"It's all right, Tom." Ruth's voice. "Dr. Arnoldsson put you under and had you check the ship's wiring. Now he and Jason and the engineers are figuring out what to do. They said it's nothing to worry about ... they'll have everything figured out in a couple of hours."
"And I'm to work on the satellite until they're ready?"
"Yes."
"Don't call us, we'll call you."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"It's all right, Tom. Don't worry."
"Sure Ruth, I'm not worried." That makes us both liars.
He worked mechanically, handling the unfamiliar machinery with the engineers' knowledge through Arnoldsson's hypnotic communication.
Just like the pictures they used to show of nuclear engineers handling radioactive materials with remotely-controlled mechanical hands from behind a concrete wall. I'm only a pair of hands, a couple of opposed thumbs, a fortunate mutation of a self-conscious simian ... but, God, why don't they call? She said it wasn't anything big. Just the wiring, probably. Then why don't they call?