Dimension of Miracles by Robert Sheckley

Author:Robert Sheckley
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 1955-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

As from a vast distance, Carmody heard a voice say: ‘What do you think, Doctor? Can you do anything for him?’

He recognized that voice; it was the Prize.

‘I’ll pay for it,’ another voice said. He recognized this as Maudsley. ‘Do you think you can do anything for him?’

‘He can be saved,’ said a third voice, presumably that of the doctor. ‘Medical science admits no limits to the feasible, only to the tolerable, which is the patient’s limitation, not ours.’

Carmody struggled to open his eyes or his mouth, but found that he was completely immobilized.

‘So it’s serious, huh?’ asked the Prize.

‘That is a difficult question to answer with precision,’ the doctor said. ‘To begin with, we must assign categories. Medical science is easier than medical ethics, for example. We of the Galactic Medical Association are supposed to preserve life; we are also supposed to act in the best interests of the particular form we treat. But what should we do when these two imperatives are in contradiction? The Uiichi of Devin V, for example, seek a physician’s aid to cure them of life and help them achieve their desired goal of death. It is a damnably difficult task, let me say, and only possible when an Uiichi has grown old and enfeebled, But what does ethics have to say about this strange reversal of normal desire? Are we to do as the Uiichi desire, and perform acts which are reprehensible in nearly every corner of the galaxy? Or are we to act upon the basis of our own standards, and thus doom the Uiichi to a fate quite literally worse than death?’

‘What has this got to do with Carmody?’ Maudsley asked.

‘Not very much,’ the doctor admitted. ‘But I thought you might find it interesting, and it will help you see why we must charge the high fees we do.’

‘Is he in a serious condition?’ the Prize demanded.

‘Only the dead can be said to be in a really serious condition,’ the doctor stated. ‘And even then, there are exceptions. Pentathanaluna, for example, which laymen refer to as Five-Day Reversible Death, is really no worse than a common cold, despite vulgar rumours to the contrary.’

‘But what about Carmody?’ Maudsley asked.

‘He is definitely not dead,’ the doctor said soothingly. ‘He is merely in a state of – or tantamount to – deep shock. To put it more simply, he has, in a manner of speaking, fainted.’

‘Can you pull him out of it?’ the Prize asked.

‘Your terms are unclear,’ the Doctor said. ‘My work is difficult enough without –’

‘I mean, can you restore him to his original state of function?’ the Prize asked.

‘Well! That is rather a large order, as I think you will admit if you give it a moment’s thought. What was his original state of function? Does either of you know? Would he know himself if, miraculously, he could be consulted in his own cure? Of the million subtle alterations of personality, some of which take place at the mere instigation

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