Chapter 11 Chapter nine

I awoke with a foul mouth and buzzing head, and a vague awareness of impending disaster.It seems to me that it feels good, in comparison.Just then, a pleasant voice said, "Feeling better?" A petite brunette bent over me.I have never seen such a cute little thing.While I'm still weak, I've recovered enough to appreciate it all.She was dressed oddly: tight white shorts, an almost sheer wrap around her breasts, and what looked like metal armor covering the back of her neck, shoulders, and spine. "Better," I admitted, grimacing. "Does it taste bad in your mouth?"

"It's like a cabinet meeting in a Balkan country." "Drink it." She hands me a glass of something; it's very spiced and a little spicy, but it washes away the bad taste in my mouth right away. "No," she went on, "don't swallow it. Spit it out like a child, and I'll get you some water." I did. "I'm Doris Marsden," she said, "your day nurse." "Nice to meet you, Doris," I said, staring at her with interest, "tell me why you're dressed like this? Not that I don't like it, but you look like a bum in a comic strip By."

She looked down at herself and giggled. "I feel like a dancer. But you'll get used to it—I'm used to it." "I'm used to it. I like the look, but why are you dressed like this?" "The old man's order." I asked why again, and then I knew why, and I felt terrible again.I don't speak anymore. "Have some lunch," Doris said. She picked up the plate and sat by my bed. "I don't want to eat anything." "Open your mouth," she said firmly, "or I'll rub it in your hair. Come on! So nice." While swallowing a few mouthfuls of rice, I struggled to say, "I feel pretty good. Give me a little 'spin' and I can stand up."

"You can't take stimulants." She said bluntly, while continuing to feed me, "special diet, rest more, maybe I will give you some sleeping pills later. These are the old man's orders." "What's wrong with me?" "Extreme fatigue, hunger, the first case of scurvy I've ever seen in my life. And scabies, and lice -- but the scabies is cured, and the lice are gone. Now you know, if If you dare to tell the doctor that I told you, I will tell you that you are lying to your face. Turn around. " I rolled over and she started changing my dressing.I felt like I had sores all over my body; the medicine she was using stinged a bit, followed by a cold.I was thinking about what she had told me, trying to remember how I had lived under my master's control.

"Don't tremble," she said. "Does it hurt?" "I'm fine." I told her. I do want to stop shaking and calmly clear my mind.As far as I can remember, during this period, for about three days, I didn't have any water or rice.bath?Let me see - I never even took a shower!I shaved every day, and put on a clean shirt; but it was a necessary part of the disguise, and the master knew it. Besides, as far as I can remember, I never took them off since I stole them and put them on until the old man caught me--they were tight when I started wearing them. "What shape are my feet now?" I asked.

"Mind your own business," said Doris. "Turn around and lie down." I love nurses; they are peaceful, unpretentious, and very tolerant.My night nurse, Miss Briggs, was less coveted than Doris; she had the face of a horse with jaundiced hepatitis--but not a bad figure for her age.Strong body and well maintained.Her musical comedy attire was in the same category as Doris's, but she dressed primly and walked like a grenadier.And Doris twisted her body slightly when she walked, which was really pleasing to the eye.May God bless her. When I woke up in the middle of the night terrified, Miss Briggs refused to give me sleeping pills, but she played poker with me and won half my salary.I wanted to hear about the President from her, because I figured it was long enough for the old man to act, and win or lose, but she kept her mouth shut.She won't even admit to knowing anything about parasites, flying saucers, and whatnot.Even though that's the only reason she's sitting there in a costume!

I asked her if there was any news at the moment, but she insisted that she has been busy watching TV series recently.So I asked her to move the stereo TV to my room so I could watch the news.She said a doctor's opinion had to be sought because I was on the "retreat" list. I asked her when I was going to see this so called doctor.She said she didn't know either, because the doctor was very busy recently. How many patients live in our hospital?She said she really couldn't remember.Just then, her bell rang, and she left, probably to see another patient. I cleaned her up.After she left, I rigged the next deck so that she had a handful of bad cards.After that, I would never play cards with her again.

Then I fell asleep.It was Miss Briggs who woke me, and she smacked my face with a cold, damp washcloth.She set me up for breakfast, and Doris took over from her and brought it to me.This time, I ate it myself, trying to get something out of her while I ate it—and the result was the same as I had with Miss Briggs.Nurses always regard hospitals as kindergartens for mentally handicapped children. After breakfast Davidson came to see me. "I heard you were here," he said.He was wearing nothing but shorts, except for a bandage on his left arm. "You've heard more than I have." I complained. "What's wrong with you?"

"A bee stung me." I don't lift his arm any more; if he won't tell me how he's hurt, that's his business. I continued: "The old man came yesterday and left suddenly after listening to my report. Have you seen him since then?" "I've seen it." "How's the situation?" I asked. "Talk about yourself. How are you? Are you all right? Have the psychoanalysts allowed you to get back into the secrets?" "Do you still doubt me?" "You survived, that's the big question. Poor Jarvis didn't." "Huh?" I haven't thought about Jarvis yet, "how is he doing now?"

"Can't say well. Never recovered, comatose, and died the next day—the day after you left. I mean the day after they caught you. No apparent cause of death—just death I am." Davidson looked me over, "You must be tough." I didn't feel strong.I just felt weak tears welling up again.I blinked and squeezed back the tears. Davidson pretended not to see, and continued talking to me: "You should really see the commotion you caused when you slipped away. The old man chased after you, with nothing on him except a pistol and a fierce face. He Could have caught you. I bet — got caught by the cops and we had to get him out of jail." Davidson grinned.

I smiled a little myself.It was heroic and foolish for the old man to be dressed as he was born, and to go out and save the world single-handedly. "It's a shame I didn't see it. So what happened'" Davidson looked me up and down cautiously, and said, "Wait a minute." He went out for a little while, then came back and said, "The old man says it's all right. What do you want to know?" "Everything. What happened yesterday?" "I was there for that," he replied, "and that's how I became." He shook his injured arm at me. "Lucky for me," he went on, "three agents died. It was quite an uproar." "But how? The President? He—" Doris came in hastily. "Oh, here you are!" she said to Davidson. "Told you to stay in bed. It's time for you to go to Moses Hospital for revision surgery. The ambulance has been waiting for ten minutes." He stood up, grinned at her, and reached out to pinch her face. "If I don't arrive, the banquet will not be held." "Okay, okay, hurry up." "Here we are." He walked out with her. I yelled, "Hi! How's the President?" Davidson stopped, turned his head, and said, "Oh, him? He's all right—not even a scratch." He was gone. A few minutes later, Doris came back in a rage. "Patients!" she said, in a curse-like tone, "know why they are called 'patients'? Because you have to be patient to put up with them. I should have given him an injection at least twenty minutes ago; but I waited until You can't call him until he's in the ambulance." [① In English, the president is: president; the patient is: patient; patience is: patience.These three words are pronounced similarly. 】 "Why do you need an injection?" "He didn't tell you?" "No." "Well... there's no reason not to tell you amputation, transplant, lower left arm." "Oh." Well, I don't think I'll be able to hear from Davidson how it all ended. A new limb is a big deal, and they usually lock up the patient for the full ten days. I was thinking about the old man: is he still alive after yesterday's big event?Of course, I reminded myself that Davidson had consulted him before speaking to me. But that's not to say he wasn't injured.I started to repeat what Doris said. "How is the old man? Is he sick too? Tell me, is it against your sacred prevarication?" "You talk too much," she said. "It's time to increase your nutrition in the morning, and it's time for you to sleep for a while." She took out a glass of milk, like magic. "Say, girl, or I'll splash milk in your face." "Old man? You mean the director of the department?" "Who else?" "He wasn't hospitalized, at least not here." She trembled and made a grimace, "I don't want him to be my patient here." I agree with her statement.