Holding Wonder

"I don't like questions!" he announced to Ainsworthy at the lunch table his first day at the Unit. "That's why I like this job of playing detective. I operate on the premise that if a valid question is asked there is an answer. If no answer is possible, the question has no validity!"
Ainsworthy blinked and managed a smile, "And who's to decide if an answer is possible or not?" he asked, wondering at such immaturity in a man of Northen's
professional stature.
"I decide!" Northen's laughter boomed. "Simplifies things. No answer-forget it! But if I think there is an answer-tenacity's my middle name!"
"Then you obviously think there is a clear-cut answer to the question that brought you here," said Ainsworthy.
"Obviously-" Northen pushed back from the table. "This is an inquiry into a real problem, not one of those airy nothings-And to forestall another obvious question I'm always being pestered with-I consider that I am only one biological incident in a long line of biological incidents and when I die, the incident of me is finished. I have no brief for all this research into nonsense about soul and spirit and other lives! One life is enough! I'm not greedy!" And his large laughter swung all faces toward him as he lumbered up to the coffee dispenser with his empty cup.
Ainsworthy reflectively tapped his own cup on the table top, repressing a sudden gush of dislike for Northen. It was thinking like his that was hampering the Beyond Research Units. How slow! How slow the progress towards answers to the unanswerables! Was it because Believers and Unbelievers alike were afraid of what the answers might be? Northen was back.
"You were at the briefing this morning?" he half-questioned as he sat down massively, his bulk shaking the table.
"Yes." Ainsworthy inspected his empty cup. "Something about the odd distribution of cures of KVIN, or, conversely, the deaths from KVIN:"
"That's right," Northen inhaled noisily of his coffee. "As you know, a complete blood replacement is the only known cure. Only it doesn't work all the time. Which means," he waggled a huge forefinger triumphantly, "that replacement is not the answer! At least not the whole answer. But that's not the question I'm currently pursuing. I want to know why there is a geographical distribution of the cures. KVIN is a fairly scarce disease. We've had less than fifty cases a year in the fifteen years we have studied it-that is, the cases reported to and cared for at a Regional. There have been, undoubtedly, more unreported and untreated, because if a patient is out of reach of a Regional Hospital and immediate treatment, he's dead in four hours or less. But we've had enough cases that a pattern is emerging." He hunched closer to the table and Ainsworthy rescued his cup and the sugar dispenser from tumbling to the floor.
"Look. A gets a dose of KVIN on the West Coast. Quick, quick! San Fran Regional. Replacement. Too bad. Dead as a mackerel. Now look. B and C gets doses at Albuquerque. Quick, quick! Denver Regional! Replacement. B lives dies. Personal idiosyncrasies? Perhaps, except without exception all A's die. Half of B's and C's live! "
And D gets a dose at Creston. Quick, quick! Central Regional! D always recovers! Same technique. Same handling of blood. Same every thing except patients. So. Different strains of KVIN? After all, different space ports-different space sectors-different factors. So, E picks up a dose on the Coast. Quick, quick! Central Regional. Replacement. Recovery!"
Northen hunched forward again, crowding the table tight against Ainsworthy.
"So transport all the A's and B's and C's to Central? Not enough blood supply. Bring in more from other Regionals. It won't work at Central any better than where it came from! So-See? An answer to find and definitely in this area.
Now all I need is a case to follow through to get me started."
It had fallen to Ainsworthy to escort Northen about the Unit, to acquaint him with the area and answer any questions he might have concerning procedures and facilities. The two were in the small public lounge one afternoon, pausing between activities while Northen groaned over his aching feet and legs.
"I'm used to skidders," he boomed. "Faster, more efficient, less wearing on the legs! Just step on, toe the switch-swish!" He gestured with a massive arm.
"This Unit is really too small for skidders," said Ainsworthy. "Occasionally we use flitters out in the grounds, but only a few bother. Most of us enjoy walking. I do especially, since it's my relaxant."
"Really?" Northen peered in astonishment at Ainsworthy. "Imagine! Walking by choice!"
"What's your relaxant?" Ainsworthy asked, remembering his manners. "Blowing up balloons," said Northen proudly, "until they break! Bang! Wham!" His arms flailed again. "There's satisfaction for you! They're finished! Gone! Destroyed! Only a rag of rubber and a puff of carbon dioxide left! And I did it!"
"Pleasant," murmured Ainsworthy, automatically falling into polite phraseology, wishing Northen's eyes would not follow so intently every face that passed, knowing he was waiting for someone to collapse from KVIN.
He wasn't long disappointed. As they toured Lab IIIC a few days later, one of the lab assistants, Kief, carefully replacing the beaker he had been displaying, took tight hold of the edge of the table, drew a quavering breath, whispered, "Away!" and collapsed as though every bone in his body had been dissolved, his still-open eyes conscious and frightened.
In the patterned flurry that followed, Northen was omnipresent, asking sharp questions, making brief notes, his rumpled hair fairly bristling with his intense interest and concentration.
The Healiocopter arrived and, receiving the patient, clacked away. Ainsworthy and Northen, in one of the Unit vehicles-a mutation of the jeep-swung out of the Unit parking lot and roared down the road to Central Regional, Northen struggling with the seat belt that cut a canyon across his bulk.
Northen peered at his notes as they bounced along. "How'd this Kief person know he had KVIN?" he asked.
"Don't know exactly," said Ainsworthy. "It varies from person to person. Clagget-the one before Kief, said a big brightness seemed to cut him in two right across the chest and then his legs fell off. Others feel all wadded up into a sticky black ball. Others feel as though each cell in their bodies is being picked away as if from a bunch of grapes. I guess it depends a lot on the person's imagination and his facility with words."
"And when he said, `Away' just before he collapsed. That was part of this picking away idea?"
"No," Ainsworthy felt a surge of reluctance. "Away is the settlement next to our Unit –a Detach."
"A Detach!" Ainsworthy smiled slightly, his ears battening down hatches against Northen's expected roar. "Don't tell me you have any of those-!" He
bit off the last part of his sentence and almost the tip of his tongue as the jeep regrettably bucketed up over a hump in the road.
"The people from Away are our main source of donors for replacements," said Ainsworthy over Northen's muttered curses. "In fact, they've adopted it as a community project. Regional knows it never has to look farther than Away for an adequate number of donors-as long as the cases don't come too close together, which, so far, they never have." They had arrived at the turn-off to Away and jolted off the fairly good Unit road to the well-maintained dirt road to the settlement.
"Surprises me that they'll give anything to the world. Thought they gave it up along with the Flesh and the Devil!" grunted Northen, lisping a little.
"Maybe the World, but not the people in it," said Ainsworthy. "The most generous people I know. Unselfish" He fell silent against Northen's barely contained disgust.