“I do talk to them,” she said. “One especially, and it says that it likes
talking to me. I try not to favor any particular patient, but this one is more
distressed than the others. I shouldn’t be talking to it as I’m not qualified to
treat it, but nobody else can or will do anything for the patient.”
Tarsedth’s fur rippled with concern. “Is it terminal?” “I don’t know. I don’t
think so,” Cha Thrat replied. “It’s been a ward patient for a very long time.
Seniors examine it sometimes with advanced trainees present, and Thornnastor
spoke to it when the Diagnostician was in the ward with another patient, but not
to ask about its condition. I haven’t access to its case history, but I’m pretty
sure that the medication prescribed for it is palliative rather than curative.
It is not neglected or ill treated so much as politely ignored. I’m the only one
who will listen to its symptoms, so it talks to me at every opportu-nity. I
shouldn’t talk to it, not until I know what’s wrong with it, because I’m not
qualified.”
The movement of Tarsedth’s fur settled down to a more even rhythm as it said,
“Nonsense! Everybody is qualified to talk, and a bit of verbal sympathy and
encouragement can’t harm your patient. But if its condition is incurable, your
ward water would be teeming with Diagnosticians and Seniors intent on proving
otherwise. That’s the way things work here; nobody gives up on anybody. And your
patient’s problem will give you something to think about while you do the less
attractive jobs. Or don’t you want to talk to it?”
“Yes,” Cha Thrat said, “I’m very sorry for the great, suffering brute, and I
want to help it. But I’m beginning to wonder if it is a ruler, in which case I
should not be talking to it.”
“Whatever it is, or was, on Chalderescol,” Tarsedth said, “has no bearing, or
shouldn’t have, on its treatment as a patient. What harm can a little nonmedical
sympathy and encouragement do either of you? Frankly, I don’t see your
difficulty.”
Patiently Cha Thrat said again, “I’m not qualified.”
Tarsedth’s fur was moving in a manner that denoted impatience. “I still don’t
understand you. Talk, don’t talk to it. Do whatever you want to do.”
“I have talked to it,” Cha Thrat said, “and that’s what worries me— Is something
wrong?”
“Can’t it leave me alone!” said Tarsedth, its fur tufting into angry spikes.
“I’m sure that’s Cresk-Sar coming this way, and it’s seen our trainee badges.
The first question it will ask is why we aren’t studying. Can’t we ever escape
from its infuriating ‘I have .questions for you’ routine?”
The Senior Physician detached itself from a group of two other Nidians and a
Melfan who had been movingtoward the water’s edge and stopped, looking down at
them.
“I have questions for both of you,” it said inevitably, but unexpectedly went
on. “Are you able to relax in this place? Does it enable you to forget all about
your work? Your Charge Nurses? Me?”
“How can we forget about you,” Tarsedth said, “when you’re here, and ready to
ask us why we’re here?”
The Kelgian’s seeming rudeness was unavoidable, Cha Thrat knew, but her reply
would have to be more diplomatic.
“The answer to all four questions is, not entirely,” she said. “We were relaxing
but were discussing problems relating to our work.”
“Good,” Cresk-Sar said. “I would not want you to forget your work, or me,
entirely. Have you a particular problem or question that I can answer for you
before I rejoin my friends?”
Tarsedth was burrowing deeper into the artificial sand and pointedly ignoring
their tutor who, now that it was off duty, seemed to Cha Thrat to be a much less
obnoxious Nidian. Cresk-Sar deserved a polite response, even though the recent
topic of discussion, the psychological and emotional problems associated with
the removal of other-species body wastes, was not an area in which a Senior
Physician would have firsthand experience. Perhaps she could ask a general
question that would satisfy both the social requirements of the situation and
her own curiosity.
“As trainees,” Cha Thrat said, “we are assigned to the less pleasant, nonmedical