work so much that she’ll leave with anyone, but take care. Entering another world with someone is a form of wedding, and this woman will hate any world she lands in.”
Lanark groaned and said, “What can I do, Dr. Munro?”
Munro said cheerfully, “That is your first sensible question Lanark, so stop worrying and listen. You can look for a companion among three classes of people: the doctors, the nurses and the patients. Not many doctors want to leave, but when they do, it is with a colleague. Nurses leave more often, with men they thoroughly trust, and doctors have proverbial advantages where they are concerned. But the biggest class are the patients, and you can only know them by working on them.”
“I’m not qualified to work on anybody.”
“And were you not nearly a dragon? And are you not cured? The only qualification for treating a disease is to survive it, and right now seventeen patients are crushing themselves under belligerent armour without one reasonable soul to care for them. Don’t be afraid! You need see nobody whose problem is not a form of your own.”
They sat in silence until Lanark stood up and put the white coat on. Munro smiled and produced a hospital radio saying, “This is yours. You know how to make contact through it, so I’ll show how it contacts you.”
He flicked the switch and said to the mesh, “Send a signal to Dr. Lanark in ten seconds, please. There’s no message, so don’t repeat it.”
He dropped the radio into Lanark’s pocket. A moment later two resonant chords from there said plin-plong .
“When you hear that, your patient is near a crisis or a colleague needs help. If you need help yourself, or lose your way in the corridors, or want a lullaby to soothe you to sleep, speak to the operator and you’ll be connected to someone suitable. Now get your books and we’ll go to your new apartment.” Lanark hesitated. He said, “Has it a window?”
“As far as I know this is the only room with a viewing screen of that kind.”
“I prefer to sleep here, Dr. Munro.”
Munro sighed slightly. “Doctors don’t usually sleep in a patients’ ward, but certainly this is the smallest and least required. All right, leave the books. I’ll show you something of the institute’s scope then we’ll visit Ozenfant, your head of department.”
They went through an arch to one of the circular doorways. The curtain of red pleated plastic slid apart for them and closed behind.
The corridors of the institute were very different from the rooms they connected. Lanark followed Munro down a low curving tunnel with hot gusts of wind shoving at his back, his ears numbed by a clamour of voices, footsteps, bells going plin-plong and a dull rhythmic roaring. The tunnel was six feet high and circular in section with a flat track at the bottom just wide enough for the wheels of a stretcher. The light kept brightening and dulling in a way that hurt the eyes; dazzling golden brightness slid along the walls with each warm blast and was followed by fading orange dimness in the ensuing cold. The tunnel slanted into another tunnel and grew twice as large, then into another and grew twice as large again. The noise, brightness and windpower increased. Lanark and Munro travelled swiftly but doctors and nurses with trolleys and stretchers kept overtaking and whizzing past them on either side. Nobody was moving against the wind. With an effort Lanark came beside Munro and asked about this, but though he yelled aloud his voice reached his ears as a remote squeaking and the reply was inaudible; yet amid the roaring and gongings he could hear distinct fragments of speech spoken by nobody in the vicinity:
“… is the pie that bakes and eats itself …”
“….. is that which has no dimensions…..”
“… is the study of the best …”
“….. an exacting game and requires patience…..”
They entered a great hall where the voices were drowned in a roaring which swelled and ebbed like
Lanark groaned and said, “What can I do, Dr. Munro?”
Munro said cheerfully, “That is your first sensible question Lanark, so stop worrying and listen. You can look for a companion among three classes of people: the doctors, the nurses and the patients. Not many doctors want to leave, but when they do, it is with a colleague. Nurses leave more often, with men they thoroughly trust, and doctors have proverbial advantages where they are concerned. But the biggest class are the patients, and you can only know them by working on them.”
“I’m not qualified to work on anybody.”
“And were you not nearly a dragon? And are you not cured? The only qualification for treating a disease is to survive it, and right now seventeen patients are crushing themselves under belligerent armour without one reasonable soul to care for them. Don’t be afraid! You need see nobody whose problem is not a form of your own.”
They sat in silence until Lanark stood up and put the white coat on. Munro smiled and produced a hospital radio saying, “This is yours. You know how to make contact through it, so I’ll show how it contacts you.”
He flicked the switch and said to the mesh, “Send a signal to Dr. Lanark in ten seconds, please. There’s no message, so don’t repeat it.”
He dropped the radio into Lanark’s pocket. A moment later two resonant chords from there said plin-plong .
“When you hear that, your patient is near a crisis or a colleague needs help. If you need help yourself, or lose your way in the corridors, or want a lullaby to soothe you to sleep, speak to the operator and you’ll be connected to someone suitable. Now get your books and we’ll go to your new apartment.” Lanark hesitated. He said, “Has it a window?”
“As far as I know this is the only room with a viewing screen of that kind.”
“I prefer to sleep here, Dr. Munro.”
Munro sighed slightly. “Doctors don’t usually sleep in a patients’ ward, but certainly this is the smallest and least required. All right, leave the books. I’ll show you something of the institute’s scope then we’ll visit Ozenfant, your head of department.”
They went through an arch to one of the circular doorways. The curtain of red pleated plastic slid apart for them and closed behind.
The corridors of the institute were very different from the rooms they connected. Lanark followed Munro down a low curving tunnel with hot gusts of wind shoving at his back, his ears numbed by a clamour of voices, footsteps, bells going plin-plong and a dull rhythmic roaring. The tunnel was six feet high and circular in section with a flat track at the bottom just wide enough for the wheels of a stretcher. The light kept brightening and dulling in a way that hurt the eyes; dazzling golden brightness slid along the walls with each warm blast and was followed by fading orange dimness in the ensuing cold. The tunnel slanted into another tunnel and grew twice as large, then into another and grew twice as large again. The noise, brightness and windpower increased. Lanark and Munro travelled swiftly but doctors and nurses with trolleys and stretchers kept overtaking and whizzing past them on either side. Nobody was moving against the wind. With an effort Lanark came beside Munro and asked about this, but though he yelled aloud his voice reached his ears as a remote squeaking and the reply was inaudible; yet amid the roaring and gongings he could hear distinct fragments of speech spoken by nobody in the vicinity:
“… is the pie that bakes and eats itself …”
“….. is that which has no dimensions…..”
“… is the study of the best …”
“….. an exacting game and requires patience…..”
They entered a great hall where the voices were drowned in a roaring which swelled and ebbed like
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