Frederik Pohl The Siege of Eternity

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"Sure. So did Patsy-the one of us who died. And, of course, all the ones who
went back to Earth-
you two"-nodding at the Earthly Pat and Dannerman-"and Jimmy Lin, and Martin,
and Rosie. It's a spy thing."
Dannerman, frowning, opened his mouth, but Hilda was in command. "Tell me
exactly what you mean, 'spy thing,' " she demanded.
And was astonished to hear the answer. The bugs in the head were little
transmitters-well, no surprise there; everyone had guessed that much. But
these weren't simple sound-only bugs. You put on a kind of helmet that acted
as a receiver, Patrice said, "And then you were the other person.
The other you. I saw that jail cell you were in, Pat. Through your eyes. Just
like I was there."
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The bearded Dannerman confirmed what she said. "I was in your head once when
you were waking up with a hangover, Dan. And Martin said he was at Kourou, and
Jimmy Lin was back in the Chinese space center; in fact I think one time when
our Jimmy was listening in the one of him that was in
China was getting laid. He said it was just like being there. You could see,
hear, taste, smell, feel-it was virtual-reality stuff, only better than
anything I've ever seen."
Then they were all talking at once, waking Dopey. "You people are very noisy,"
he complained, peering out from under his great plume, but no one paid
attention to him.
"You mean," Pat said shakily, "you could feel and see everything I did?
Everything?"
"Well, just when we had the helmet on," Pat One said consolingly. "And we
could only receive ourselves-Patrice and Patsy and I could tune in on you,
Dan-Dan on the other Dan and so on. Dopey had a way of tuning in on
everybody-that's why they put the bugs in your heads in the first place.
But he never let us do that."
Pat was shaking her head. "Thank God I wasn't doing anything very
interesting," she said. "But now
I really do want to get this damn thing out."
"Even if it kills you?" Dannerman asked.
Dopey yawned a little cat yawn. "You people concern yourselves over such
trivial things," he complained. "Why should that procedure kill you? The
device no longer serves any useful purpose, since you have destroyed the relay
channel on your Starlab. My medically trained bearer can remove it without
harm to you."
Pat sat up, openmouthed. "You're sure?"
"Of course I am sure. Was it not he who installed the devices in the first
place?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dannerman knew what going to hospital was all about, because he'd done it.
More than once. You went to hospitals when, for instance, the knee-breakers of
the Mad King Ludwigs or the Scuzzhawk enforcers had found out you were a narc,
and consequently had beaten the pee out of you. Then, when you got to the
hospital, the basic thing you felt was just gratitude that you'd made it
there. All you hoped for was that maybe these people could make everything
stop hurting.
This time was different. Dannerman had never before gone into a hospital when
there was actually nothing wrong with him at all, and when the reason he was
there was to let somebody chop holes into parts of his head where
neurosurgeons hesitated to cut. Where, if they made one little slip, pow!,
your brain was tapioca.
What made it worse-not that Dannerman required that it be made -was that the
somebody who was about to stab him in the worse spinal cord wasn't even a
human being. It was a two-meter-tall golem, with a lot more arms than seemed
reasonable, from some preposterous part of outer space.
The damn thing wasn't even looking at Dannerman as it stood impassive in the
lurching Bureau van.
It wasn't looking at anything. It seemed to be in a standing-up coma. And it
smelled terrible.
The party had waited until after dark to make the trip to Walter Reed.
Darkness wasn't perfect
file:///F|/rah/Frederik%20Pohl/Pohl,%20Frederik...haton%202%20-%20The%20Siege%
20Of%20Eternity.txt (37 of 126) [1/15/03 6:27:06 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Frederik%20Pohl/Pohl,%20Frederik%20-%20Eschaton%202%20-%20The%2
0Siege%20Of%20Eternity.txt security. It wouldn't stop any professional snoop
from switching on his IR scanner that turned any scene into broad, full-color
daylight. But it might save them from being observed by some chance-
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met news reporter or simple civilian gawker who might just happen to be
passing by the freight entrance when their little procession of cars slid
through the door to the loading dock, and the door descended behind them.
Walter Reed was meant as a veterans' hospital, but it happened to be really
handy to the nation's capital. Presidents and congressmen noticed that right
away, and so it became the sort of general all-purpose low-cost medical
facility for the nation's top brass. What it didn't have many of anymore was
military veterans, because there hadn't been that many wars lately. Now it was
mainly the Federal Police Corps which supplied the bodies to fill those ready
beds. The Bureau's casualties didn't mingle with shot-up street cops. The
Bureau had its own little section, where security was easy to maintain.
Dr. Marsha Evergood was waiting for them on the dock. She glanced at the pair
of aliens, the Doc and the Dopey, with a mixture of skepticism and dislike but
said nothing as she led them into an elevator. They made a considerable
procession, with the aliens, the three bugged humans and
Colonel Hilda Morrisey. The Bureau's advance party had done its job. No one
else was in sight. Not in the halls behind the freight dock, not in the
elevator, which was manually operated by a uniformed Bureau cadet, not in the
short stretch of hallway that led them to an operating theater.
It was a real operating theater this time, Dannerman saw. The difference
between it and the
Bureaus Pit of Pain were that this one had actual surgical machinery, some of
the pieces faintly whispering and chuckling to themselves, and the glass wall
to the gallery was ordinary glass.
There was nobody watching in those seats, either.
Dr. Evergood planted herself at the head of the operating table and peered at
the Doc. "How do you want to do this?" she asked the room in general. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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