Fantastic Voyage - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,12

coordination breaks down and you begin to have hallucinations and, eventually, death."

"The morphogen makes you dream? Is that it?"

"Exactly. It knocks you out for half an hour of solid dreaming and then you're set for the day. Take my advice, though, and stay away from the stuff unless it's an emergency."

"Why? Does it leave you tired?"

"No. Not particularly tired. It's just that the dreams are bad. The morphogen vacuums the mind; cleans out the mental garbage-pit accumulated during the day; and it's quite an experience. Don't do it. -But, I had no choice. That map had to be prepared and I spent all night at it."

"That map?"

"It's Benes' system to the last capillary and I've had to learn all I could concerning it. Up here, almost centrally located in the cranium, right near the pituitary, is the blood clot."

"Is that the problem?"

"It certainly is. Everything else can be handled. The general bruises and contusions, the shock, the concussion. The clot can't be, not without surgery. And quickly."

"How long has he got, Dr. Michaels?"

"Can't say. It won't be fatal, we hope, for quite a while, but brain damage will come long before death does. And for this organization, brain damage will be as bad as death. The people here expect miracles from our Benes and now they've been badly rattled. Carter, in particular, has had a bad blow and wants you."

Grant said, "You mean he expects the Other Side will try again."

"He doesn't say so, but I suspect that's what he fears and why he wants you on the team."

Grant looked about. "Is there any reason to think this place has been penetrated. Have they planted agents here?"

"Not to my knowledge, but Carter is a suspicious man. I think he suspects the possibility of medical assassination."

"Duval?"

Michaels shrugged. "He's an unpopular character and the Instrument he uses can cause death if it slips a hairbreadth."

"How can he be stopped?"

"He can't."

"Then use someone else; someone you can trust."

"No one else has the necessary skill. And Duval is right here with us. And, after all, there is no proof that he isn't completely loyal."

"But if I'm placed near Duval as a male nurse and if I tint assigned the task of watching him closely, I will do no good. I won't know what he's doing; or whether he's doing it honestly and correctly. In fact, I tell you that when he opens the skull, I'll probably pass out."

"He won't open the skull," said Michaels. "The clot can't be reached from outside. He's definite about that."

"But, then ..."

"We'll reach it from the inside."

Grant frowned. Slowly, he shook his head. "You know. I don't know what you're talking about."

Michaels said, quietly, "Mr. Grant, everyone else engaged in this project knows the score, and understands exactly what he or she is to do. You're the outsider and it is rather a chore to have to educate you. Still, if I must, I must. I'm going to have to acquaint you with some of the theoretical work done in this institution."

Grant's lip quirked. "Sorry, doctor, but you've just said a naughty word. At college, I majored in football with a strong minor in girls. Don't waste theory on me."

"I have seen your record, Mr. Grant, and it is not quite as you say. However, I will not deprive you of your manhood by accusing you of your obvious intelligence and education, even if we are in private. I will not waste theory on you, but will get the nub of the information to you without that. -I assume you have observed our insigne, CMDF.

"Sure have."

"Do you have any idea of what it means?"

"I've made a few guesses. How about Consolidated Martian Dimwits and Fools. I've got a better one than that but it's unprintable."

"It happens to stand for Combined Miniature Deterrent Forces."

"That makes less sense than my suggestion," said Grant. "I'll explain. Have you ever heard of the miniaturization controversy?"

Grant thought a while. "I was in college then. We spent a couple of sessions on it in the physics course." "In between football games?"

"Yes. In the off-season, as a matter of fact. If I remember it, a group of physicists claimed they could reduce the size of objects to any degree, and it was exposed as a fraud. Well, maybe not a fraud but a mistake anyway. I remember the class ran through several arguments showing why it was impossible to reduce a man to the size of, say, a mouse, and keep him a man."

"I'm sure this