in the uppermost tier of seats and barely discernible in the shadows.
Dr. Dunlap had a device of some sort clamped to his head: there were electrodes taped to his temples, and wires from them led to a screen coated with some fluorescent material, which stood a few feet before him. On the screen danced a jagged pattern of lines—wave lengths of the electrical impulses of his brain, apparently—and the distinguished-looking doctor, leaning forward slightly, stared wide-eyed at them as if hypnotized.
“Can you give me an ‘all-clear?’” called Krankeit tersely, a small megaphone raised to his mouth.
“All clear!” replied Dunlap, tight-lipped.
“Ready for your little standby?” demanded Krankeit.
“Ready for little standby!” snapped Dunlap.
Krankeit leaned over into space, his keen eyes riveted to the patterned screen and the flashing instrument panel, as he lifted the miniature megaphone to his lips again.
“Ready for your little countdown?”
“Ready for little countdown!”
Krankeit regarded his wristwatch, stared at the sweeping second-hand.
“8. . . 7. . . stand by for standby. . .6. . . ready for ready . . . 5. . . 4. . . stand by! . . . 3. . . 2. . . 1! Ready for your big standby?” He was practically shouting now, and both men had the intensity of children at a game of magic.
“Ready for big standby!”
“Ready for your big countdown?”
“Ready for big countdown!”
“Stand by!” shouted Krankeit, and, as he continued, his voice took on an odd metallic quality as though it were coming through a large public-address system: “100 . . . 99 . . . 98 . . . 97 . . . 96 . . . 95 . . . 94 . . . 93 . . . 92 . . . 91 . . . 90 . . . 89 . . . 88 . . . 87 . . . 86 . . . 85 . . . 84 . . . 83 . . . 82 . . . 81 . . . 80 . . . 79 . . . 78 . . . 77 . . . 76 . . . 75 . . . 74 . . . 73 . . . 72 . . . 71 . . . 70 . . . 69 . . . 68 . . . 67 . . . 66 . . . 65 . . . 64 . . . 63 . . . 62 . . . 61. . . 60 . . . 59 . . . 58 . . . 57 . . . 56 . . . 55 . . . 54 . . . 53 . . . 52 . . . 51 . . . 50 . . . 49 . . . 48 . . . 47 . . . 46 . . . 45 . . . 44 . . . 43 . . . 42 . . . 41 . . . 40 . . . 39 . . . 38 . . . 37 . . . 36 . . . 35 . . . 34 . . . 33 . . . 32 . . . 31 . . . 30 . . . 29 . . . 28 . . . 27 . . . 26 . . . 25 . . . 24 . . . 23 . . . 22 . . . 21 . . . 20 . . . 19 . . . 18 . . . 17 . . . 16 . . . 15 . . . 14 . . . 13 . . . 12 . . . 11 . . . 10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5! . . . 4! . . . 3! . . . 2! . . . 1 . . . .
JACK OFF!”
Stationed at her tiny window, Candy looked on incredulously at what took place when Krankeit’s thunderous command had ceased echoing in the amphitheater. After a minute she turned weakly from the wall and said, “I think I’d better leave now, if you don’t mind. I’m afraid I’m getting a bit of a headache.”
“Don’t forget what I told you,” said Krankeit’s mother, eying her pugnaciously. “Leave Irving alone!”
She wandered again in the maze of white corridors, trying to find her way back to the sickroom. Walking slowly, she considered the outlandish things that had been happening to her—the scene with Dr. Dunlap, the strange meeting with Mrs. Semite, and now, this upsetting incident she’d witnessed in the amphitheater. She’d heard about Krankeit’s unprecedented theories from the nurse, of course, but seeing them put to practice had been something of a shock. She was disturbed, bewildered, and, more than anything else, she was terribly tired. She dabbed her moist forehead with a hanky and wished she could sit down. . . .
A few minutes later a burst of wild laughter, coming from one of the rooms, told her where the others were.
She opened the door and was presented with the spectacle of Uncle Jack and Luther performing a primitive dance together.
“Daddy” had gotten out of bed in his bathrobe and turban of bandages, and he and Luther were grunting and shuffle-stamping about each other in American Indian style. Luther was in his
Dr. Dunlap had a device of some sort clamped to his head: there were electrodes taped to his temples, and wires from them led to a screen coated with some fluorescent material, which stood a few feet before him. On the screen danced a jagged pattern of lines—wave lengths of the electrical impulses of his brain, apparently—and the distinguished-looking doctor, leaning forward slightly, stared wide-eyed at them as if hypnotized.
“Can you give me an ‘all-clear?’” called Krankeit tersely, a small megaphone raised to his mouth.
“All clear!” replied Dunlap, tight-lipped.
“Ready for your little standby?” demanded Krankeit.
“Ready for little standby!” snapped Dunlap.
Krankeit leaned over into space, his keen eyes riveted to the patterned screen and the flashing instrument panel, as he lifted the miniature megaphone to his lips again.
“Ready for your little countdown?”
“Ready for little countdown!”
Krankeit regarded his wristwatch, stared at the sweeping second-hand.
“8. . . 7. . . stand by for standby. . .6. . . ready for ready . . . 5. . . 4. . . stand by! . . . 3. . . 2. . . 1! Ready for your big standby?” He was practically shouting now, and both men had the intensity of children at a game of magic.
“Ready for big standby!”
“Ready for your big countdown?”
“Ready for big countdown!”
“Stand by!” shouted Krankeit, and, as he continued, his voice took on an odd metallic quality as though it were coming through a large public-address system: “100 . . . 99 . . . 98 . . . 97 . . . 96 . . . 95 . . . 94 . . . 93 . . . 92 . . . 91 . . . 90 . . . 89 . . . 88 . . . 87 . . . 86 . . . 85 . . . 84 . . . 83 . . . 82 . . . 81 . . . 80 . . . 79 . . . 78 . . . 77 . . . 76 . . . 75 . . . 74 . . . 73 . . . 72 . . . 71 . . . 70 . . . 69 . . . 68 . . . 67 . . . 66 . . . 65 . . . 64 . . . 63 . . . 62 . . . 61. . . 60 . . . 59 . . . 58 . . . 57 . . . 56 . . . 55 . . . 54 . . . 53 . . . 52 . . . 51 . . . 50 . . . 49 . . . 48 . . . 47 . . . 46 . . . 45 . . . 44 . . . 43 . . . 42 . . . 41 . . . 40 . . . 39 . . . 38 . . . 37 . . . 36 . . . 35 . . . 34 . . . 33 . . . 32 . . . 31 . . . 30 . . . 29 . . . 28 . . . 27 . . . 26 . . . 25 . . . 24 . . . 23 . . . 22 . . . 21 . . . 20 . . . 19 . . . 18 . . . 17 . . . 16 . . . 15 . . . 14 . . . 13 . . . 12 . . . 11 . . . 10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5! . . . 4! . . . 3! . . . 2! . . . 1 . . . .
JACK OFF!”
Stationed at her tiny window, Candy looked on incredulously at what took place when Krankeit’s thunderous command had ceased echoing in the amphitheater. After a minute she turned weakly from the wall and said, “I think I’d better leave now, if you don’t mind. I’m afraid I’m getting a bit of a headache.”
“Don’t forget what I told you,” said Krankeit’s mother, eying her pugnaciously. “Leave Irving alone!”
She wandered again in the maze of white corridors, trying to find her way back to the sickroom. Walking slowly, she considered the outlandish things that had been happening to her—the scene with Dr. Dunlap, the strange meeting with Mrs. Semite, and now, this upsetting incident she’d witnessed in the amphitheater. She’d heard about Krankeit’s unprecedented theories from the nurse, of course, but seeing them put to practice had been something of a shock. She was disturbed, bewildered, and, more than anything else, she was terribly tired. She dabbed her moist forehead with a hanky and wished she could sit down. . . .
A few minutes later a burst of wild laughter, coming from one of the rooms, told her where the others were.
She opened the door and was presented with the spectacle of Uncle Jack and Luther performing a primitive dance together.
“Daddy” had gotten out of bed in his bathrobe and turban of bandages, and he and Luther were grunting and shuffle-stamping about each other in American Indian style. Luther was in his
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