A Thousand Deaths by George Alec Effinger Page B

either when I started," said Daan.
    "Then why won't you continue? I don't even know where to start. You're a lot better at this than I'll be."
    Daan looked very sad. "The day before yesterday, I made a significant discovery," he said.  
    "Oh?"
    "I discovered that I'm not a prisoner. I'm a patient."
    Courane was startled. He swallowed hard, but was unable to think of an appropriate reply.
    "I was sledding in some firewood with Arthur and I fell apart. I can't remember what it was like, but Arthur said it lasted only about three or four minutes. I know what it must have looked like, though. I've seen it often enough. One crazy guy screaming and another guy patting him on the shoulder saying, 'There, there.' After a hundred and twenty-five years, that's the best we can do: There, there.' "
    Courane, embarrassed, kept his attention on the pages of notes, but he couldn't focus his eyes on them.
    "I suggested some things you might investigate first," said Daan.
    "Thanks," muttered Courane. The shock of Daan's illness probably disturbed him more than it bothered Daan. It was a death sentence, and it was taking away a good man and a friend.
    "Try to find out if the disease is hereditary or caused by conditions in the environment. Try to see if TECT can guess about possible prevention and treatment measures, based on any kind of relation to other brain disorders. Make wild guesses and try them out. That's not the scientific way to go about an experiment, but we don't have the time and the luxury to afford the rigorous method."
    "I'll do my best," said Courane. "I really will."
    "It's too late for me," said Daan. "But see if you can't do something for the people who come after me."
    Courane tried to keep his promise, even though he hadn't had enough education to understand most of what TECT told him, or the imagination to know the best way to pursue the matter. He accepted Daan's advice and dug into the nature of memory and diseases of the neurological system. He received a lot of answers from TECT, most of them couched in impenetrable jargon, some of them apparently almost devoid of meaning. But by staying with the task, Courane was able to learn valuable bits of genuine information, and each bit was won with difficulty from a grudging TECT.
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    "Well, Mom, this is good-bye."
    Courane's mother tried to keep from crying, but a single tear escaped and betrayed her concern. She wiped it away and tried to pretend that it hadn't happened. "Will you call?" she asked.
    "New York, Mom. I've always wanted to live there. How could TECT have known? This is one of the best things that's ever happened to me."
    She acted as though she hadn't heard him say a word. "Call me as soon as you get there. You have to find a place to stay first. Don't be in a hurry and don't rent the first apartment you see. Make sure it's in a good neighborhood. Then call me and tell me all about it. I'll be worried until I hear from you, Sandy."
    Courane was just a little upset by his mother's anxiety. "You know what it's like, Mom," he said. "You've seen pictures. There aren't any good neighborhoods in New York. It isn't like Greusching."
    "That's what I'm worried about, Sandy."
    "Well, don't worry."
    They looked at each other for a moment. Courane shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He set his suitcase down on the carpet.
    "I wish I could help you," she said, "but I know this is something you have to do by yourself."
    "TECT ordered me to New York, not you and Dad." Courane smiled; he really was very excited. He wanted to go to the top of the Continental State Building and go skating in Representative Plaza and take the subway out to the Coney Island reconstruction.
    "Yes, I know."
    Courane was unhappy about his mother's reaction. She seemed much more distraught than when he had left to go to Pilessio. "What's wrong, Mom?" he asked. "You look like you're really suffering."
    She patted at her cheeks. "Do I? I'm sorry, Sandy, I don't mean to. You're my son