looked more like two or three miles. I built my courage,
dropped, felt skinny legs buckle. I crashed forward on my
face and lay there for a while, collecting my wits.
Was this what it was like for Child, this inability to
cope with the inadequacies of his own body, this helpless-
ness and dependence? No wonder his own search for a
purpose and identity had been so much more thorough
and extensive than my own.
I got on hands and knees and gripped the edge of the
bed for support, gained my feet again. The door was but a
dozen steps away. I toddled toward it, collapsed against it,
holding on to the knob to keep from taking another
serious fall.
Opening the door was a major chore, compounded by
the fact that I wanted to do it quietly. I didn’t want
anyone to know that I was awake now and moving
around. First, I wanted to find out a few things, attempt
to discover how long I had been trapped in Child’s mind.
And if I could somehow locate my own body—for, surely,
they were keeping it somewhere close at hand, in another
dark hospital room—and re-enter it before they were
aware I had returned, I would be in a better position to
take care of myself. I didn’t trust Morsfagen or any other
super-patriot professional soldier. The more ignorant I
was about what had transpired since I had gone mad
within Child, the further removed I was from my own
body and, therefore, autonomy, the more power they
would hold over me, the more they could demand and
perpetrate.
The door finally opened and gave a view of an empty
corridor that was painted a flat, unreflective blue. I
stepped out of the room, closed the door, and hung by the
wall, breathing heavily and trying to ignore the pain in the
sunken chest of the mutant body which I inhabited.
I didn’t care if I destroyed Child’s body during this
trek, for I had already destroyed Child himself by absorb-
ing his psychic energy back there in that blue-floored room
beneath the broken, ebony plain. He would never own his
body again. I could feel his intellect, devoid of any person-
ality now, within my own mind, magnifying my intelligence
and perceptions. But that was the only minim of Child’s
real self that would ever survive.
Pushing away from the wall, I started down the cor-
ridor. I could not expect it to remain empty for long, and
I would gain nothing by being seen here, before I had
learned anything of my situation. I weaved from wall to
wall, barely managing to keep my feet. And when the tall,
uniformed man appeared at the head of the stairwell and
shouted in surprise, I collapsed on my face….
When I woke, I was in the same hospital room, in the
same bed, with the metal slats raised around the sides to
keep me from falling out. There were differences, though.
There was plenty of light, and there was a nurse, a
buxom, gray-haired matron with a bland, pleasant face
and a concerned look plastered all over it. There was a
guard by the door, on the inside, his holster unsnapped.
Why I should be considered that much of a threat when I
could hardly even walk, I did not know. Morsfagen and a
white-smocked physician stood by the right side of my
bed, looking down at me. The physician exhibited concern
and professional interest. Morsfagen had a look of hatred
and sheer animal cunning.
“Welcome back,” he said.
“I’m thirsty,” I croaked, realizing for the first time how
parched my throat was.
The nurse brought me water, which I gulped eagerly.
The chips of ice rattled against my teeth, stung my gums.
But it was all quite good, better than expensive wine.
“No more water, no more anything until some questions
are answered,” the general said.
“Yes,” I replied.
“What has happened to Simeon Kelly?”
For a moment, I was surprised. Then I realized that
they had no way of knowing this wasn’t Child who had
awakened. It meant that there were other things they
could not know, things which would give me the upper