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After so many years in the Consciousness Pool, I am finding it difficult to
adjust to human life. I know this is not a dream, yet I find myself acting as
if it were. I must remember that I am inhabiting a human, though however
briefly, and that I am inhabiting that human for a purpose. I must not allow
my host to be killed before my mission is accomplished. Once the project has
been disposed of, it does not matter what happens to Gary Carmody's body. I
will cause it to have an accident or dispose of itself in suicide, if its
death cannot be accommodated by those around it whom I will cause to be its
enemy.
They are not sure yet that I am who I am, but I know, with Gary
Carmody in the tank as well as Gary Carmody in Room 862, the question will be
raised, for these people are not unintelligent. I must be wary in all my
actions.
I am now asleep in a private room here, a beautiful place by contemporary
standards, though I have been in far more beautiful places in dreams. There is
oxygen here, should I need it, and television in color, which is much like
dreaming, though in no sense like the real dreams since it is two-dimensional
and only has sound and vision. Very primitive when compared to the night
journeys that we populate, Adrea.
Still, the people, according to Gary Carmody's memory, are hypnotized by it
and spend long hours watching these tiny squares of colored motion. I had seen
television in our dreams but I had never paid any attention to it before.
Adrea, I think it is marvelous what you have been able to do With
Gary Carmody in the tank. Keep your control of this man. If he were to be
allowed to communicate with others on the project it would certainly harm my
actions. I think it is well, even if it is in violation of the rules, that you
act as a buffer to others in the Consciousness Pool who might inadvertently
contact the man. He is safe there until I turn off his life support system. I
know Dr. Keegan, Dr. Easton and Dr. Nevis are trying to communicate with him,
too, but if you maintain your militant control over his essence and prevent
him from moving in any way, they will soon lose interest in him.
I feel like a prisoner in this body. As I have said, not for years have I
felt running blood and a beating heart. Inhabiting a body is disgusting, for
one is then prone to all the glandular functions that flesh is heir to. I
am referring principally to this body's physical yearning for Dr.
Kathleen Keegan, whom Gary Carmody thinks of as his love. What he seeks to do
with Kate, as he calls her, is of no interest to me, but while I
am imprisoned here in his body through my own will and volition, I am subject
to it. I had forgotten what carnal appetite is like. It is a wonder humans
ever get anything done when their thoughts seem to stray into the erotic area
so often. I am always having to pull
Gary Carmody's attention over to other things.
I still sleep but I sense there is someone in the room with me now and so I
must break off with you again, Adrea, and prepare myself for the total
awakening of this body to deal with whoever it is. Probably someone from the
project.
Yes, Adrea, I will be on my guard. Have no fear. I, Aleppo, am in command of
this situation.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kate hurried to Room 862 and found Gary asleep. this was Gary who
If was occupying the bed. She went in and took a chair near him. She would sit
there until he woke up; she was certain that once he had wakened she would be
able to tell who it was.
Whatever had been wrong with him physically was now right, for his face was
calm, his color the flush of good health, and his breathing regular. She
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reached for his wrist, felt for a pulse and found it a fine 72.
She had seen the chart results of the trauma he had suffered; his cardiac
output had been low, his central venous pressure was low, as was his blood
volume and blood pressure. It was then that his pulse rate was rapid and he
looked like death warmed over. It was gratifying to seee him now.
Perhaps he was all right and her fears were groundless and the problem of the
figure in the tank and the same figure here on the bed would be resolved.
She had just got up and walked over to the window to look out on the broad
avenues that comprised the Meta Complex when she heard a voice.
"Kate."
It was Gary's voice. But of course it would be his voice. Her heart had jumped
when he said her name, and now she knew she must turn and look at him and she
didn't want to for fear of what she might discover.
She turned, steeling herself.
The eyes. They were warm. The mouth; it was appealing and wore a wry smile.
His manner was disarming.
She approached the bed. She must be careful. No strangling for Dr.
Kathleen Keegan; she would stay out of the way of those arms until she was
sure.
"Kate." It was the way he always said it.
"Gary," she said, taking the chair again and allowing herself a chance to
flirt with death by taking his hand. "How are you, darling?"
Gary put his other hand to his head. "Right now I'm okay, but for a while
there& " He shook his head. "What happened, anyway?"
"We brought you back," she said carefully. "You were fighting with
Aleppo, the sword had fallen, and he was beginning to choke you."
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