Voyage to Alpha Centauri: A Novel (29 page)

   As he continues to undergo treatment, he will participate as usual in the normal routine of onboard life. We encourage you to exercise every effort at kindness and patience toward him personally, for this great man is ever worthy of our respect.

   Sincerely,

   [signed]

   Dr. Karl Skinner, Director, Department of Social Infrastructure

   Dr. Elif Larson, Deputy Director

I had just completed a second reading of this masterful bit of troubleshooting, when a knock came upon my door, and my two gendarmes appeared. They explained that they had a mandate to accompany me to the Concourse B medical clinic. What in tarnation is a “mandate”! I’m getting really sick of this kind of verbal sludge. Couldn’t they just say “order”? I went along with them, docile as a lamb. Were they about to have me incarcerated and heavily drugged? Possibly, but I took some comfort in the fact that DSI’s smooth letter indicated otherwise.

As it turned out, they had been sent to conduct me to see my personal physician. Pia was waiting for us at the clinic, looking cool and professionally distanced from me. Had they got to her too? She explained to me, without losing eye contact, that a change in my medication had been “mandated” and that the pharmacy had already sent it to her. She turned away to a dispensary shelf, and began to prepare my new pill. The gendarmes stood aside, but did not depart; apparently, they would make sure I took my medicine like a man.

Pia handed me a tiny polyplast pill cup, and another of water.

“Here we are, Dr. Hoyos”, she said in the deadpan tone of a detached physician.

I tossed both pill and water down my throat, wondering what would happen next.

The gendarmes cordially said good-bye to Pia, whom they addressed as “Dr. Sidotra”, told me I could go about my business as I wished, and then they departed.

“Dr. Hoyos,” she said, making my heart sink with the formality of it, “you’ll be feeling a lot better within days.”

“Uh, thank you, Dr. Sidotra. Can you tell me what this new pill is? What is it going to do to me?”

She turned away from me and penciled something on a scrap of paper.

She said: “It’s something that will help you with your mood swings. It will also help you stay on an even keel.”

She handed me the paper, on which was written:
Placebo. Meet me deck C 2100 hrs. Munch alcove
. “Thanks”, I mumbled, and left.

For the better part of what remained of the morning, I shuffled along Concourse C, feeling somewhat depressed in a natural sort of way, but basically still my good old self. I inspected every art alcove on that deck, wondering what on earth a Munch alcove was. “Munch” as in “chew”? Would we meet beneath a painting or sculpture of a mouth? Or had she misspelled a word? Finally, I found it by looking a bit closer at the label beneath a painting of a distressed man with wide open mouth under a writhing, bloody-looking sky. Its title was
The Scream
. It was by an artist named Edvard Munch, interestingly a Norwegian like Elif Larson. Was this Pia’s sly humor at work?

Nothing much happened for the remainder of the day. Whenever I ventured forth from my room for meals, the people I encountered in line were invariably kind, patient, and respectful, though they kept their distance. Most did not engage in eye contact, and others passed me in the hallway as if I didn’t exist.

At 9
P.M.
, I went downstairs to C and along the concourse to the alcove, where I found that Pia had already arrived, pretending nervously to inspect the painting with avid aesthetic interest.

I cleared my throat.

“Neil, Neil”, she said as she came forward and took my hands. “I’m so sorry about that awful scene in the clinic. I had to do it.”

“You gave me a placebo, your note said.”

“Yes. Thankfully, the enforcers didn’t see what I was doing at the dispensary table. They’re supposed to stand watch while you take your pill every morning. After a few days, I think, when they’re convinced you’re a docile patient, they’ll leave it all to me.”

“What were they trying to give me?”

“A double dose of your previous anti-psychotic medicine, plus some added ingredients to spike your irrational behavior.”

“Pia, thank you. Thank you for taking this risk.”

“Now, we need to discuss the appropriate behavior that results from this medication. When you come to the clinic in the mornings, I want you to walk a little more slowly each time and look a little more distracted.”

“You mean I should seem sort of not there?”

“Yes, but not too much at first. Day by day, can you become increasingly more apathetic and inappropriate?”

“I’m always inappropriate.”

“You should say odd things out of the blue, not really connected to what’s being discussed, as if your mind is elsewhere than involved in what’s in front of you. You don’t have to behave like you’re insane, just disconnected. Can you remember that?”

“I’ll try.”

“I’ll be acting like a competent servant of the system, and I’ll be somewhat cold to you. It means nothing.”

“I know that, sweetie”, I smiled and kissed her on the cheek. She gently pushed me away.

“Neil, we must never—I mean
never
—presume that in public offices or private rooms there isn’t an audio device picking up what we say. I’ve had a pretty good look at this alcove and there’s nothing I can see that indicates surveillance. If there
is
something here, well, then the whole thing’s shot anyway.” She scowled at the ceiling and walls. “But I think we do have some hopes.”

“What hopes—and to what end?” I asked gloomily.

“I can’t explain that now. What I can tell you is that the Med exec has sent down a memo telling me to keep an eye on you for any symptoms of suicidal thoughts. That worries me.”

“Me too. A nice clean suicide would solve all their problems.”

“I want you to do something else for me. Will you please go swimming tonight at 0100 hours? If you see that there are more than one or two people in the pool, just go back to your room and wait. Return to the pool an hour later. If there’s only one other person there besides yourself, then you can go in.”

“Uh, Pia, have you considered that swimming in the middle of the night is kind of a counterproductive strategy? Drowning is a nice clean way to go, suicidally I mean.”

“You’re not going to drown. Not while I can do anything about it. Please, just do as I ask.”

“All right.”

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life, lady.”

“Okay, then, here goes conspiracy number two.”

Day 2409
:

Dutifully, I arose at half past midnight, donned my shorts and T-shirt, slung a towel around my shoulders, and went out for a swim. I avoided the elevator, thinking that this would be a typical surveillance hot spot, ideal for overhearing conversations. Maybe they had installed botfly larva here or a tapeworm head. Perhaps not, but I felt that over-caution was the best approach. Descending the stairs to level D and making the long trek to the recreation complex on that floor took about half an hour, so I arrived somewhat later than I had planned. Gazing through the pool windows, I saw that there was only one other person present. The doors whisked aside at my command, and I entered.

The man in the pool was doing laps. I sat on the edge with my feet dangling in the water and watched him go from one end to the other. He did not seem to notice my presence, which is usual with these strong, silent types. I had no idea why Pia had asked me to come here at this time, and thought that she would soon arrive. Doubtless, we would talk in relative privacy and plan a few more evasionary tactics. If she did not appear at the end of the hour, I would go back to my room and try to get some sleep.

Stripping off my shirt, I eased into the shallow end, where I floated and paddled about for a while, keeping my eye on the other swimmer. It was unlikely he would be a suicide assister, but a lot of improbable things had happened during the voyage, and I didn’t want any unpleasant surprises. I was very tired, and feeling some nervous strain as well. After a few lateral paddle-laps, I pulled my flagging body out of the water and sat on the edge, catching my breath and dabbling my feet.

I stared a long time at my defective lower leg and ankle. The surgeons had straightened it out considerably, but it was still as ugly as a Sonoran desert toad, and it continued to pain me whenever I walked too long on it.

“
Ay, caramba
! You didn’t pay attention”, I murmured for the ten-thousandth time since that bad day in the arroyo. “You weren’t watching. One slip, one little slip, and you pay for it the rest of your life.”

In that state of mild despondency combined with fatigue, I had failed to notice that the other swimmer had come to the edge of the pool and was standing in the water less than ten feet away. His chest heaving from exertion, he had his arms folded on the tiles with his head on his forearms.

“That’s a lot of laps”, I said.

“I do hundred tonight. It was good”, he replied in a Slavic accent.

“Well done.”

Catching my eye, he stared at me intently, then gazed at the ceiling, and deliberately in every other direction. Then back to me.

“Dr. Hoyos,” he said loudly, “I am sorry you do not feel very well at this time.”

“I’m all right,” I shrugged.

“It is unfortunate you have—how do you say it? It is sad you feel delusion. I am sorry if my word is not okay, maybe not polite to you.”

“Don’t worry. The language barrier hits us all.”

“Or we hit it”, he said in a lowered voice.

I glanced at him. His eyes were communicating something. It was personal engagement of sort, not an indifferent examination of a poor deranged specimen of humanity.

“We have speak cover”, he murmured. “Now we speak under it.”

“What?”

“I am Pia’s friend.”

“Ah, you’re Paul.”

He nodded. “I have things to tell you, for good hope.”

“I certainly need a dose of that.”

He smiled and raised his voice: “Medication help you, Dr. Hoyos. Don’t worry.”

I raised my voice: “I hope it helps. Sometimes I think clearly, but then things go strange in my mind. Did you see the paper I handed out?”

“I hear about it. It is imagine, yes?”

“I . . . I think so. Yes, I suppose it was all in my mind. I feel badly about doing that. The missing guy, well, I wonder if he was real or if

“Yes, because is long flight. Maybe sometimes people hallucin . . . ate. It is problem. But medicine help.”

He lowered his voice: “Pia explain everything to me. Down the toilet, little bad pill.”

“Down the toilet, little bad pill. But I’m worried about the missing man. Did he go down the toilet too? Or is that another hallucination?”

“Dr. Hoyos”, Paul whispered. “Do not fear. I believe you. Some in flight crew believe you. I give your paper to many on KC. I give to Captain.”

I gazed at him with new attention.

He continued: “Captain can do nothing under KC level. He is Captain of
Kosmos
but not Captain of people. You understand?”

“I understand.”

“Loud now. Cover.”

“Okay, you first.”

Paul said loudly: “You should go to computer, Dr. Hoyos. See if man you say is gone was really there. I think it not. No man like him is in files. You will see it.”

“Yes, you’re probably right. It’s the sickness. It’s my condition. . .”

Quietly, he said: “The Captain has private communication access with Earth-base. Nobody can touch this, only Captain. He only has code. He send message yesterday. It is years to go there. Then, even if swift, it is more years for answer to come back to us.”

“What did he say to Earth-base?”

“I think everything. He does not like DSI. They try to boss him sometime. But he make them back down.”

Paul switched to loud mode: “Swimming is good for thinking. It will make you happy, Dr. Hoyos. Take medicine, swim, be happy.”

“Thanks for the advice. I don’t know if I can come often, but I’ll try. I feel pretty tired all the time.”

“Swim every day. Then you feel good. Like me.”

“Like you”, I smiled. “You
are
good.”

Loudly again: “Okay, now I do ten more laps. Then I go upstairs to sleep.”

“Yup, I should go get some sleep too. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you”, he said, then whispered: “
Bog blagoslovit vas
.”

Before I could ask for a translation, he flipped back into the water and launched himself toward the other end of the pool.

Day 2410
:

The gendarmes roused me at 9
A.M.
to conduct me to the clinic. Along the way, I dragged my feet more than usual and yawned a lot. I said things like, “When does the sun come up?” and “I don’t remember this street.” They did not respond. Dutifully, they deposited me in front of Pia and stood aside as she handed me my cup with the imitation little bad pill. I knocked it back, and then said, “I sure feel sleepy lately.”

“That’s to be expected, Dr. Hoyos. The medication will help your body rest more easily, which will enable your mind to recover more quickly.”

“Oh. That’s good. Is it all right if I keep swimming?”

“Yes, swimming will help you relax and take your mind off things. I encourage you to spend a moderate amount of time in the pool each day. But don’t overexert yourself.”

“I won’t. Uh, Doctor, do you know what time the sun comes up?”

She frowned and said, “On the ship, we have regulated periods of light and darkness. Do you realize you’re in a space craft, Dr. Hoyos?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. I forgot.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. These gentlemen will bring you.”

“Thanks, Dr. Sidotra. These are good boys.”

“I can see they are, Dr. Hoyos.”

The good boys departed. I lingered a minute, long enough to accept an ironic smile from Pia. She handed me a small slip of paper, which I pocketed.

“Have a nice day”, she called after me as I left.