“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 conned you into placing yourself in a dangerous situation. Also, it displays a predilection for mathematics.”
“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 Rhennius machine, with frequent reference to a manual he carried in his pouch. It was not that I was squeamish. Well, maybe it was.
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 Rhennius machine, M’mrm’mlrr swayed and concentrated-or whatever he did-to cause what was taking place to take place. A bit of moon showed through the skylight. The hall echoed the least sound and was cold as a tomb.