Rheya kept on making the same harsh gasping sound as I stumbled along the corridor, no longer feeling the cold, only her breath on my neck, burning like fire.
I lowered Rheya onto the operating table and pulled the dressing-gown open. Her face was contorted with pain, the lips covered by a thick, black layer of frozen blood, the tongue a mass of sparkling ice crystals.
Liquid oxygen… The Dewar bottles in the work-room contained liquid oxygen. Splinters of glass had crunched underfoot as I carried Rheya out. How much of it had she swallowed? It didn’t matter. Her trachea, throat and lungs must be burnt away — liquid oxygen corrodes flesh more effectively than strong acids. Her breathing was more and more labored, with a dry sound like tearing paper. Her eyes were closed. She was dying.
I looked across at the big, glass-fronted cabinets, crammed with instruments and drugs. Tracheotomy? Intubation? She had no lungs! I stared at shelves full of colored bottles and cartons. She went on, gasping hoarsely, and a wisp of vapor drifted out of her open mouth.
Thermophores…
I started looking for them, then changed my mind, ran to another cupboard and turned out boxes of ampoules. Now a hypodermic — where are they? — here — needs sterilizing. I fumbled with the lid of the sterilizer, but my numb fingers had lost all sensation and would not bend.
The harsh rattle grew louder, and Rheya’s eyes were open when I reached the table. I opened my mouth to say her name but my voice had gone and my lips would not obey me. My face did not belong to me; it was a plaster mask.
Rheya’s ribs were heaving under the white skin. The ice-crystals had melted and her wet hair was entangled in the headrest. And she was looking at me.
“Rheya!” It was all I could say. I stood paralyzed, my hands dangling uselessly, until a burning sensation mounted from my legs and attacked my lips and eyelids.
A drop of blood melted and slanted down her cheek. Her tongue quivered and receded. The labored panting went on.
I could feel no pulse in her wrist, and put my ear against her frozen breast. Faintly, behind the raging blizzard, her heart was beating so fast that I could not count the beats, and I remained crouched over her, with my eyes closed. Something brushed my head — Rheya’s hand in my hair. I stood up.
“Kris!” A harsh gasp.
I took her hand, and the answering pressure made my bones creak. Then her face screwed up with agony, and she lost consciousness again. Her eyes turned up, a guttural rattle tore at her throat, and her body arched with convulsions. It was all I could do to keep her on the operating table; she broke free and her head cracked against a porcelain basin. I dragged her back, and struggled to hold her down, but violent spasms kept jerking her out of my grasp. I was pouring with sweat, and my legs were like jelly. When the convulsions abated, I tried to make her lie flat, but her chest thrust out to gulp at the air. Suddenly her eyes were staring out at me from behind the frightful blood-stained mask of her face. “Kris… how long… how long?” She choked. Pink foam appeared at her mouth, and the convulsions racked her again. With my last reserves of strength I bore down on her shoulders, and she fell back. Her teeth chattered loudly.
“No, no, no,” she whimpered suddenly, and I thought that death was near.
But the spasms resumed, and again I had to hold her down. Now and then she swallowed drily, and her ribs heaved. Then the eyelids half closed over the unseeing eyes, and she stiffened. This must be the end. I did not even try to wipe the foam from her mouth. A distant ringing throbbed in my head. I was waiting for her final breath before my strength failed and I collapsed to the ground.
She went on breathing, and the rasp was now only a light sigh. Her chest, which had stopped heaving, moved again to the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat. Color was returning to her cheeks. Still I did not realize what was happening. My hands were clammy, and I heard as if through layers of cotton wool, yet the ringing sound continued. Rheya’s eyelids moved, and our eyes met.
I could not speak her name from behind the mask of my face. All I could do was look at her.
She turned her head and looked round the room. Somewhere behind me, in another world, a tap dripped. Rheya levered herself up on her elbow. I recoiled, and again our eyes met.
“It… it didn’t work,” she stammered. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Then she screamed out loud: “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Still I could say nothing. She examined her hands, moved her fingers…
“Is this me?”
My lips formed her name, and she repeated it as a question — “Rheya?”
She let herself slide off the operating table, staggered, regained her balance and took a few steps. She was moving in a daze, and looking at me without appearing to see me.
“Rheya? But… I am not Rheya. Who am I then? And you, what about you?” Her eyes widened and sparkled, and an astonished smile lit up her face. “And you, Kris. Perhaps you too…”
I had backed away until I came up against the wall. The smile vanished.
“No. You are afraid. I can’t take any more of this, I can’t… I didn’t know, I still don’t understand. It’s not possible.” Her clenched fists struck her chest. “What else could I think, except that I was Rheya! Maybe you believe this is all an act? It isn’t, I swear it isn’t.”
Something snapped in my mind, and I went to put my arms round her, but she fought free:
“Don’t touch me! Leave me alone! I disgust you, I know I do. Keep away! I’m not Rheya…”
We screamed at each other and Rheya tried to keep me at arms’ length. I would not let her go, and at last she let her head fall to my shoulder. We were on our knees, breathless and exhausted.
“Kris… what do I have to do to put a stop to this?”
“Be quiet!”
“You don’t know!” She lifted her head and stared at me. “It can’t be done, can it?”
“Please….”
“I really tried… No, go away. I disgust you — and myself, I disgust myself. If I only knew how…”
“You would kill yourself.”
“Yes.”
“But I want you to stay alive. I want you here, more than anything.”
“You’re lying.”
“Tell me what I have to do to convince you. You are here. You exist. I can’t see any further than that.”
“It can’t possibly be true, because I am not Rheya.”
“Then who are you?”
There was a long silence. Then she bowed her head and murmured:
“Rheya… But I know that I am not the woman you once loved.”
“Yes. But that was a long time ago. That past does not exist, but you do, here and now. Don’t you see?”
She shook her head:
“I know that it was kindness that made you behave as you did, but there is nothing to be done. That first morning when I found myself waiting by your bed for you to wake up, I knew nothing. I can hardly believe it was only three days ago. I behaved like a lunatic. Everything was misty. I didn’t remember anything, wasn’t surprised by anything. It was like recovering from a drugged sleep, or a long illness. It even occurred to me that I might have been ill and you didn’t want to tell me. Then a few things happened to set me thinking — you know what I mean. So after you met that man in the library and you refused to tell me anything, I made up my mind to listen to that tape. That was the only time I have lied to you, Kris. When you were looking for the tape-recorder, I knew where it was. I’d hidden it. The man who recorded the tape — what was his name?”
“Gibarian.”
“Yes, Gibarian — he explained everything. Although I still don’t understand. The only thing missing was that I can’t… that there is no end. He didn’t mention that, or if he did it was after you woke up and I had to switch off. But I heard enough to realize that I am not a human being, only an instrument.”