"Mind telling me what I'm slated for? The high jump? Going to watch me writhing in pain as my infection climbs toward my vitals? Going to amputate? Or are you going to cut it off inch by inch and watch me suffer?"
"Steve, some things you know already. One, that you are a carrier. There have been no other carriers. We'd like to know what makes you a carrier."
#The laboratory again?# I thought.
He nodded. "Also whether your final contraction of Mekstrom's Disease removes the carrier-factor."
I said hopefully, "I suppose as a Mekstrom I'll eventually be qualified to join you?"
Thorndyke looked blank. "Perhaps," he said flatly.
To my mind, that flat perhaps was the same sort of reply that Mother used to hand me when I wanted something that she did not want to give. I'd been eleven before I got walloped across the bazoo by pointing out to her that we'll see really meant no, because nothing that she said it to ever came to pass.
"Look, Thorndyke, let's take off our shoes and stop dancing," I told him. "I have a pretty good idea of what's been going on. I'd like an honest answer to what's likely to go on from here."
"I can't give you that."
"Who can?"