"I'll ring," said Bolden. In a short time he fell asleep. It was easy to sleep.
The nurse entered as quietly as she could in the decontagion outfit. It awakened Bolden. It was evening. He had slept most of the day. "Which one are you?" he asked. "The pretty one?"
"All nurses are pretty if you get well. Here. Swallow this."
It was Peggy. He looked doubtfully at what she held out. "All of it?"
"Certainly. You get it down and I'll see that it comes back up. The string won't hurt you."
She passed a small instrument over his body, reading the dial she held in the other hand. The information, he knew, was being recorded elsewhere on a master chart. Apparently the instrument measured neural currents and hence indirectly the progress of the disease. Already they had evolved new diagnostic techniques. He wished they'd made the same advance in treatment.
After expertly reeling out the instrument he had swallowed, the nurse read it and deposited it in a receptacle in the wall. She brought a tray and told him to eat. He wanted to question her, but she was insistent about it so he ate. Allowance had been made for his partial paralysis. The food was liquid. It was probably nutritious, but he didn't care for the taste.
She took the tray away and came back and sat beside him. "Now we can talk," she said.
"What's going on?" he said bluntly. "When do I start getting shots? Nothing's been done for me so far."