“Now, who's making the angels weep?” Dasein asked. “You protest that you love Jenny and won't have her hurt. What more terrible thing is there than to have her be the instrument of my death?”
Piaget paled, drew two ragged breaths. “She ⦠There must be ⦠What do you mean blow the whistle?”
“Has a Labor Department inspector ever looked into the child labor situation out at your
school
?” Dasein asked. “What about the State Department of Mental Hygiene? Your records say no mental illness from Santaroga.”
“Gilbert, you don't know what you're talking about.”
“Don't I? What about the antigovernment propaganda in your newspaper?”
“We're not antigovernment, Gilbert, we're ⦔
“What? Why, I've never seen such a ⦔
“Allow me to finish, please. We're not antigovernment; we're anti-
outside
. That's a cat of quite different calico.”
“You think they're all ⦠insane?”
“We think they're all going to eat themselves up.”
Madness, madness,
Dasein thought. He stared at the ceiling. Perspiration bathed his body. The intensity of emotion he'd put into the argument with Piaget â¦
“Why did you send Burdeaux to watch over me?” Dasein asked.
Piaget shrugged. “I ⦠to guard against the possibility you might be right in your ⦔
“And you picked Burdeaux.” Dasein turned his eyes toward Piaget, studied the man. Piaget appeared to be warring with himself, nervously clenching and unclenching his fists.
“The reasons should be obvious,” he said.
“You can't let me leave the valley, can you?” Dasein asked.
“You're in no physical condition to ⦔
“Will I ever be?”
Piaget met Dasein's gaze. “How can I prove to you what we really â¦
“Is there any place here where I can protect myself from accidents?” Dasein asked.
“Protect yourself from ⦔ Piaget shook his head.
“You want to prove your honorable intentions,” Dasein said.
Piaget pursed his lips, then: “There's an isolation suite, a penthouse on the roofâits own kitchen, facilities, everything. If you ⦔
“Could Burdeaux get me up there without killing me?”
Piaget sighed. “I'll take you up there myself as soon as I can get a ⦔
“Burdeaux.”
“As you wish. You can be moved in a wheelchair.”
“I'll walk.”
“You're not strong enough to ⦔
“I'll find the strength. Burdeaux can help me.”
“Very well. As to food, we can ⦔
“I'll eat out of cans picked at random from a market's shelves. Burdeaux can shop for me until I'm ⦔
“Now, see here ⦔
“That's the way it's going to be, doctor. He'll get me a broad selection, and I'll choose at random from that selection.”
“You're taking unnecessary ⦔
“Let's give it a try and see how many accidents develop.”
Piaget stared at him a moment, then: “As you wish.”
“What about Jenny? When can I see her?”
“She's had a severe shock to her system and some intestinal trauma. I'd say she shouldn't have visitors for several days unless they ⦔
“I'm not leaving that isolation suite until I've convinced you,” Dasein said. “When can she come to see me?”
“It'll be several days.” He pointed a finger at Dasein. “Now, see here, Gilbertâyou're not going to take Jenny out of the valley. She'll never consent to ⦔
“Let's let Jenny decide that.”
“Very well.” Piaget nodded. “You'll see.” He went to the door, opened it. “Win?”
Burdeaux stepped past Piaget into the room. “Is he still talking crazy, Doctor Larry?”
“We're going to conduct an experiment, Win,” Piaget said. “For reasons of Dr. Dasein's health and Jenny's happiness, we're going to move him to the isolation suite.” Piaget jerked a thumb toward the ceiling. “He wants you to move him.”
“I'll get a wheelchair,” Burdeaux said.
“Dr. Dasein wants to try walking,” Piaget said.
“Can he do that?” Burdeaux turned a puzzled frown on Dasein. “He was too weak to stand just a little ⦔
“Dr. Dasein appears to be relying on your strength,” Piaget said. “Think you can manage?”
“I could carry him,” Burdeaux said, “but that seems like a ⦔
“Treat him with the same care you'd treat a helpless infant,” Piaget said.
“If you say so, Doctor Larry.”
Burdeaux crossed to the bed, helped Dasein to sit on the edge of the bed. The effort set Dasein's head to whirling. In the fuzzy tipping and turning of the room, he saw Piaget go to the door, open it and stand there looking at Burdeaux.
“I'll take my evil influence elsewhere for the time being,” Piaget said. “You don't mind, do you, Gilbert, if I look in on you shortlyâpurely in a medical capacity?”
“As long as I have the final say on what you do to me,” Dasein said.
“It's only fair to warn you your bandages have to be changed,” Piaget said.
“Can Win do it?”
“Your trust in Win is very touching,” Piaget said. “I'm sure he's impressed.”
“Can he ⦔
“Yes, I'm certain he canâwith my instruction.”
“All right then,” Dasein said.
With Burdeaux's help, Dasein struggled to his feet. He stood there panting, leaning on Burdeaux. Piaget went out, leaving the door open.
“You sure you can manage, sir?” Burdeaux asked.
Dasein tried to take a step. His knees were two sections of flexing rubber. He would have fallen had it not been for Burdeaux's support.
“Do we go by elevator?” Dasein asked.
“Yes, sir. It's right across the hall.”
“Let's get on with it.”
“Yes, sir. Excuse me, sir.” Burdeaux bent, lifted Dasein in his arms, turned to slip through the door.
Dasein glimpsed the startled face of a nurse walking down the hall. He felt foolish, helplessâstubborn. The nurse frowned, glanced at Burdeaux, who ignored her, punched the elevator button with an elbow. The nurse strode off down the hall, heels clicking.
Elevator doors slid open with a hiss.
Burdeaux carried him inside, elbowed a button marked “P.”
Dasein felt his mouth go dry as the elevator doors closed. He stared up at a cream ceiling, a milky oblong of light, thinking:
“They didn't hesitate to sacrifice Jenny. Why would they have a second thought about Burdeaux? What if the elevator's rigged to crash?
A faint humming sounded. Dasein felt the elevator lift. Presently, the doors opened and Burdeaux carried him out. There was a glimpse of a cream-walled entrance foyer, a mahogany door labeled “Isolation” and they were inside.
It was a long room with three beds, windows opening onto a black tar roof. Burdeaux deposited Dasein on the nearest bed, stepped back. “Kitchen's in there,” he said, pointing to a swinging door at the end of the room. “Bathroom's through that door there.” This was a door opposite the foot of Dasein's bed. There were two more doors to the right of this one. “Other doors are a closet and a lab. Is this what you wanted, Doctor?”
Dasein met a measuring stare in Burdeaux's eyes, said: “It'll have to do.” He managed a rueful smile, explained the eating arrangements.
“Canned food, sir?” Burdeaux asked.
“I'm imposing on you, I know,” Dasein said. “But you were ⦠like me ⦠once. I think you sympathise with me ⦠unconsciously. I'm counting on that to ⦔ Dasein managed a weak shrug.
“Is this what Doctor Larry wants me to do?”
“Yes.”
“I just pick cans from the shelves ⦠at random?”
“That's right.”
“Well, it sounds crazy, sir ⦠but I'll do it.” He left the room, muttering.
Dasein managed to crawl under the blankets, lay for a moment regaining his strength. He could see a line of treetops beyond the roofâtall evergreensâa cloudless blue sky. There was a sense of quiet about the room. Dasein took a deep breath. Was this place really safe? A Santarogan had picked it. But the Santarogan had been off balance with personal doubts.
For the first time in days, Dasein felt he might relax. A profound lassitude filled him.
What is this unnatural weakness?
he wondered.
It was far more than shock reaction or a result of his burns. This was like an injury to the soul, something that involved the entire being. It was a central command to all his muscles, a compulsion of inactivity.
Dasein closed his eyes.
In the red darkness behind his eyelids Dasein felt himself to be shattered, his ego huddled in a fetal crouch, terrified. One must not move, he thought. To move was to invite a disaster more terrible than death.
An uncontrollable shuddering shook his legs and hips, set his teeth chattering. He fought himself to stillness, opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling.
It's a Jaspers reaction,
he thought.
There was a smell of it in the room. The aroma gnawed at his senses. He sniffed, turned toward a metal stand beside the bed, a partly-opened drawer. Dasein slid the drawer all the way out to a stop, rolled onto his side to peer at the space he'd exposed.
Empty.
But there'd been a Jaspers
something
in the drawerâand that recently.
What?
Dasein swept his gaze around the room. Isolation suite, Piaget had said. Isolation of what? From what? For what?
He swallowed, sank back on the pillow.
The deliciously terrifying lassitude gripped him. Dasein sensed the green waters of unconsciousness ready to enfold him. By a desperate effort of will, he forced his eyes to remain open.
Somewhere, a cowering, fetal
something
moaned.
Faceless god chuckled.
The entrance door opened.
Dasein held himself rigidly unmoving, afraid if he moved his head to one side his face might sink beneath the upsurging unconsciousness, that he might drown in â¦
Piaget came into his field of vision, peering down at him. The doctor thumbed Dasein's left eyelid up, studied the eye.
“Damned if you aren't still fighting it,” he said.
“Fighting what?” Dasein whispered.
“I was pretty sure it'd knock you out if you used that much energy at this stage,” Piaget said. “You're going to have to eat before long, you know.”
Dasein was aware then of the painâa demanding hollow within him. He held onto the pain. It helped fight off the enfolding green waves.
“Tell you what,” Piaget said. He moved from Dasein's range of vision. There came a scraping, a grunt. “I'll just sit here and keep watch on you until Win gets back with something you'll stuff into that crazy face of yours. I won't lay a hand on you and I won't let anyone else touch you. Your bandages can wait. More important for you to restâsleep if you can. Stop fighting it.”
Sleep! Gods, how the lassitude beckoned.
Fighting what?
He tried to frame the question once more, couldn't find the energy. It took all of his effort merely to cling to a tiny glowing core of awareness that stared up at a cream-colored ceiling.
“What you're fighting,” Piaget said in a conversational tone, “is the climb out of the morass. Mud clings to one. This is what leads me to suspect your theory may have a germ of truth in itâthat some stain of violence still clings to us, reaching us on the blind side, as it were.”
Piaget's voice was a hypnotic drone. Phrases threaded their way in and out of Dasein's awareness.
“ ⦠experiment in domestication ⦔ “ ⦠removed from ex-stasis, from a fixed condition ⦔ “ ⦠must reimprint the sense of identity ⦔ “ ⦠nothing new: mankind's always in some sort of trouble ⦔ “ ⦠religious experience of a sortâcreating a new order of theobotanists ⦔ “ ⦠don't shrink from life or from awareness of life ⦔ “ ⦠seek a society that changes smoothly, flowingly as the collective need requires ⦔