III
It was different in the morning.
One revolution around the sun had worked a completely new physical reality, as undeniable as a rock or long, shapely legs, and he noticed as he had the legs. The physical reality was comprised of puffy, red-outlined eyes and a red splotch on the arm. This was hard, sickening Newtonian fact, not the breathtaking ambiguity of Kuhn or the relativity of Einstein. It was just there, as the legs had been just there.
She felt different things than she had the day before. She had a new emotional reality, shaken, not self-assured. He noticed this too.
Their communication was normal now, in complete English sentences, not in half-articulated telepathy.
"What's the matter?", reading her new emotional reality with old-science certainty.
"I have a staff infection on my arm," and she rolled up her sleeve and showed him her skin.
She was a pre-med student with a major in biology. Her father, a physician, had had the same red splotch on his neck weeks before and it had sent him to the hospital. So of course she had had it swabbed and cultured. Of course, she knew that the culture could come back positive--there were only two finite outcomes, negative and positive. She had known that as certainly as she knew her physical existence and her nominal identity. But she had not been emotionally prepared for a + result.
He was not a scientist. "Does it hurt?" he asked.
"No, it is not painful. But it can kill if it goes to the brain or the heart."
Now time accelerated, propelled on by urgency.
"I have to leave". The brain sent the electrical signal to her vocal cords and mouth to generate that sound fact but her eyes darted, her mind raced.
"I have to go home to daddy."
"Where is home?"...
..."I have to go to South Bend to pack...Barnesboro."
Of course, he did not know where Barnesboro was but he could see her mind racing in her eyes and did not ask. Nor did he ask what the treatment for staff was nor how long the regimen. He was not a scientist.
"How will you get there?"
"I don't know, rent a car, bus, train, I'll figure it out." Her mind raced, her eyes darted. I have to get home and get this treated stat.
"The roads are terrible, this is February in Chicago. You are in no..."
I'm in no shape to drive. She did not answer.
...He thought he had better preface that with, "I have no doubt you are capable of driving or taking a bus or train, but you must know that you are not in an optimal state to drive alone or be driven by somebody you do not know. How long will it take to get where you need to go? When you came down just now you instantly pressed the urgency of time: 'I have to leave.' Is treatment for staff not time sensitive?"
It's an hour and a half to South Bend and seven hours to Barnesboro. She did not answer.
"I see it in your eyes: You know that bus and train do not conquer time for you. What would your father recommend as a physician? 'I can take a series of buses and trains and be in Boonsboro'...
..."Barnesboro."
"How far is Barnesboro from South Bend?"...
"Seven hours."
Now, it was non-verbal again, musical, a circular canon.
..." ' I can be in Barnesboro tonight or tomorrow at the latest depending on the roads, or I can be there in three or four or five days; you know what your father would say? I will drive you to South Bend and then to Barnesboro."
She did not answer. He saw her pause and took that as a good sign.
"I'll take you."
At that moment she was not a young she with long, shapely legs and he was not a young he. She was a human being of irrelevant gender who was in need and he was a human being of irrelevant gender whose family business it was to serve humans of irrelevant ascriptive characteristics.
Now her eyes stopped dancing and bored into his. "No..." But it was a "No" elongated by uncertainty. "It is too much of an imposition." The logistics were daunting and time-consuming, overwhelming to her brain, and fatiguing. She was needful.
"I will rent a 4-wheel drive," he offered. "We can switch off driving."
What about Dr. Walsh? Her mind raced at the speed of light which slowed time which was her deadly enemy. Thought took time. She was on a circular track of thought that would never lead to linear action. There is no time for decision-by-committee. This guy is here now. She cut the circle of inaction abruptly.
"Let's go." She took him.
Her decisiveness took his breath away. He inhaled deeply.
"I will go up and pack...Thank you." She was not so preoccupied to forget her manners and she was deeply grateful and she reached out with her hand and touched his forearm for emphasis. "Will you get the car? I'll only be a few minutes."
And so they went.
