Final Diagnosis

CHAPTER 24

Hewlitt returned to Sector General, but not as a patient and not to Ward Seven. Instead he had been assigned Earth-human DBDG single accommodation. Since patients like himself were not allowed to bring many personal possessions with them, the place was bare but comfortable. He was issued with a set of medic’s coveralls which, with the addition of a helmet and surgical gauntlets, doubled as a lightweight environmental protection suit. All direct physical contact with other people was forbidden, but the helmet was allowed to remain open because the intelligent virus was not transmissible by air. He was told not to go exploring within the hospital unless accompanied by one of Rhabwar’s medical team or a member of the Psychology Department. In the event, he was accompanied and questioned so much during the first three days that the compartment was used only for sleeping.

With great reluctance he had agreed to remain in the hospital, it being very difficult not to agree when Prilicla asked a favor, in the hope that he would be able to help find the virus creature’s current host. Counting all the patients and staff, there were more than ten thousand places for it to hide. When he told the other that his contribution would be negligible and he would rather go home, Prilicla had changed the subject.

Early on the fourth day, Braithwaite called to take him to what the lieutenant thought would probably be a lack-of-progress meeting in the chief psychologist’s office. As soon as they arrived it was clear that everyone had been waiting for them.

“Mr. Hewlitt, I am Diagnostician Conway,” said a tall Earthhuman whose features were shaded by his helmet. “For your benefit I shall outline the situation as simply as possible while hoping that you won’t be offended by the simplification. Please listen carefully and feel free to interrupt if you think it necessary.

“In order to avoid unnecessary speculation and consequent mental distress among the hospital personnel,” he went on, looking in turn at the people who were crowding Chief Psychologist O’Mara’s office, “I suggest that all knowledge of this search and its object be limited to those present, who are the only people with some idea of what we are looking for, and, naturally, the senior staff members who are already aware of the problem…

And the suggestion of a diagnostician, Hewlitt had learned, was nothing less than an entry in future history.

… even though it is extremely unlikely that we will find the entity in its natural state,” he continued, “which the last time I saw it was a fist-sized lump of pink, translucent jelly, although the coloration may have been due to a minor loss of blood while it was being surgically excised from Lonvellin’s body…

Major O’Mara, Hewlitt decided, had to be the elderly, sternfaced officer in Monitor green who was seated at the big desk with Braithwaite standing beside him and Conway and the Rhabwar medical team facing them. They were all wearing lightweight suits, including Prilicla, who was using a gravity nullifier pack to hover because its wings were tightly folded inside the protective envelope. Apart from Naydrad, who had found a physiologically suitable piece of furniture to occupy, everyone stood and listened in silence.

“There was no opportunity for a close study of the creature,” Conway said. “Being an intelligent life-form, we required its permission for such a thorough and, for it, perhaps hazardous investigation. The only communication channel available was its emotional radiation, which provided accurate information on its feelings but no clinical facts. When Lonvellin insisted that its personal physician be returned to it without delay, reabsorption took place in eight-point-three seconds via the mucosa of an eating orifice. Except for the presence of two sources of emotional radiation and the increase of body weight, which matched exactly that of the virus creature, we could detect no physical indication of its presence within the host.

“But we must find this indetectable parasite,” he continued, “and quickly. It is an intelligent organism that so far has tried to be helpful even though its attempts, in the Hewlitt case, caused longterm physical and psychological distress. But an organism that can jump the species barrier, and has absolutely no medical knowledge beyond its own limited experience, cannot be allowed to run loose inside a multispecies hospital.”

Conway paused to look at everyone in the room before returning his attention to Hewlitt. When he spoke, his voice was calm and clinical, but the emotional accompaniment was causing Prilicla to wobble badly in flight.

“It is imperative that we reduce the field of search,” he said, “either by eliminating certain individuals or groups who are possible hosts, or by concentrating our efforts on finding the probables. The psychology staff are already plugged into the grapevine in the hope of hearing gossip about patients whose condition has deteriorated following treatment, or who have improved suddenly for no apparent reason. They will pass their findings, if any, to us for clinical investigation. But in a hospital, patients’ conditions will worsen or improve normally without the help of our intelligent virus friend.

“As an ex- host with long-term, personal experience of the organism,” Conway ended, “do you have any suggestions that might help us?”

As the only nonmedic in the room, Hewlitt was surprised that a question had been directed at him first. He wondered whether Diagnostician Conway was being polite or feeling really desperate.

“I, I didn’t even know it was there,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Speaking for the first time, O’Mara said, “You must know something even though you may not realize you do. Were you ever aware of any thoughts or feelings that seemed foreign to you at the time, or of seeing people, objects, or events from a viewpoint that might not have been your own? Do you remember having strange dreams or nightmares, or of behaving in what seemed to be an un~ characteristic fashion? The creature’s occupation of your body was complete and physically traceless but your mind, even subconsciously, should have been aware of it. In retrospect, can you remember anything of that nature?

“Think carefully.”

Hewlitt shook his head. “Most of the time I felt very well, and at intervals very angry when I wasn’t well and nobody would believe I was sick. Now I know the reason for what was happening to me. But that thing was inside me for most of my life, so I don’t know how I would have felt if it hadn’t been there. I’m not being much help.

“Neither are you taking much time to think carefully,” said O’Mara dryly.

“Friend Hewlitt,” said Prilicla, who was sharing his feelings of embarrassment and irritation and wishing to reduce them, “we realize that the question is unreasonable because by its very nature the creature is undetectable. But consider this. For more than twenty years you have been occupied by an entity who had the ability to read your body’s genetic blueprint and, as when you accidentally poisoned yourself and suffered grave injuries in a fall and a flyer accident, restore you to optimum physical condition. This may have been simple self-preservation on its part, an evolutionary need to maintain a healthy and long-lived host. It is even possible that your friend derives pleasure and satisfaction from adapting itself to new life-forms. But maybe there is more. A highly intelligent being can be expected to have other, less selfish and more subtle feelings, like altruism, a sense of justice, or simple gratitude. It was able to share your emotions, at least those which were simple and most strongly felt, although those associated with your transition through puberty probably confused it as much as they did you. Some of them, those which led to the restoration of your dying pet and Patient Morredeth’s damaged fur, it understood well enough to be able to act on them.

“Did it do this because it was sharing your grief,” Prilicla went~ on, or was it simply taking advantage of the chance to explore another life-form? Either way, it left that kitten in a state of health that has been maintained long past the normal life expectancy for that species. It left you, Patient Morredeth, and, presumably, an as yet unknown number of others in the same condition of perfect health. We would like to know why. If friend O’Mara can gain some idea of how this entity is motivated, we will have a better chance of finding and trapping it.”

“I would help you if I could…“Hewlitt began, when the chief psychologist raised a hand.

“We know that,” said O’Mara. “This thinking entity occupied your body. It must have used your sensory input because it was aware, however imperfectly, of your outside world and was under your emotional direction during the incidents with the cat and Morredeth. I realize that the situation was abnormal in that you had no physical or psychological baseline with which to make comparisons. But if you were sharing sensory input and feelings, it is logical to assume that the process was two-way and that you had some awareness of the creature’s thought processes even though you did not recognize them for what they were.

“You probably think I am clutching at straws,” the chief psychologist ended. “I am. Well?”

Hewlitt was silent for a moment as he tried to organize his thoughts. Then he said, “I want to help you, Major O’Mara. But if I were to recall the memories and feelings of twenty-odd years, they might not be clear or accurate and some of them would be influenced or distorted by my present knowledge of what was really going on. Isn’t that so?”

The psychologist’s steady, grey eyes had been fixed on Hewlitt’s face since he had begun speaking. O’Mara said, “And the next word you say will be ‘But.’”

“But,” said Hewlitt obligingly, “the things that happened to me since my arrival in Sector General are clearer, and some of my feelings surprised me. To explain I have to go back to when I was a child.”

O’Mara continued staring at him. He seemed to have forgotten how to blink.

Hewlitt took a deep breath and went on. “I was too young at the time to be told or even to understand the cultural-contact reasons why all the off-worlders attached to Etla base were expected to show an example to the natives by other-sp~ies socializing, which included showing them the Tralthan, Orligian, Kelgian, or whoever’s children playing together, under supervision, of course. One day the supervisor happened to be looking at another area of the swimming pool when I was dragged under by a Melfan amphibian who thought that I could breathe water, too. It was an accident and I was more frightened than hurt, but I never attended the other-species playground again. My parents told me I would grow out of my fear, but they didn’t push it. That was the reason I was at home and, feeling bored, wandered off to explore and had that accident in the tree.

“From your monitoring of my conversation in the ward,” he continued, “you already know that my work on Earth is interesting but not exciting and never involved meetings with off-worlders. I saw them on the Earth-vision broadcasts but did not, as my parents had promised, grow out of my childhood fear of them. There were a few extraterrestrials attached to the hospitals I attended, but I refused to allow them anywhere near me, and believing that I was really a psychiatric case, my doctors agreed to keep their otherspecies medics away from me.

For a moment O’Mara’s eyes were hidden by a frown of impatience. He said, “Presumably this is leading us somewhere?”

“Probably nowhere,” Hewlitt went on, ignoring the sarcasm. “On the way here I was in the care of a great, hairy, self-opinionated Orligian medic who also thought it could effect a cure by convincing me that my problems were due to an overactive imagination. I knew consciously if not subconsciously that, in spite of its appearance, it would not harm me. It was the first other-species person I had met since childhood. I felt curiosity as well as fear in its presence, but disliked its manner too much to ask questions.

“Then I arrived here,” he continued quickly. “I was met by a Hudlar nurse, and on the way to and inside the ward I passed or lay close to creatures the like of which I had not imagined in my worst nightmares. Even though I knew they were medical staff or patients, I was still so terrified by them that for a long time I was afraid to go to sleep. But I was curious, too, and wanted to know more about them in spite of being afraid. I felt frightened by Charge Nurse Leethveeschi, but curious as well.”

Naydrad made a gurgling, untranslatable sound. Hewlitt ignored it, as did O’Mara and the others.

“Within a few hours,” he continued, “I was asking questions of the Hudlar, Leethveeschi, and Medalont. Next day I was talking and playing cards with other patients. The point I’m trying to make is that this was not the kind of behavior I expected of myself. The xenophobia I felt at the time was mine all right, but the intense and continuing curiosity about the other life-forms around me must have belonged to somebody else.”

For a moment it seemed that the office had become a still picture in which everyone was looking at him. Motion and sound returned when O’Mara nodded and spoke.

“You are right,” he said, “but not entirely. It seems that your parents were right and you did grow out of your fear of otherworlders within hours of your arrival here. Prilicla was greatly impressed by you. It tells me that when you met the medical team on Rhabwar for the first time, your xenophobia was minimal, well controlled, and temporary. This was at a time when the virus creature was no longer in occupation. Since the Morredeth incident when the virus left you, the curiosity and interest you felt regarding ETs was entirely your own.”

“I suppose that is a compliment,” said Hewlitt, smiling.

O’Mara scowled. “An observation,” he said. “My job here is to shrink heads, not swell them. But we may have something useful here. Can you describe this shared curiosity and its degree of intensity, and, assuming that the virus was principally interested in other life-forms as potential hosts, were you aware of this more selfish purpose behind your feeling of curiosity? For example, did you form the impression that the virus entity was able to move to another host of its own volition? And are you completely sure the transfer was dependent on your emotional state, as was the case with your cat and Morredeth? Try to recall your feelings, all of them, and take time to think about your answer.

“I don’t need time to think about it,” Hewlitt protested. “On the two occasions that the virus moved out of me I was feeling deep sympathy, so I cannot be absolutely sure if those feelings were necessary for the transfer. Where the cat was concerned, I held on to it all night, but the contact with Morredeth was over in a minute, maybe a little more. I remember wanting to pull my hands away because the stuff smeared over the wound and dressings felt unpleasant, but at first I couldn’t move my hands. When I did pull them away, I remember that my palms and fingers felt strange, there was a hot, tingling sensation in them that disappeared after a few seconds. It was probably subjective. I didn’t mention it before because at the time nobody was believing anything I said and it was probably unimportant anyway.

“And do you remember anything else that is probably unimportant?” said O’Mara.

Hewlitt took a deep breath and tried to ignore the sarcasm for Prilicla’s sake rather than the major’s, then said, “If we assume that physical contact is required for the creature to transfer to a new host, and it was continually interested in the possibility of making such a move, what about my interest in Leethveeschi and that doctor who drove into the ward in a pressurized tank? I am very sure that I wanted no physical contact with either of them, especially the charge nurse, so the curiosity could not have been mine. Does that mean the creature wastes its time on feelings that are impossible for it to fulfill, or is it capable of transferring itself to any living being regardless of species?”

O’Mara gave a short, irritated sigh. He said, “There was always the chance that you would add to the problem rather than help provide the solution. If you are right and our friend is not confined to transferring into warm-blooded oxygen-breathing hosts, that will seriously complicate our search.” He looked at the medics in turn. “Is such a radical, cross-species transfer possible?”

Diagnostician Conway was the first to speak. He said, “As close to impossible as makes no difference.

“Until Patient Hewlitt arrived among us,” said O’Mara with the sarcastic edge returning to his voice, “we thought it impossible for a microorganism that had evolved on one world to survive in a life-form from another.”

Conway did not take offense. He said, “That is why I said close to impossible, sir. However, there are major differences in the metabolism and life processes of a chlorine-breathing host, and the biochemical adaptation needed would be, again, close to impossible…”

“And who would want to live inside an Illensan anyway?” said Naydrad.

“As for more exotic life-forms like the TLTUs, SNLUs, or VTXMs,” he went on, ignoring the interruption and glancing toward Hewlitt to show that the explanation was for his benefit, “I would say with more confidence that they are completely unsuitable as hosts. The first breathes high-pressure, superheated steam in an environment which, in the old days, was used to sterilize infected surgical instruments. SNLUs are methane life-forms with a complex mineral and liquid crystalline structure which decomposes at temperatures in excess of eighteen degrees above absolute zero. As for the VTXMs, the Telfi are another hot life-form, not because of an elevated body temperature but because they need to absorb high levels of hard radiation to support their life processes.

“It follows that these three life-forms can be eliminated as potential hosts,” the diagnostician ended, “because a virus would be unable to survive in any of them.”

Before O’Mara could reply, Prilicla made an unsteady landing on top of an unoccupied piece of furniture. Its trembling was minor and of the kind, Hewlitt had discovered, indicating that it was nerving itself to the major effort of saying something disagreeable.

“It is possible that you are wrong, friend Conway,” it said. “And I, too, may be contributing to the problem rather than its solution because we cannot exclude the Telfi as possible hosts. Our virus was able to survive when its escape vehicle was in close proximity to the nuclear detonation that destroyed Lonvellin’s ship. The outer casing of the creature’s pod was partially melted and superficially damaged by flying wreckage, but it had also absorbed sufficient radiation for strong traces to be present after twenty-five years. At the time it took the young Hewlitt as a host, it had been occupying that pod and absorbing significantly higher, although diminishing, levels of radioactivity during the five years following the original contamination.”

“Oh,” said the diagnostician.

O’Mara actually smiled, although it was clear that his face muscles were unused to that form of exercise. He said, “Does anyone else want to make a fool of itself? Hewlitt, you are wanting to say something.”

For a moment Hewlitt wondered if the chief psychologist had an empathic faculty like Prilicla, then decided that it was probably the result of training, observation, and long experience. He shook his head and said, “It probably isn’t important.”

“If it isn’t,” said O’Mara, “I’ll be the first to let you know. Spit it out.”

Hewlitt was silent for a moment, wondering how such a thoroughly unsympathetic person had been able to survive and rise to a high position in a caring profession like psychiatry; then he said, “Something has been bothering me about the meeting with my cat on Etla. It was an ordinary, black-and-white cat, and big and fat instead of being the skinny near-kitten I remembered, but I recognized it. And even though I had changed physically, grown four or five times more massive and with marked differences in face and voice, it recognized and came toward me at once. You are probably thinking that I am being sentimental about a childhood pet…

“The thought had crossed my mind,” said O’Mara.

but I think it was more than fond memories,” Hewlitt went on, “because I had almost forgotten about that cat until I was admitted to the hospital and Lieutenant Braithwaite started questioning me about my childhood. It was as if there was a bond between us, a feeling almost of pride in some kind of shared experience that seemed to go beyond the child-and-his-pet relationship. The feeling is tenuous, very difficult to describe, and, well, it is probably due to all this talk about intelligent virus invasions. This time my imagination may really be running away with me. I should not have mentioned it.”

“But you did mention it,” said O’Mara, “even though doing so has caused you to feel embarrassed and even ridiculous. Or are you hoping that I, or one of the other fine, incisive, clinical minds here assembled, will decide whether or not it was worth mentioning?”

The fine, clinical minds in the room joined Hewlitt in remaining silent. He returned the other’s stare, wondering if O’Mara’s lids had been glued permanently in the open position.

“Very well,” the psychologist went on. “Think carefully about what you have just said and follow it through. The word ‘impossible’ has been used too loosely here, so I shall resist the temptation to use it again. Are you suggesting, however reluctantly, that this strange, tenuous, indescribable feeling that you had for your onetime pet, and which you believe it reciprocated, was a legacy that may have been left by your common viral invader? And are you also suggesting that the ex-hosts of the virus might share this peculiar, insubstantial feeling of a shared experience and be able to recognize each other? Presumably I am right because your face is becoming very red, but I would like verbal corroboration.”

“Yes, dammit,” said Hewlitt. “To both questions.

O’Mara nodded and said, “Which means that you could act as some kind of virus witch-finder with the ability to track down our quarry through its previous and, presumably, its present hosts. Naturally, we are grateful for any help you can give us but, well, apart from the instant recognition and the vague feelings you say you shared with the cat who, regrettably, is unable to offer corroboration, have you any other evidence, observations, or vague, indescribable feelings to support your contention?”

He looked away from O’Mara, feeling that the heat of his embarrassment must be warming the whole room.

“Friend O’Mara,” said Prilicla. “At the time the incident occurred I was aware of the feelings of the cat and friend Hewlitt. They were as described.”

“And as I suggested, little friend,” said O’Mara, “they were vague, indescribable, subjective, and probably useless.” He turned to his communicator, which was already live, and went on, “Has the Padre returned? Good, send it in.” To Hewlitt he said, “We have medical matters to discuss which do not require your presence. I feel sure that I have embarrassed you more than enough for one day. Thank you for your assistance. Padre Lioren will escort you to the dining hall.”

In the instant that the Tarlan entered the room it stopped dead, all four of its eyes directed at Hewlitt’s reddening face. He stared back at it, wanting to speak but knowing that he was going to be ridiculed again.

“Mr. Hewlitt,” said O’Mara in a voice whose sarcastic tone had been replaced by one of sympathy and concern. “You have many years’ experience of having your words disbelieved by the medical and psychiatric fraternity, so I hoped that your feelings would not be seriously wounded by my own incredulity. In the circumstances your reaction seems abnormal. Please, what is it that you are not wanting to tell me?”

“The vague feeling of recognition I was trying to describe,” said Hewlitt, raising a hand to point at Lioren, “is coming from the Padre.”

“I can confirm that,” said Prilicla.

For the first time since he had entered the office, Hewlitt saw the chief psychologist blink.