CV

14

The Executive Council always met in a conference room on the Upper Deck, because it was about halfway between the Control Center and the perm section. Most of the others were already there when Bliss and McNulty arrived—the five Town Council members, Ben Higpen, the mayor, and representatives from the fishing and hydroponics sections. Yvonne Barlow usually attended to represent the marine scientists, but she was in the hospital, and the marine people had not sent anybody else.

Bliss found a seat for McNulty and then went up to the head of the table to talk to Yetta Bernstein, the Council president. Yetta had her glasses on and was fussing with the papers in front of her.

“Mrs. Bernstein, pardon me,” said Bliss, leaning over. “I’ve got an item for the agenda, if you don’t mind.”

She fixed him with a steely glance. “Agenda items are supposed to be provided ten days before the meeting. You know that, Mr. Bliss.”

“I do, yes, but this is an emergency matter. A medical problem. I’ve brought Dr. McNulty to talk about it.”

“What kind of medical problem?”

“A threatened epidemic.”

“All right. I’ll put you down for number seven.”

Bliss said, “Thank you, Mrs. Bernstein.”

He went back to his seat. Items one through six concerned the hiring of a new mathematics teacher for the high school, problems with the air-conditioning system, a proposed change in the spring planting schedule, and similar matters. Bliss tuned out after a while.

“Item seven,” said Mrs. Bernstein. “A threatened epidemic. Dr. McNulty.”

McNulty looked startled; he cleared his throat. “Two days ago,” he said, “we started getting cases of what looks like an unknown infectious disease. I had two cases Monday, three more yesterday, and so far there are two new ones today. There are only eight beds in the hospital. We can cram another couple of beds in there, and maybe one more in the examination room, but that will be it. We’re going to need more space, and until we find out more about this, I think it ought to be in an isolation area.”

“What kind of disease is it?” asked the dentist, Ira Clark.

“It’s completely unfamiliar. The patients suddenly collapse, go into a stupor. We’re feeding them by stomach tube.”

“Mr. Bliss?” said Mrs. Bernstein.

Bliss said, “Dr. McNulty has asked me to clear out a section on the Upper Deck, near the hospital, and relocate the passengers elsewhere.”

“How big a section?”

Bliss raised an eyebrow at McNulty, who said, “No use doing it halfway. I’d like about a hundred rooms—that would be Corridor Thirteen from Corridor F to K. We’re going to need some nurses too.”

“Let’s do one thing at a time,” said Mrs. Bernstein. “Mr. Bliss, what’s your feeling about this?”

“I don’t see that we have much choice. It will show up on the balance sheets later on, of course.”

Mrs. Bernstein’s lips tightened. “Can you get that many passengers to move?”

“Oh, yes. They won’t be happy about it, though.”

“Dr. McNulty,” said another council member, “if we give you this hospital annex, or whatever you want to call it, can you contain the epidemic?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean that. The disease doesn’t seem to be communicable after the patient collapses. There’s a latency period. But I just think it would be a good idea to isolate the patients. We can’t have them all over the place, anyhow.”

“Any further comments?” Mrs. Bernstein asked.

“Call for a vote,” said Higpen.

“The motion is to approve clearing out a section of staterooms on the Upper Deck, from—what was it, Dr. McNulty?”

“Corridor Thirteen from F to K.”

“All right. In favor?” All the hands went up.

“Motion carried. Mr. Higpen, will you find out who we’ve got that has nursing experience, and coordinate with Mr. Bliss and Dr. McNulty?”

“Yes. I can think of three or four.”

“Meeting adjourned.”

As the others left, Mrs. Bernstein, Mayor Higpen and Ira Clark came toward them. “Let’s go in here and talk,” said Bernstein.

They sat at a circular table in the small room off the Council chamber. “Doctor, how serious is this?” Mrs. Bernstein asked.

“Hard to say. It’s got me buffaloed; doesn’t behave like any disease I ever heard of.”

Ira Clark, a scholarly looking man, leaned forward. “What are the symptoms before a person collapses?”

‘None that we know of. Well, there is one thing. A momentary dizziness or faintness a day or so before.”

“What if we asked everybody to report to you if they felt dizzy? Could we isolate them that way and keep this thing from spreading?”

“Maybe. That’s another can of worms, though. In a place this size, how many people feel dizzy? It’s a common experience, especially in older folks.”

“Would you be willing to try it?”

“Sure. Might need another hundred rooms, though.”

“Mr. Bliss?”

“Gentlemen, and Mrs. Bernstein,” said Bliss, spreading his hands, “I’m willing to do anything in reason, but can’t we go a little slower? For the moment, at least. Doctor, don’t you think a hundred rooms might be enough?”

“I guess so. If we run out, we can always ask for more space.”

McNulty’s phone beeped; he said, “Excuse me,” and took it out of his pocket. “McNulty.”

He listened a moment. “Okay, I’m coming.” He put the phone away and said, “Got another patient—that makes eight. I’ve got to go.”