24/c ser c/ count 10,000 lymphoc. /mm3
25/c ser c/ count 14,500 lymphoc. /mm3
26/d check re/count 15,000 lymphoc. /mm3
DIAG (???) What are accompanying physical signs! If the spleen and lymph nodes show enlargement, then:
ReDIAG: Patient (name? file?) in late stages of severe infection.
Support: Histamine count, blood protein level (call), phagocyte count (call)
DIAG (???) (Blood sample inconclusive): If anemia, pain in joints, hemorrhage, fever:
ReDIAG: Incipient lymphocytic leukemia
Support: Not a good fit, no support but lymphocyte count.
Edward asked for a hard copy of the analysis and the printer quietly produced a tight-packed page of figures. He looked it over, frowning deeply, folded it and stuck it in his coat pocket. The urine test seemed normal enough; the blood was unlike any he had ever seen before. He didn’t need to test the stool to make up his mind on a course of action: put the man in the hospital, under observation. Edward dialed Vergil’s number on the phone in his office.
On the second ring, a noncommittal female voice answered, “Ulam’s house, Candice here.”
“Could I speak to Vergil, please?”
“Whom may I say is calling?” Her tone was almost comically formal.
“Edward. He knows me.”
“Of course. You’re the doctor. Fix him up. Fix up everybody.” A hand muffled the mouthpiece and she called out, somewhat raucously, “Vergil!”
Vergil answered with a breathless “Edward! What’s up?”
“Hello, Vergil. I have some results, not very conclusive. But I want to talk with you, here, in the hospital.”
“What do the results say?”
“That you are a very ill person.”
“Nonsense.”
“I’m just telling you what the machine says. High lymphocyte count—”
“Of course, that fits perfectly—”
“And a very weird variety of proteins and other debris floating around in your blood. Histamines. You look like a fellow dying of severe infection.”
There was silence on Vergil’s end, then, “I’m not dying.”
“I think you should come in, let others check you over. And who was that on the phone—Candice? She—”
“No. Edward, I went to you for help. Nobody else. You know how I feel about hospitals.”
Edward laughed grimly. “Vergil, I’m not competent to figure this out.”
“I told you what it was. Now you have to help me control it.”
“That’s crazy, that’s bullshit, Vergil!” Edward clamped his hand on his knee and pinched hard. “Sorry. I’m not taking this well. I hope you understand why.”
“I hope you understand how I’m feeling, right now. I’m sort of high, Edward. And more than a little afraid. And proud. Does that make sense?”
“Vergil, I—”
“Come to the apartment. Let’s talk and figure out what to do next.”
“I’m on duty, Vergil.”
“When can you come out?”
“I’m on for the next five days. This evening, maybe. After dinner.”
“Just you, nobody else,” Vergil said.
“Okay.” He took down directions. It would take him about seventy minutes to get to La Jolla; he told Vergil he would be there by nine.
Gail was home before Edward, who offered to fix a quickie dinner for them. “Raincheck the night out?”
She took the news of his trip glumly and didn’t say much as she helped chop vegetables for a salad. “I’d like to have you look at some of the videos,” she said as they ate, giving him a sidewise glance. Her nursery class had been involved in video art projects for a week; she was proud of the results.
“Is there time?” he asked diplomatically. They had weathered some rocky times before getting married, almost splitting up. When new difficulties arose, they tended to be overly delicate now, tiptoeing around the main issues.
“Probably not,” Gail admitted. She stabbed at a piece of raw zucchini. “What’s wrong with Vergil this time?”
“This time?”
“Yeah. He’s done this before. When he was working for Westinghouse and he got into that copyright mess.”
“Freelancing for them.”
“Yeah. What can you do for him now?”
“I’m not even sure what the problem is,” Edward said, being more evasive than he wanted.
“Secret?”
“No. Maybe. But weird.”
“Is he ill?”
Edward cocked his head and lifted a hand: Who knows?
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“Not right now.” Edward’s smile, an attempt to placate, obviously only irritated her more. “He asked me not to.”
“Could he get you in trouble?”
Edward hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t think so,” he said.
“Coming back what time tonight?”
“As soon as I can,” he said. He stroked her face with the tips of his fingers. “Don’t be mad,” he suggested softly.
“Oh, no,” she said emphatically. “Never that.”
Edward began the drive to La Jolla in an ambiguous mood; whenever he thought about Vergil’s condition, it was as if he entered a different universe. The rules changed, and Edward was not sure he had even the inkling of an outcome.
He took the La Jolla Village Drive exit and wandered down Torrey Pines Road into the city. Modest and very expensive homes vied for space with three and four-story apartment buildings and condominiums along curving, sloping streets. Bicyclists and the perennial joggers wore brightly colored jumpsuits to ward off the cool night air; even at this hour of the night, La Jolla was active with strollers and exercisers.
He found a parking space with little difficulty and deftly pulled the Volkswagen in. Locking the door, he sniffed the sea air and wondered if he and Gail could afford to move. The rent would be very steep, the commute would be long. He decided he wasn’t that concerned with status. Still, the neighborhood was nice—410 Pearl Street, not the best the town had to offer, but more than he could afford, now at least. It was simply Vergil’s way to fall into opportunities like the condominium. On the other hand, Edward decided as he buzzed at the ground level door, he wouldn’t want Vergil’s luck if it accompanied the rest of the package.
The elevator played bland music and displayed little hologram clips advertising condos for sale, various products and social activities for the upcoming week. On the third floor, Edward walked past imitation Louis 15th furniture and gold-marbled mirrors.
Vergil opened the door on the first ring and motioned him inside. He wore a checked robe with long sleeves and carpet slippers. His fingers twisted an unlit pipe in one hand as he walked into the living room and sat down, saying nothing. “You have an infection,” Edward reiterated, showing him the printout.
“Oh?” Vergil looked the paper over quickly, then set it down on the glass coffee table. “That’s what the machine says.”
“Yes, well, apparently it isn’t prepared for such odd cases.”
“Perhaps not, but I’d advise—”
“I know. Sorry to be rude, Edward, but what’s a hospital going to do for me? I’d sooner take a computer into a shopful of cavemen and ask them to fix it. These figures… they undoubtedly show something, but we aren’t able to decide what.”
Edward removed his coat. “Listen. You have me worried now.” Vergil’s expression changed slowly to a kind of frantic beatitude. He squinted at the ceiling and pursed his lips.
“Where’s Candice?”
“Out for the evening. We’re not getting along too well right now.”
“She knows?”
Vergil smirked. “How could she not know? She sees me naked every night.” He turned away from Edward as he said that. He was lying.
“Are you stoned?”
He shook his head, then nodded once, very slow. “Listening,” he said.