I Will Fear No Evil by Robert Heinlein Page B

you?”
    An emphatic grunt—
    “Good. Hand aspiration, Dr. Brenner. Adjust those lights, Nurse. Monitor watch! Find out what’s keeping Dr. Feinstein.”
    Johann Smith felt hands working rapidly but gently, then Dr. Hedrick said, “Let me check, Doctor. Very well, remove the jaw wedges. Mr. Smith, we will have to aspirate every few moments—I’d rather not have to force you to cough up fluid. Or go after it the hard way. But you may talk if you wish.”
    “Aye- gah -aye- hay -dih!”
    “Slowly, slowly. You’re having to learn to talk all over again, like a baby. That same remark now—but slowly and carefully.”
    “By . . . God . . . I . . . made . . . it!”
    “You surely did. The first man in history to have his brain moved into a new body—and lived through it. And you will go on living. This is a fine body. Healthy.”
    “But . can’t . peal—feel—a damn . . thing . from . chin . down.”
    “Lucky you,” said the Doctor. “Because we’ve got you restrained all over against the day—soon, I hope”—but never, more likely, he added to himself—“when you will start feeling your entire new body. When that day comes, you may jerk uncontrollably—if we didn’t have you restrained. Then you’ll have to go to work and learn to control your body. Like a new baby. Practice. Possibly long and tedious practice.”
    “How . . . long?”
    “I don’t know. Dr. Boyle’s chimps made it rather quickly, I understand. But it might take you as long as it takes a baby to learn to walk. But why worry about that now? You’re got a new body, good for many, many years—why, you might be the first human being to live two hundred years. So don’t be in a hurry. Now rest, please—I’ve got to examine you. Chin screen, Nurse.”
    “The patient’s eyes are covered, Doctor.”
    “Ah, yes, so they are. Mr. Smith, when Dr. Feinstein arrives, we will see if he wants to expose your eyes to light today. In the meantime—uncover the patient, Nurse.”
    Uncovered, the new body was still mostly covered. A plastic corset “iron lung” encased the torso from chin to pubis; arms and legs were strapped and the straps cushioned; urethral and anal catheters were in place and secured; two blood vessels were in use, one for nourishment, the other for monitoring; four others were prepared for use but currently stopped off. Wires were here and there. The body inside this dismal mess could have been one that Michelangelo would have treasured but the assemblage of artifact and protoplasm could seem beautiful only to a medical specialist.
    Dr. Hedrick seemed pleased. He took a stylus from his pocket, suddenly scratched the sole of the right foot—got the reflex he expected, got no response from Johann Smith, also as expected.
    “Dr. Hedrick?” came a voice from the bed console.
    “Yes.”
    “Dr. Feinstein is operating.”
    “Very well.” He indicated to a nurse that he wanted the body covered. “Did you hear that, Mr. Smith? Your ophthalmologist is in surgery, can’t see you today. Just as well, as you have had enough for one day. It’s time for you to sleep.”
    “No. You . . do . . it. My . . eyes.”
    “No. We wait for Dr. Feinstein.”
    “No! You . are . in . charge.”
    “So I am and your eyes won’t be touched until your specialist is present.”
    “Damn . . you. Get . . Jake . . Sal . o . mon!”
    “Mr. Salomon is in Europe, will be notified that you are awake, and he may possibly be here tomorrow. I couldn’t say. In the meantime I want you to rest. Sleep.”
    “Won’t!”
    “Ah, but you will.” Dr. Hedrick pointed to Dr. Brenner, nodded. “As you pointed out, I am in charge. Want to know why I am certain you will sleep? Because we are slowing your breathing rate and introducing into your bloodstream a harmless drug that will insure that you do sleep. So good night, Mr. Smith, and again—my congratulations.”
    “Damn . . your . . . ins—. insuffera—” Johann Smith slept.
    Once he half roused.