F. Wilson - Dydeetown World

He was babbling. "Doc — "

"Do you realize that your neurons are still sending impulses from the brain to your arms. Oh, this is amazing, simply amazing! There's a little hematoma by the right jugular, but in general this is — "

Wanted to kick him but didn't have the strength. "Doc. Help. Please."

"I am helping."

He pulled out some gauzy stuff and started wrapping it around my throat, working it under my fingers and finally pushing them out of the way. Reluctant as hell to take my hands away, but it was an immense relief to finally let them drop to my sides.

Doc continued to babble as he worked.

"Amazing! Just amazing. I've got to hand it to you, Siggy. You showed real presence of mind. I mean, to know what had happened to you and assess the situation and do just what you had to do to keep your head on straight. Took real guts and a computer mind. Never knew you had it in you. I'm proud of you."

Thought about that and realized it must have been the residual effects of the super NDT that helped me zero in on what had happened and what to do about it so quickly. Doubt very much I could have done it purely on my own. Kind of liked the irony in that.

Doc looped the gauze under my arms and over the top of my head, then sprayed the whole mess with a pungent liquid. It hardened.

"What — ?"

"It's a cast of sorts for your neck. It'll hold everything in place until I can get you to a hospital."

"No hospital."

"No choice, my friend."

"They think I'm dead."

Wanted to keep it that way until I was fully recovered.

"They'll think right if I don't get you to a facility where somebody can staple that split vertebra together, reanastomose your major blood vessels and nerve trunks, and repair the damaged musculature. Even if you live, your spinal cord could start demyelinating and leave you a paraplegic, or a best a paraparetic."

"They'll come to finish me."

"I know a small private hospital where we can hide you away indefinitely. They'll — "

There was a thump on the door. I glanced over — with eyes only — and saw B.B. the urch slumped against my door, halfheartedly pounding on it. He was sobbing.

"Open it," I told Doc.

The door slid open and dropped one surprised urchin into my compartment. He looked at me and his reddened eyes fairly bulged out of his tearstreaked face.

"Dreyer-san! You…you're…"

"Alive?" I said.

"B'see'm spray, see'm smilee — "

"You were out there?" And then I remembered the blur I'd seen behind the guy who mollied me. Must have been B.B.

"Foll you fr'Elmero's, see'm spray, den foll'm all way back."

Wanted to cheer. "Back where?"

"Boed North. NeuroNex."

All right. That clinched it. My slip about urchins in front of the tech had put me on a hit list. Would have to risk Doc's private hospital. And when well enough — if I ever got well enough — I'd have a score to settle.

B.B. came over and gabbed my hand. Could barely feel it. There were fresh tears in his eyes.

"S'glad y'live, Dreyer-san."

" Mister Dreyer, urch."

A week later I was home. They hadn't wanted to let me go but I didn't care. Enough was enough. Would've had me living there for months if I'd allowed it but was more than ready after a week. They'd put everything back together the first day, then started electrostim treatments to make the bones and nerves heal faster. Felt like a lab rat after a while. They all wanted to talk to me, examine me. Sickening.

Made them send me home, but they insisted on rigging this steel frame around my neck. It was screwed into my collar bones, the back of my neck, and my skull. Couldn't rotate my neck at all — had to turn my whole upper body to look left or right. Felt like a cyborg.

All the medics wanted to write about me, but Doc had first call on that. Said it would help him get his license back. How could I refuse after the way he'd shown up when I needed him? Put two restrictions on him, though: He couldn't use my name, and he had to wait til I'd settled the score with the NeuroNex people.

Doc brought me home. The urch opened my compartment door before we reached it. Iggy was sitting on his shoulder.

"Mr. Dreyer, Mr. Dreyer! You're back home!" He was fairly trembling with excitement. "So glad, so glad!"

"What're you doing here?"

"Living. Keeping clean. Feeding doggie." He stroked Iggy's flank.

"That's not a dog, that's a lizard."

Doc said, "B.B.'s going to help take care of you, Sig."

The urch tried to take my hand and lead me over to my chair. Shook him off.

"Don't need help." Eased myself into the chair and let it form around my back. It accomodated the brace easily.

"You most certainly do," Doc said. "I'm going to teach B.B. here how to apply the neurostimulators to your neck to keep the healing process going at its accelerated rate."

Glanced around my compartment. It was clean — much cleaner than the autoservice ever left it.

"How'd you get in here?" I said. The door was keyed to my palm. There was a key I could give to someone else if I chose, but I hadn't given it to anyone.

"Never left."

"You mean to tell me you've spent a whole week here without leaving even once?"

He smiled at me. "Sure. Got food, got bed, got shower, got vid. Lots of vid. Watch all day and night." He spread his arms and turned in a slow circle. "Filamentous heaven."

Looking at his scrubbed, happy face I could see that he really believed he had found heaven. Maybe he had. He must have been living around the vid set, and must have been practicing his Realpeople talk because he was much better, much smoother. And his body looked a little plumper. He was still a stick drawing, but with heavier lines.

"Leave me any food?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Think you can fix us some lunch?"

"Lunch? Oh, yes! Most certainly yes!" He said as he scurried over to the kitchen console.

He had definitely been watching a lot of vid.

Doc winked at me. "He's going to work out just fine!"

Said nothing as I watched that skinny little monkey dart around my compartment like it was his own. Didn't like the idea of living with someone but could see I was going to have to get used to it, at least for the time being.

Had to admit it: The urch came in handy. He learned to handle the bone and neurostimulators in nothing flat and was religious about the treatment schedule. He massaged my slowly strengthening limbs, maintained the compartment, and ran errands.

He also kept up a constant flow of chatter. Mostly questions. The kid was an information sponge, a black hole for knowledge. He knew next to nothing about the world and anything I could tell him was a major new discovery. B.B. looked on me as a font of learning. Thought I was the greatest guy walking this earth. Didn't know anyone else who saw me that way. Kind of nice. Made me want to live up to his expectations.

He also kept me distracted enough with the treatments and his incessant talk that I didn't miss the buttons too much. Not yet, at least. Wasn't sure how I'd have made it through those first few days without him.

"Never did tell me how you knew somebody'd used molly wire on me," I said on my third day home as he ran the bone stimulator against my neck. The hum traveled up the back of my head and buzzed in my ears.

"We use alla time un'ground."

"So you told me, but you didn't tell me what for."

"Rats."

"Explain."

"We tie across runs and over hidey-holes, sort like…" His voice trailed off.

Sort of like what happened to me.

Could tell he was embarrassed, so I let him off the hook: "Guess that keeps them away from your food stores."

"Uh. Rats are food un'ground."