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I’ve no idea what they mean.
    After one of these episodes Professor Chase stands at the bottom of my bed with Mother Superior and Dr Alexander. The only other person in the ward is a nun sorting out linen.
    ‘The seizures are getting more violent and more prolonged, and we are spending more time on the care of this boy each day,’ says Chase. ‘I think we should increase the medication.’
    ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ replies Alexander. ‘The Valerian sedative can very powerful if the dose is too high, and we’re combining it with Tegretol. I suspect both drugs are reacting badly with one another. Perhaps if we took him off the Valerian...’
    ‘No!’ snaps Chase. ‘It keeps him passive. I just think his condition has worsened.’
    ‘There is another possibility, sir,’ says Mother Superior.
    ‘Well?’
    ‘You could always consider surgery.’
    A shot of electricity tingles through my body that has nothing to do with the probe. I open my mouth to speak, but the words won’t come out.
    ‘But epileptic surgery hasn’t been carried out in decades,’ protests Alexander. ‘You know very well it was outlawed in twenty forty-nine after the death rate increased. Anyway, there’s no one alive trained to carry out such a procedure.’
    ‘That’s where you are wrong, Dr Alexander,’ sneers Chase. ‘My methods are a little unorthodox, but I will rid the boy of this scourge once and for all.’
    ‘And if you do, will Travis be allowed to leave the institution? If it’s a success it will render him clean.’
    Chase smiles. ‘How would we explain that to the inspectors? Besides,’ he shrugs his shoulders, ‘the boy will very likely suffer some mental defects as a result. Parts of the brain may need some extensive work. His condition might be cured, but the side effects could be severe. At least we’ll save on the medication.’
    I open my mouth and scream.
    ––––––––
    H udson asks urgently if I’m all right. Just as well Alexander, Chase and the nun can’t hear us; Hudson isn’t even in the room. He doesn’t have to be, because we’re using a couple of thought pods he’s taken from Alexander’s office while he’s been in there cleaning.
    ‘Serves him right for not locking them away,’ laughs Hudson.
    It’s the first time I’ve ever seen one up close, because only the richers can afford thought pods. They’re designed to do what it says on the publicity: you can communicate without being overheard. The authorities use them, so there’s no incentive to get them banned; anyway, most richers are in authority. Pods are small, flat, metallic objects, only as big as a thumbnail. I’ve no idea how Hudson has lifted them without being seen. The guards and the droids can’t detect them when they’re in use, because artificial life forms can’t think. Even so, pods can still be found outside the body with device detectors. It isn’t long before the nuns come to the ward to search us.
    They make us strip off our clothes, but Hudson has hidden the pods well – under his tongue. I admire his guts, because soon we’re subjected to a body search.
    While they’re busy examining Kappelhoff’s backside I feel the light touch of a finger against my hand. I close my fist over the pod stuck to the tip of Hudson’s finger. From what I’ve heard the best way to use a pod is to place it in the palm of your hand, and think about what you want to say, but as long as it touches the skin somewhere on the body it will work. Thoughts from the other person using a pod just drop into your head. Hudson’s thoughts come through loud and clear.
    ‘Put it in your mouth,’ he says. ‘Try not to let them see you, though.’
    I cough, putting my hand over my mouth, and slip the pod on my tongue.
    ‘Now swallow it.’
    ‘Eh?
    ‘Swallow it!’
    I gulp it down.
    Having finished searching Kappelhoff the droids have moved to the next boy. I catch him gazing at me suspiciously as he dresses.