Part 9 (1/2)
”Yours is one of the most interesting cases I've seen so far. In all of the others it's simply run its course and either killed the person or changed him-for better or worse. With you-Well, the nearest a.n.a.logy is an earth disease called malaria. The virus you harbor seems to reinfect you periodically.”
”I drew a joker once. . . .”
”Yes, and it could happen again. But unlike anyone else to whom it's happened, all you have to do is wait. You can sleep it off.”
”I don't ever want to be a monster again. Is there some way you could change just that much of it?”
”I'm afraid not. It's part of your total syndrome. I can only go after the whole thing.”
”And the odds against a cure are three or four to one?”
”Who told you that?”
”A joker named Bentley. He looked sort of like a dog.”
”Bentley was one of my successes. He's back to normal now. Just left here fairly recently, in fact.”
”Really! It's good to know that someone made it.”
Tachyon looked away.
”Yes,” he answered, a moment later.
”Tell me something.”
”What?”
”If I only change when I sleep, then I could put off a change by staying awake-right?”
”I see what you mean. Yes, a stimulant would put it off a bit. If you feel it coming on while you're out somewhere, the caffeine in a couple of cups of coffee would probably hold it off long enough for you to get back home.”
”Isn't there something stronger? Something that would put it off for a longer time?”
”Yes, there are powerful stimulants-amphetamines, for example. But they can be dangerous if you take too many or take them for too long.”
”In what ways are they dangerous?”
”Nervousness, irritability, combativeness. Later on, a toxic psychosis, with delusions, hallucinations, paranoia.”
”Crazy?”
”Yes.”
”Well, you could just stop them if it gets near that point, couldn't you?”
”I don't believe it's that easy.”
”I'd hate to be a monster again, or-You didn't say it, but isn't it possible that I could just die during one of the comas?”
”There is that possibility. It's a nasty virus. But you've come through several attacks now, which leads me to believe that your body knows what it is doing. I wouldn't worry myself unduly on that. . . .”
”It's the joker part that really bothers me.”
”That is a possibility you simply have to live with.”
”All right. Thank you, Doctor.”
”I wish you would come to Mt. Sinai the next time you feel it coming on. I'd really like to observe the process in you.”
”I'd rather not.”
Tachyon nodded.
”Or right away after you awaken . . . ?”
”Maybe,” Croyd said, and he shook his hand. ”By the way, Doctor . . . How do you spell 'amphetamine'?”
Croyd stopped by the Sarzannos' apartment later, for he had not seen Joe since that day in September when they had made their way home from school together, the exigencies of making a living have limited his spare time since then.
Mrs. Sarzanno opened the door a crack and stared at him. After he had identified himself and tried to explain his changed appearance, she still refused to open the door farther.
”My Joe, he is changed, too,” she said.
”Uh, how is he changed?” he asked.
”Changed. That's all. Changed. Go away.”
She closed the door.
He knocked again, but there was no response.
Croyd went away then and ate three steaks, because there was nothing else he could do.
Croyd studied Bentley-a small foxy-featured man with dark hair and s.h.i.+fty eyes-feeling that his earlier transformation had actually been in keeping with his general demeanor. Bentley returned the compliment for several seconds, then said, ”That's really you, Croyd?”
”Yep.”
”Come on in. Sit down. Have a beer. We've got a lot to talk about.”
He stepped aside, and Croyd entered the brightly furnished apartment.
”I got cured and I'm back in business. Business is lousy,” Bentley said, after they had seated themselves. ”What's your story?”