To reach the section catering for the water-breathers necessitated a fifteen minute walk along some of the busiest corridors of the hospital. Entities of all shapes and sizes flapped, undulated and sometimes walked past them. Conway had become inured to being jostled by elephantine Tralthans and having to step carefully around the fragile, diminutive LSVOs, but the Creppelian was like an armor plated octopus walking on eggs-there were times when the AMSL seemed afraid to move. The bubbling sounds from its suit had increased noticeably, too.
Conway tried to make it relax by getting it to talk about its previous hospital experience, but without much success. Then suddenly they turned a corner and Conway saw his old friend Prilicla coming from a side ward…
The AMSL went “Wheep!” and its eight legs threshed frantically into reverse. One of them swung heavily into the back of Con way’s knees and he sat down violently. The octopoid took off down the corridor, still wheeping.
“What the blazes… !” said Conway , with what he thought later was commendable restraint.
“This is my fault entirely, I frightened it,” said Prilicla as it hurried up. “Are you hurt, Doctor?”
“You frightened it…
The gentle, spider-like creature from Cinruss apologized, “Yes, I’m afraid so. The combination of surprise and what seems to be a deeply rooted xenophobic neurosis caused a panic reaction. It is badly frightened but not completely out of control. Are you hurt, Doctor?”
“Just my feelings,” Conway growled, scrambling to his feet and going after the fleeing Creppelian, who was now out of sight and very nearly out of earshot.
His progress in the wake of the AMSL became a rapid zigzag that was half sprint and half waltz. To his superiors he called “Excuse me!” and to equals and inferiors he bawled “Gangway!” Almost at once he began to overtake the AMSL, proving once again that as an efficient means of locomotion two feet were much better than eight, and he was just drawing level when the being trapped itself neatly by turning into a linen storeroom. Conway skidded to a halt outside the still open door, went in and closed it firmly behind him.
As calmly as shortage of breath would allow he said, “Why did you run away?”
Words poured suddenly from the AMSL. The Translator filtered out all the emotional overtones but from the sheer rapidity of its speech he knew that the Creppelian was having the equivalent of hysterics, and as he listened he knew that Prilicla’s emotional reading had been right. Here was a xenophobic neurosis and no mistake.
O’Mara will get you if you don’t watch out, he thought grimly.
Given even the highest qualities of tolerance and mutual respect, there were still occasions when inter-racial friction occurred in the hospital. Potentially dangerous situations arose through ignorance or misunderstanding, or a being could develop xenophobia to a degree which affected its professional efficiency, mental stability, or both. An Earth human doctor, for instance, who had a subconscious fear of spiders would not be able to bring to bear on a Cinrusskin patient the proper degree of clinical detachment necessary for its treatment. And if one of the Cmrusskins, like Prilicla, were to treat such an Earth-human patient…
It was O’Mara’s job as Chief Psychologist to detect and eradicate such trouble-or if all else failed, to remove the potentially dangerous individuals-before such friction developed into open conflict. Conway did not know how O’Mara would react to a hulking great AMSL who fled in panic from such a fragile creature as Dr. Prilicla.
When the Creppelian’s outburst began to ease off Conway raised his hand for attention and said, “I realize now that Dr. Prilicla bears a physical resemblance to a species of small, amphibious predator native to your home world, and that in your youth you experienced an extremely harrowing incident with these animals. But Doctor Prilicla is not an animal and the resemblance is purely visual. Far from being a threat you could kill Prilicla if you were to touch it carelessly.
“Knowing this,” Conway ended seriously, “would you be frightened into running if you were to meet this being again?”
“I don’t know,” said the AMSL. “I might.”