Quickly he looked through the photographs again, then stacked them with the rest of the papers. He needed time to read each paper thoroughly. He turned off the shower then stuffed some clean laundry into the chute. He picked up the stack of papers and looked around for a convenient place to hide them. He slid open the dresser drawer and tucked them neatly between the dark blue shirts and the light blue ones, making sure they couldn't be seen without searching. After closing the drawer, he quickly combed his hair and splashed on aftershave lotion. He opened the dressing room door.
"Computer, what did the housekeeper plan for dinner?"
"Not certain as to the time of your arrival, she listed several options. There is a cold tray in the refrigerator which consists of..."
"Stop," James commanded, "I'll find out for myself."
On his way to the kitchen, he stopped briefly at the bay window. The man looked the same. In the last few hours there hadn't been any noticeable change. Without further observation he went into the kitchen, took a small tray and filled it with goodies from the refrigerator.
There was nothing sloppy about his housekeeper. She always prepared beautiful appetizing meals and when she served him, she did so with ultimate style and quality. In his estimation, she was worth more credits than she required.
Sometimes when she wasn't around to serve him, he took the pleasure of throwing a sandwich together and drinking from the container. Once when he ate salad with his dinner fork, she tried to pretend she didn't notice. On several occasions, he tried to tell her he didn't require his food served on china or his drink in the proper glass, nor did he require three balanced meals a day. She continued to serve him properly.
He took the tray and a bottle of wine into the living room and set it on the computer console. He poured a glass of wine, opened the container of medication and poured the tablets into his hand. Sitting down on the sofa, he stared down at the medication. Suddenly, he had the urge to throw them across the room. Instead, he drank the glass of wine. His hand shook uncontrollably as he refilled the glass. He closed his hand tightly around the tablets to help control the shaking. A sudden wave of weakness forced him to lean back on the sofa as he continued to shake.
"Computer, call my son, James. Tell him to get over here quick. I'm sick."
"Working," the computer responded. "Call completed."
He picked up the glass of wine, spilled some on his tunic and drank the rest. As he started to set the glass back on the console, it slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. He stared down at the glass. The muscle in his jaw flexed as he tried desperately to remain in control of his quivering body. br> The computer sounded the door chimes.
"Open the door," he commanded.
In seconds he heard his son's voice.
"What's wrong, Dad?"
James heard and felt genuine concern in the voice he hadn't heard in such a long time. He looked up and saw his son for the first time in several months. He was wearing light blue coveralls with a medical insignia on the left sleeve and three gold stripes on the collar. He had dark brown hair and large, dark brown eyes like Rachael had. He set his medical kit on the console.
"I'm weak and shaking."
"You had better lay down."
His son's cool competent hands helped him to lay down. He felt the tenderness of his touch as the younger man took hold of his wrist to feel his pulse.
"Do you have any pain?"
"No pain. Just very weak and shaky."
"That's a good sign," he said as he picked up the wine bottle from the console and estimated how much was missing.
"Is this all you've had to drink?"
"Yes."
"You haven't had anything else to drink all day?"
"Just water and lots of coffee."
"What drugs have you had today?"
"None."
"You haven't had any drugs, not even the recommended stimulants?"
"I haven't taken those since I started working in the country after I lost your mother."
"Can you tell me what you've done today?"
"I got up and had breakfast, packed my things, checked out at the terminal, drove home, unpacked, had lunch with my ex-partner, came home and went for a swim, studied for my exam, checked my account, listened to some music, watched the news, worked out and went for another swim, went to the 'Hall of Records', started to eat dinner and here we are. Anything else you want to know?"
"No, that's enough. It sounds like you keep pretty busy." He hesitated for a moment then added, "And your memory isn't bad either."
"Would you like me to tell you the prices on the menu at the hospital on the day you were born?"
James V smiled.
"Not really, but I'm sure you could quote them without making one mistake."
He took the med-spray from the medical kit, inserted a vial and sprayed the medication into his father's arm.
Try to relax now. I think you've got a new strain of virus, but you don't have anything to worry about because we've already found the cure."
James already felt a lot better and he relaxed considerably.
"How long have you been sick?" James V asked as he sat down on the edge of the sofa beside his father.
"Less than half an hour."
"Have you ever felt like this before?"
"No. I haven't been sick in ages."
He noticed his father had relaxed but continued to clench one fist. He reached over, took his father's hand and opened it. The hand opened willingly. A look of shock washed over his face.
"What are you trying to do, commit suicide?" he demamded furiously. "How many have you taken?"
"I haven't taken anything. I don't know what you're getting so upset about, those are the dietary supplements and the three drugs you prescribed for me. I got sick before I could take them."
James V looked at his father in disbelief. For all of a minute, he glared at him. Neither of them spoke. Suddenly, James V stood up; it was more than he could take. He began to pace the floor, ranting and raving.
"Do you really expect me to believe that? What kind of a fool do you think I am? Do you know what the wrong combination of drugs can do to you? Of course you know. You're almost as smart as I am. You know you're supposed to check with the computer before you take anything. I'll bet you didn't even bother to check. There's no excuse, Dad. Why in the world would you want to do something like that anyway? Are you afraid of getting old?"
There was a pause that lasted about two heartbeats. Before James could say anything, his son continued.
"That's it, isn't it? You're afraid you'll get too old to do the only job you can do. You're afraid of getting old. That has to be the reason. Don't you know you can be re-trained for some other type of work? Maybe you don't realize that you're important to a lot of people. How could you even think of committing suiside?"
"If you'll be quiet for a minute, I'll explain."
James V quieted but continued to avoid looking at his father. He was still furious.
"The container is still on the tray. If you won't take my word for it, you can read the label if it will make you feel any better."
James V sat back down on the edge of the sofa. Slowly, he picked up the container and held it in his hand. He had every intention of checking out the medication.
"I take the same medication every night. You prescribed it for me yourself."
His son remained silent and unmoving. He wanted to believe his father, but he couldn't ignore the facts or the possibilities. He looked down at the hand that still held a dozen tablets.
"If you don't believe me, why don't you take them and have them analyzed?"
James V looked into his father's eyes.
"Give them to me," he demanded coldly.
"Sure," James said as he poured them into his son's hand."There's more in the kitchen if you want those, too."
James V counted the tablets back into the container and read the label. Somewhat relieved, he set the container on the tray. Subconsciously he began to play with the collar of his coveralls. This action always preceded apologies as well as lies.
"Look, Dad. I didn't mean to get so upset. I just thought you..."
"Forget it," James interrupted. He accepted it as an apology, though it could have been either or both.
There was a pause in the conversation about the length of two heartbeats before his son changed the subject.
"I have to warn you, the cure for this virus is dangerous. It's a new drug and that's one thing that makes it so bad. One drop too much will cause irreversible damage. Two drops too much will kill you. However, if you choose not to take the drug, the symptoms will return and each time they return, the illness will last longer, causing more damage to your body's systems. It will get progressively worse and eventually, you won't recover. The virus itself won't kill you, but the complications caused by it will."
"What are you trying to say?"
"The cure is dangerous, but the virus is terminal. You're in the earliest stages so there is almost no damage and there will be considerably less risk."
"How long without the treatment?"
"It depends largely on your physical condition, but I would venture to say about six months to a year, maybe even longer."
"It's that bad?"
"You're one of the lucky ones. People with physical problems, young children and the elderly, usually don't last very long. You're in excellent physical condition and you're not under any undue stress, so you should be good for at least six months maybe as long as two years. The treatment, if given properly, kills the virus and gives you an immunity that lasts a lifetime. Right now, I want you to think about it. I'm going to take this food back to the kitchen and I'll consult your medical records on the kitchen console."
James V picked up the glass from the floor and set it on the tray.
"Do you have any questions?"
James shook his head. He watched as his son picked up the tray and went up the four steps toward the kitchen. He knew in his heart, his son was going to the kitchen to compare the medication with the medication in the other containers...the sealed containers.
NEXT
