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"Things? Ready? What things? How?"
"We should be hearing shortly. It is all tied in, though, with the nature of the thing. In light of M'mrm'mirr's findings, Paul has worked out some ideas as to what happened and what can be done about it."
Paul took the pause that followed as a cue and said, "Yes. Picture it this way: You have a synthetic life form that can apparently be switched on and off by means of isometric reversals. Its ‘on' condition, characterized by life functions, is a product of left-handedness. This, as you know, is the normal form amino acids take here on Earth, also; L-amino acids, as they are called. Turn them into their stereoisomer-D-amino acids-and in the case of our specimen, it goes into the ‘off' position. Now, when I examined the star-stone, the optical effects indicated the dextral situation. ‘Off.' All right. I was not thinking along these lines, but now we know a lot more. We know you were drinking the night you got blood on it. We know that grain alcohol has a symmetrical molecule and that if it could react with the specimen in one isometric state it might do it in the other also. Either it is a flaw in its design or an intentionally engineered capability. This we do not know. M'mrm'mirr learned that it did its best communicating with you, however, in the presence of this molecule-so it does seem to stimulate conversation. Whatever, you excited it sufficiently to enable it to partially activate itself and enter your system by way of the incision in your hand. After this exertion, it lay dormant for a long while, as you are not much of a drinker. Every now and then it gained a little stimulation, though, and tried to contact you via one sensory route or another. The medication Ragma administered to you after Australia revived it somewhat as it involved some ethyl alcohol. The night you were drinking with Hal, however, was the breakthrough. If it could persuade you to reverse yourself by means of the Rhe
"Can you?"
"We think so."
"But you still have no idea what it does?"
"It is a very sophisticated living machine of unknown function that co
"Some sort of computer, then?"
"M'mrm'mlrr does not think so. He believes it to be a secondary function."
"I wonder why it didn't get back in touch with me after it was switched on?"
"There was still the barrier."
"What barrier?"
"The matter of stereoisomers. Only this time it was you who were reversed. Then, too, it had gotten what it wanted."
"Give it its due," said Ragma. "It did do one thing for him."
"What was that?" I asked.
"I did not do anything for you back at the hospital," he said. "When I removed the dressing and performed a number of tests, I found that you were already completely healed. Your parasite apparently took care of it."
"Then it seems as if he is trying to be a benign little guy."
"Well, if anything should happen to you ... "
"Granted, granted. But what about the side effects of the reversal on me?"
"I am not at all certain that he realizes what it could eventually lead to."
"It seems strange that if he is intelligent and he and M'mrm'mlrr were in contact he did not offer any explanation as to what has been going on."
"There was small time for amenities," Ragma said. "The doctor had to act quickly to freeze him."
"More of his assault philosophy? It hardly seems fair-"
The telephone rang. Paul answered it, and all of his responses were monosyllables. It lasted perhaps half a minute and then he hung up and turned to Ragma.
"Ready," he said.
"All right," Ragma replied.
"What is ready?" I asked.
"That was Ted," Paul told me. "He is across the street. He had to get authorization-and the key-to open up the place. We are all going over now."
"To rereverse me?"
"Right," said Ragma.
"Do you know how to do it?" I asked. "That machine has several settings. I tested its program once, and I have a great respect for the variations it can toss off."
"Charv will be meeting us there," he replied, "and he is bringing along a copy of the operator's manual."
Paul moved off into the bedroom, returned pushing a padded cart.
"Give me a hand with the leafy bloke, will you, Fred?" he said.
"Sure."
It was with very mixed feelings that I moved forward and did so, taking care the while not to get any more of the slop on me.
As we pushed Doctor M'mrm'mlrr through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk, the reflection of a neon sign seemed, in the after-image of a blinking, to read DO YOU SMELL ME DED?
"Yes," I muttered under my breath. "Tell me what to do."
"Our Snark is a Boojum," came a whisper as we were crossing the street.
When I looked around, of course, there was no one there.
Chapter 11
I felt no real change with the disengagement that Ragma told me was taking place. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on Charv, who was going round and round, fiddling with the Rhe
The incision in my left arm stung a bit but was not especially painful. Ragma had wanted to avoid the introduction of additional chemicals of unknown effect to the area, which was understandable, and I was partially successful in setting up a biofeedback block. So my bared left arm rested on a previously white hotel towel, which I was brightening and darkening here and there beneath the area where he had swabbed alcohol, slashed me and applied more alcohol. I was resting in a swivel chair belonging to one of the guards we had relieved, trying not to think about the eviction of the star-stone from my premises. It was taking place, all right. I could tell that from the expressions on Paul's and Nadler's faces.
Situated right beside the base of the Rhe
I was not really certain that what was being done was the right thing. On the other hand, I could not be sure that it was not. It was not the same thing as doublecrossing a friend or betraying a confidence, or anything like that, both because my guest had been of the uninvited variety and because I had given him what he was after-viz., namely & to wit, I had turned him on.
Still, though, echoing up from the chambers of my memory came the thought that he had given me the legal citation I had needed back when I was searching for something to keep them from spiriting me away. And he had put my chest together again. And he had promised to clarify everything, eventually.
But my metabolism meant a lot to me, and that spell on the bus and my experience of being controlled back in the hospital were also distressing. I had made my decision. Second thoughts were now a waste of time and emotion. I waited.
Our Snark is a Boojum!
There it was again, desperate-sounding this time, followed by the superimposition of massive teeth framed by upward curving lips on the far wall. Then fading, fading ... Gone.
"We have him!" said Ragma, slapping a pad of gauze onto my arm. "Hold that in place for a while."
"Right."
It was only then that I ventured a look.
The star-stone was there on the towel. Not quite as I remembered it, for its shape was somewhat altered and its colors seemed more vivid-near to pulsing.