Terminal Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

electronic components to be synergistic with the human brain. McPherson, as head of the NPS, had interviewed dozensof candidates who thought the job was “a challenge” or “an interesting systems application context.” Gerhard said he thought it would be fun, and was hired immediately.
    Richards’s background was similar. He had finished high school and gone to college for six months before being drafted by the Army. He was about to be sent to Vietnam when he began to suggest improvements in the Army’s electronic scanning devices. The improvements worked, and Richards never got closer to combat than a laboratory in Santa Monica. When he was discharged, he also joined the NPS.
    The wizard twins: Ross smiled.
    “Hi, Jan,” Gerhard said.
    “How’s it going, Jan?” Richards said.
    They were both offhand. They were the only people on the Staff who dared refer to McPherson as “Rog.” And McPherson put up with it.
    “Okay,” she said. “We’ve got our stage three through grand rounds. I’m going to see him now.”
    “We’re just finishing a check on the computer,” Gerhard said. “It looks fine.” He pointed to a table with a microscope surrounded by a tangle of electronic meters and dials.
    “Where is it?”
    “Under the stage.”
    She looked closer. A clear plastic packet the size of a postage stamp lay under the microscope lens. Through the plastic she could see a dense jumble of microminiaturized electronic components. Forty contact points protruded from the plastic. With the help of the microscope, the twins were testing the points sequentially, using fine probes.
    “The logic circuits are the last to be checked,” Richards said. “And we have a backup unit, just in case.”
    Janet went over to the file-card storage shelves and began looking through the test cards. After a moment, she said, “Haven’t you got any more psychodex cards?”
    “They’re over here,” Gerhard said. “You want five-space or
n
-space?”
    “
N
-space,” she said.
    Gerhard opened a drawer and took out a cardboard sheet. He also took out a flat plastic clipboard. Attached to the clipboard by a metal chain was a pointed metal probe, something like a pencil.
    “This isn’t for the stage three, is it?”
    “Yes,” she said.
    “But you’ve run so many psychodexes on him before—”
    “Just one more, for the records.”
    Gerhard handed her the card and clipboard. “Does your stage three know what’s going on?”
    “He knows most of it,” she said.
    Gerhard shook his head. “He must be out of his mind.”
    “He is,” she said. “That’s the problem.”
    At the seventh floor, she stopped at the nurses’ station to ask for Benson’s chart. A new nurse was there, who said, “I’m sorry but relatives aren’t allowed to look at medical records.”
    “I’m Dr. Ross.”
    The nurse was flustered. “I’m sorry, Doctor, I didn’t see a name tag. Your patient is in seven-oh-four.”
    “What patient?”
    “Little Jerry Peters.”
    Dr. Ross looked blank.
    “Aren’t you the pediatrician?” the nurse asked, finally.
    “No,” she said. “I’m a psychiatrist at the NPS.” She heard the stridency in her own voice, and it upset her. But all those years growing up with people who said, “You don’t
really
want to be a doctor, you want to be a nurse,” or, “Well, for a woman, pediatrics is best, I mean, the most natural thing.…”
    “Oh,” the nurse said. “Then you want Mr. Benson in seven-ten. He’s been prepped.”
    “Thank you,” she said. She took the chart and walked down the hall to Benson’s room. She knocked on Benson’s door and heard gunshots. She opened the door and saw that the lights were dimmed except for a small bedside lamp, but the room was bathed in an electric-blue glow from a TV. On the screen, a man was saying, “… dead before he hit the ground. Two bullets right through the heart.”
    “Hello?” she said, and swung the door wider.
    Benson looked over. He smiled