"But Dr. Farrar, Daneshaw can't bring them back. He's just another subject. You could swear the nurses to secrecy for the good of the hospital. It's not as if it were anything strange or exciting. If we get an investigation, the subjects will run amok. Blood pressures will go up and some of them won't eat and others won't sleep thinking up fancy stories to tell the investigating commission and the smooth curve charts will be all shot to...."
Farrar laughed, "Intriguing thought, a thousand near-200-year-oldsters running amok. But seriously, if they kill themselves off this way, it will mess things up. Don't worry about your job yet, Doctor. Daneshaw will think of something. On your way out, ask Miss Herrington to get in touch with him. Now you get back to Block Nineteen and see that everything stays quiet for a while. I'd rather not have an investigation either."
"But, Doctor...."
"It's an order. Well, on second thought, get everybody over 150 out of the hospital on an expedition of some kind." He scribbled on a pad.
"But, Dr. Farrar...."
"Here's an order for cars ... and ... (writing) ... buses and field kitchens. Take them out in the country for a picnic. Come back here as soon as you can get away." He held out a paper.
"A picnic! For a thousand?"
"You can do it. You're the best organizer in the hospital."
"Well ... I suppose so."
"Excellent," concluded Dr. Farrar and rose, indicating dismissal. "Daneshaw will think of something," he repeated to himself as Warner walked out and slammed the door.