, everybody says that when you die, first you go through a long tunnel with a light at the far end, and there your beloved waits for you ... and that did not happen to you. No tunnel. No light at the end of the tunnel. And sadly no Hazel.
So I am not dead and this can't be Heaven and I don't think it's a hospital either. No hospital was ever this beautiful or smelled so good. And where is the regulation racket found in all hospital corridors? All I hear are bird songs and a string trio off somewhere in the distance.
Hey, there's Tree-San!
So Hazel must be close around. Where are you, honey girl?
I need help. Find my foot and hand it to me, will you, please? I can't risk hopping in this gravity; I'm out of practice, and ... well, damn it, I need to pee. Something abooraxly!-my back teeth are floating.
"I see that you are now awake." It was a gentle voice, back of my right ear. I twisted my head to look just as she came around to where I could see her more easily-a young woman, comely, slender, small of bust, long brown hair. She smiled as I caught her eye. "I'm Minerva. What will you have for breakfast? Hazel told me that waffles would please you. But you can have anything you like."
"'Anything'?" I considered it. "How about a brontosaurus roasted over a slow fire?"
"Yes, surely. But that will take longer to prepare than waffles," she answered with perfect seriousness. "Some tidbits while you wait?"
"Go along with you; quit pulling my leg. Speaking of legs, have you seen my artificial foot? Before I eat breakfast I must visit the refresher... and I must have my cork foot to do that. This gravity, you know."
Minerva told me bluntly what to do about it. "This bed has a built-in refresher and you can't use the usual refresher anyhow; you are under spinal block from the waist down. But our arrangements are efficient, truly. So go ahead. Whatever you need to do."
"Uh... I can't." (Truly I could not. When they cut off my foot, the hospital corpsmen had a hell of a time with me. Finally they equipped me with catheter and honey tube until I was able to get as far as the jakes on crutches.)
"You will find that you can. And that it will be all right."
"Uh-" (I couldn't stir either leg, neither the short one nor the long one.) "Mistress Minerva, may I have an ordinary hospital-type bed urinal?"
She looked troubled. "If you wish. But it will not be useful." Then her troubled look changed to a thoughtful one. "I will go find one. But it will take me some time. At least ten minutes. Not a moment less. And I am going to seal your door while I am gone so that no one will disturb you." She added, 'Ten minutes," and headed for a blank wall. It snapped out of her way and she was gone.
I immediately flipped off the sheet to see what they had done to my one good leg. The sheet would not flip. So I snuck up on it. It was too smart for me. So I tried to outwit it-after all, a sheet can't be smarter than a man. Can it be?
Yes, it can.
Finally I said to myself. Look, chum, we are getting nowhere. Let's try assuming that Mistress Minerva was being precisely truthfuclass="underline" This is a bed with built-in plumbing, capable of handling the worst a bedfast patient can do. So saying, I worked a couple of ballistic problems in my head-hairy em-piricals guaranteed to distract even a man waiting at the guillotine.
And cut loose with half a liter, sighed, then let go with the other half. No, the bed did not seem to be wet. And a feminine voice cooed, "Good baby!"
I looked hastily around. No vocal cords to go with the voice- "Who said that and where are you?"
"I'm Teena, Minerva's sister. I'm no farther away than your elbow... yet I'm half a kilometer away and two hundred meters down. Need anything, just ask me. We stock it or make it or fake it. Miracles we do at once; anything else even sooner. Exception: Virgins are a special order... average lead time, fourteen years. Factory rebuilt virgins, fourteen minutes."
"Who in hell wants a virgin? Mistress Teena, do you think
it is polite to watch roe take a pee?"
"Youngster, don't try to tell your grandmother how to steal sheep. One of my duties is to watch everything in all departments of this fun house and catch mistakes before they happen. Two: / am a virgin and can prove it... and I am going to make you sorry you were bom male for uttering that disparaging
crack about virgins."
(Oh, hell!) "Mistress Teena, I did not mean to offend you. I was simply embarrassed, that was all. So I spoke hastily. But I do think micturition and such should be granted privacy."
"Not in a hospital, bud. They are significant aspects of the clinical picture, every time."
"Uh-"
"Here comes my sister. If you don't believe me, you can ask her."
A couple of seconds later the wall opened and Mistress Minerva came in, carrying a hospital-bed urinal of the old-fashioned sort-no automatic machinery, no electronic controls. I said, "Thank you. But I no longer need it. As I'm sure your sister told you."
"Yes, she did. But surely she didn't tell you that she had?"
"No, I deduced it. Is it true that she sits somewhere in the basement and snoops on every patient? Doesn't she find it boring?"
"She doesn't really pay any attention until it's needed. She has thousands of other things to do, all more interesting-"
"Far more interesting!" that faceless voice interrupted. "Minnie, he doesn't like virgins. I let him know that I am one. Confirm it, Sis; I want to rub his nose in it."
'Teena, don't tease him."
"Why not? It's fun to tease men; they wiggle so when you poke them. Though I can't see what Hazel sees in this one. He's a sad sack."
'Teena! Colonel, did Athene tell you that she is a computer?"
"Eh? Say that again."