"It'll be six months, anyway, George." Her voice seemed to be saying, "Please be patient," just by the tone of it.

Six months! Cooped up in this—this fishbowl!—for six months more?

"I'm sorry, George. You won't be alone, though—I'll stay with you. That is, if you want me."

He began to laugh. He laughed uproariously. He didn't care that the translator made his laugh into a horrible thing that grated in her ears. Part of the time his laugh was a sob, but it was all the same to the translator.

Do you mind if I call you Mom? There was a catch in his voice. When I was a kid I used to rely on my mother like this! I've never been so dependent upon another woman in all my life! If I want you! I need you, Karen. Don't leave me!

"I won't leave you, George—" He had the feeling there was something else she wanted to say, but she didn't.

He could hear her voice faintly now. She wasn't talking to him, and he had to strain to catch her words.

"He's all right, doctor. For the past few days all he's wanted to talk about is his body. I've been telling him anything he wants to know."

George could barely make out a mumbled answer. It was too far away to hear the words.

"Play the tape, doctor. You'll see what I mean."

He mustn't let her know he had overheard. He had forgotten all about this being put on tape. He'd have to watch his words from now on. She must have thought she had turned the microphone off when the doctor came in. Mentally, George smiled.

Karen.

No answer.

Karen!

Silence.

Karen, can you hear me?

Where in the name of heaven did that woman go? Has she left me? Maybe they gave me up for dead.

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