Level 7

MAY 12

I am quite well now. And a proper married man too.

P seemed quite worried about my stomach trouble when we met again yesterday. This was perfectly natural in a newly-wedded woman, and it prompted me to ask her why she had not visited me in the hospital. She said she had been told no visitors were allowed. Apparently the rule is quite inflexible.

I wonder why this should be. I suppose it is considered better to hide sick people away, not only for reasons of hygiene, but to preserve the morale of their healthy friends. It is always depressing to visit a person in the hospital, and if you do not see for yourself how ill a patient is you are more likely to assume that no news (or the vague information which doctors begrudgingly allow you) is good news.

Incidentally P had a touch of indigestion herself, as might have been expected, but it was not enough to stop her working.

I find her more pleasant now. In conversation her tongue is not so sharp. Indeed she talks less altogether.

Our time of privacy is 16.15 to 17.00 hours each day—4.15 to 5.00 in the afternoon. We are lucky in this respect: some people get it at 4.15 a.m. On second thoughts, I suppose it would not make much difference. The working hours of many of the crew—myself included—are scheduled on a 24-hour basis, and down here ‘day’ and ‘night’ mean very little. Regular private meetings with P will enliven my daily routine, which is all to the good, not to mention the other benefits which marriage should bring with it—even on Level 7.

The desire to discuss mythologies with R-747 has not returned. As a matter of fact, I have hardly spoken to her since I came out of the hospital. Yesterday and today I spent my time in the lounge chatting with P. And P actually tried to draw R-747 into the conversation. A strange metamorphosis in our relationship.