bottle came away, and it wasall like gray and white jelly, and then blood began to spring out. Hescreamed. Oh, that scream! I never heard anything like that scream. Itwas what I had been waiting all my life for.
I kicked him as he staggered back, and he fell. And I was on top of him,with the bottle, and I was careful to stay away from the heart or thethroat, because that was too quick, but I worked over the face, and Ifelt his knife get me a couple times more, and--
And--
* * * * *
And I woke up, you know. And there was Dr. Santly over me with ahypodermic needle that he'd just taken out of my arm, and four malenurses in fatigues holding me down. And I was drenched with sweat.
For a minute, I didn't know where I was. It was a horrible queasyfalling sensation, as though the bar and the fight and the world wereall dissolving into smoke around me.
Then I knew where I was.
It was almost worse.
I stopped yelling and just lay there, looking up at them.
Dr. Santly said, trying to keep his face friendly and noncommittal,"You're doing much better, Byron, boy. _Much_ better."
I didn't say anything.
He said, "You worked through the whole thing in two hours and eightminutes. Remember the first time? You were sixteen hours killing him.Captain Van Wyck it was that time, remember? Who was it this time?"
"Chowderhead." I looked at the male nurses. Doubtfully, they let go ofmy arms and legs.
"Chowderhead," said Dr. Santly. "Oh--Roebuck. That boy," he saidmournfully, his expression saddened, "he's not coming along nearly aswell as you. _Nearly._ He can't run through a cycle in less than fivehours. And, that's peculiar, it's usually you he-- Well, I better notsay that, shall I? No sense setting up a counter-impression when yourpores are all open, so to speak?" He smiled at me, but he was a littleworried in back of the smile.
I sat up. "Anybody got a cigarette?"
"Give him a cigarette, Johnson," the doctor ordered the male nursestanding alongside my right foot.
Johnson did. I fired up.
"You're coming along _splendidly_," Dr. Santly said. He was one of thesepsych guys that thinks if you say it's so, it makes it so. You know thatkind? "We'll have you down under an hour before the end of the week.That's _marvelous_ progress. Then we can work on the conscious level!You're doing extremely well, whether you know it or not. Why, in sixmonths--say in eight months, because I like to be conservative--" hetwinkled at me--"we'll have you out of here! You'll be the first of yourcrew to be discharged, you know that?"
"That's nice," I said. "The others aren't doing so well?"
"No. Not at all well, most of them. Particularly Dr. Gilvey. Therun-throughs leave him in terrible shape. I don't mind admitting I'mworried about him."
"That's nice," I said, and this time I meant it.
* * * * *
He looked at me thoughtfully, but all he did was say to the male nurses,"He's all right now. Help him off the table."
It was hard standing up. I had to hold onto the rail around the tablefor a minute. I said my set little speech: "Dr. Santly, I want to tellyou again how grateful I am for this. I was reconciled to living therest of my life confined to one part of the country, the way the othercrews always did. But this is much better. I appreciate it. I'm sure theothers do, too."
"Of course, boy. Of course." He took out a fountain pen and made a noteon my chart; I couldn't see what it was, but he looked gratified. "It'sno more than you have coming to you, Byron," he said. "I'm grateful thatI could be the one to make it come to pass."
He glanced conspiratorially at the male nurses. "You know how importantthis is to me. It's the triumph of a whole new approach to psychicrehabilitation. I mean to say our heroes of space travel are entitled tofreedom when they come back home to Earth, aren't they?"
"Definitely," I said, scrubbing some of the sweat off my face onto mysleeve.
"So we've got to end this system of designated areas. We can't avoid thetensions that accompany space travel, no. But if we can help youeliminate harmful tensions with a few run-throughs, why, it's not toohigh a price to pay, is it?"
"Not a bit."
"I mean to say," he said, warming up, "you can look forward to the timewhen you'll be able to mingle with your old friends from the rocket,free and easy, without any need for restraint. That's a lot to lookforward to, isn't it?"
"It is," I said. "I look forward to it very much," I said. "And I knowexactly what I'm going to do the first time I meet one--I mean withoutany restraints, as you say," I said. And it was true; I did. Only itwouldn't be a broken beer bottle that I would do it with.
I had much more elaborate ideas than that.
--PAUL FLEHR
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ January 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends