Made them send me home, but they insisted on rigging this steel frame around my neck. It was screwed into my collar bones, the back of my neck, and my skull. Couldn't rotate my neck at all — had to turn my whole upper body to look left or right. Felt like a cyborg.
All the medics wanted to write about me, but Doc had first call on that. Said it would help him get his license back. How could I refuse after the way he'd shown up when I needed him? Put two restrictions on him, though: He couldn't use my name, and he had to wait til I'd settled the score with the NeuroNex people.
Doc brought me home. The urch opened my compartment door before we reached it. Iggy was sitting on his shoulder.
"Mr. Dreyer, Mr. Dreyer! You're back home!" He was fairly trembling with excitement. "So glad, so glad!"
"What're you doing here?"
"Living. Keeping clean. Feeding doggie." He stroked Iggy's flank.
"That's not a dog, that's a lizard."
Doc said, "B.B.'s going to help take care of you, Sig."
The urch tried to take my hand and lead me over to my chair. Shook him off.
"Don't need help." Eased myself into the chair and let it form around my back. It accomodated the brace easily.
"You most certainly do," Doc said. "I'm going to teach B.B. here how to apply the neurostimulators to your neck to keep the healing process going at its accelerated rate."
Glanced around my compartment. It was clean — much cleaner than the autoservice ever left it.
"How'd you get in here?" I said. The door was keyed to my palm. There was a key I could give to someone else if I chose, but I hadn't given it to anyone.
"Never left."
"You mean to tell me you've spent a whole week here without leaving even once?"
He smiled at me. "Sure. Got food, got bed, got shower, got vid. Lots of vid. Watch all day and night." He spread his arms and turned in a slow circle. "Filamentous heaven."
Looking at his scrubbed, happy face I could see that he really believed he had found heaven. Maybe he had. He must have been living around the vid set, and must have been practicing his Realpeople talk because he was much better, much smoother. And his body looked a little plumper. He was still a stick drawing, but with heavier lines.
"Leave me any food?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Think you can fix us some lunch?"
"Lunch? Oh, yes! Most certainly yes!" He said as he scurried over to the kitchen console.
He had definitely been watching a lot of vid.
Doc winked at me. "He's going to work out just fine!"
Said nothing as I watched that skinny little monkey dart around my compartment like it was his own. Didn't like the idea of living with someone but could see I was going to have to get used to it, at least for the time being.
— 14-
Had to admit it: The urch came in handy. He learned to handle the bone and neurostimulators in nothing flat and was religious about the treatment schedule. He massaged my slowly strengthening limbs, maintained the compartment, and ran errands.
He also kept up a constant flow of chatter. Mostly questions. The kid was an information sponge, a black hole for knowledge. He knew next to nothing about the world and anything I could tell him was a major new discovery. B.B. looked on me as a font of learning. Thought I was the greatest guy walking this earth. Didn't know anyone else who saw me that way. Kind of nice. Made me want to live up to his expectations.
He also kept me distracted enough with the treatments and his incessant talk that I didn't miss the buttons too much. Not yet, at least. Wasn't sure how I'd have made it through those first few days without him.
"Never did tell me how you knew somebody'd used molly wire on me," I said on my third day home as he ran the bone stimulator against my neck. The hum traveled up the back of my head and buzzed in my ears.
"We use alla time un'ground."
"So you told me, but you didn't tell me what for."
"Rats."
"Explain."
"We tie across runs and over hidey-holes, sort like…" His voice trailed off.
Sort of like what happened to me.
Could tell he was embarrassed, so I let him off the hook: "Guess that keeps them away from your food stores."
"Uh. Rats are food un'ground."
My stomach did a little flipflop.
"I see." Decided this was a good time to change the subject. "By the way, what does 'B.B.' stand for, anyway?"
"Baby Boy."
"Oh."
My throat was suddenly tight and achy.
Just then we had a visit from officialdom: Complex Security came calling. Recognized the uniform and the droopy-lidded face that went with it. Had seen him around the complex over the years.
"You Sigmundo Dreyer?" he asked from the threshhold after the door had been cued open. He was staring at my neck brace.
"Who wants to know?"
"We had a complaint about a foul odor coming from this end of the corridor."
"Really? What kind of odor?"
"Said it smelled like something dead."
A chill raced through my bloodstream. "Well, sniff for yourself. You smell anything?"
He shook his head. "Not a thing."
"Who made the complaint?"
Already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it confirmed.
"Anonymous."
Thought so.
"Consider the source," I said.
He smiled, gave me a little salute, and left.
"We got trouble."
"S'wrong?" B.B. said.
I'd been talking to myself — sometimes I think better out loud. Decided to bounce my thoughts off the urch.
"That wasn't a crank complaint, or a mistake. That was somebody checking up to see why I haven't been reported dead."
"How they know you not?" His face screwed up in concentration. "And how they find out where you live so they can wire door?"
Held up my right thumb. "The cashless society. You'll never have the problem, but every time a Realperson uses his credit, he leaves all sorts of vital statistics behind — name, address, credit record. They've doubtlessly been checking with Central Data to see official confirmation of my death. Naturally, it hasn't appeared. They figure my body's rotting in here so they try to get the complex's security force to do their checking for them. When my name fails to be listed as deceased tomorrow, they'll come by to finish the job."
Didn't know what to do. Still too weak to take the battle to them, but didn't want to go back to the hospital.
B.B. was suddenly very agitated.
"You think they c'mere? Really try again?"
"That's what I'd do. But don't worry," I said with a confidence I didn't feel. "We'll just keep the door sealed tight and wait till I'm fully healed up."
"W'if they blow door?"
Hadn't thought of that.
"That would make a little too much noise, I'd think."
Tried to sound confident, but if they wanted me bad enough, it was an option: Show up dressed in a holosuit, blow the door, strafe the room with blaster fire, and take off.
"N'good, san," B.B. said, up and pacing about. His speech was deteriorating by the minute. "N'good, n'good." He turned and darted for the door.
"Hey! Where're you going?"
"Y'stay, san. I go. Gots go now."
And he was gone.
Thought he'd be back soon but dark came and still no sign of him. Missed two treatments for the first time since coming home from the hospital. Finally it got late and I got sleepy and so I turned in.